Chapter 3

Walking out of Aura Travel was a damn circus. Greg was bowing so low I thought he was going to split his damn pants, and Lana was no beter, she was staring at me like I was being taken away by a federal SWAT team. I didn't say a word. 

I just grabbed my laptop bag, shoved my hands into the pockets of my baggy jeans, and followed Cyrus out the doors before he decided to do some alpha-male bullshit like slinging me over his shoulders in broad daylight.

A pitch-black SUV was idling at the curb. One of his massive security guys opened the door, and Cyrus gestured for me to get in first.

I slid onto the leather seat, sticking as close to the door as humanly possible. Cyrus climbed in right after me, his long legs taking up half the space, and the door shut with a heavy, airtight thud. He turned his head, pinning me with that dark, intense stare I’d spent hours typing out in my draft at two in the morning.

"So," he started, his voice deep and smooth, carrying that annoying, over-the-top gravity. "Care to explain why my dedicated travel agent was jumping out of windows this morning?"

"I told standard safety protocols," I said, leaning my head back against the leather seat. "Gotta make sure the fire escape isn't rusted out. You're welcome, by the way."

He tilted his head, his jaw ticking with rage as he pulled out his phone. "I know your home address, Erin. I track every single movement connected to my high-priority accounts."

I turned my head to look at him. "While you're looking at the GPS, can you check if the wait time at the local coffee shop is long? I need an iced coffee if I'm surviving this."

He blinked, his brow furrowing for a split second before his expression hardened again but he didn't answer. He just set the phone down and kept staring at me like he was waiting for me to break.

Five minutes later, we were riding the private elevator up to the top floor of Crest Enterprises. The building was ridiculous, all dark glass, dark marble, and cold, multi-million-dollar corporate bullshit that I wrote.

The moment the elevator doors slid shut behind us in his massive corner office, he turned and shut down the distance between us. Before I could even step toward his desk, he grabbed my arm, shoved me back against the heavy door, and pinned both of my wrists over my head against the panel.

Classic chapter-three trope right. He was staring down at over, his massive frame trapping me, those blue eyes burning down into mine.

"You think you can keep running from me?" he growled, his voice dropping into that dark, possessive tone. "You're mine, Erin."

"Congrats," I gasped out, staring up at him without an ounce of fear. "You just activated my fight-or-flight, you just won a week of me running away from you,  so thanks for that."

He froze. The intense, broody dark-romance atmosphere disappeared as he looked at me like I had two heads. He let go of my wrists slowly, stepping back an inch and smoothing down his suit jacket like he was trying to reset his entire ego.

"You're unbelievable," he said, walking over to his desk. He grabbed a thick, black folder and slammed it onto the desk. "Forget the travel itinerary for a second. My personal assistant resigned this morning. You're handling my schedule for the rest of the quarter."

I stared at him, my jaw practically hitting the floor. "Excuse me? I'm a travel agent, not your personal butler."

"You'll do as you're told," he said, leaning his palms on the desk.

"Yeah, fuck no," I said.

I didn't even give him time to process it. I snatched my handbag off his side table, grabbed my phone, and bolted right out his office door before he could try to corner me again. I burst through the revolving glass doors of the skyscraper onto the street, and the sky immediately opened up.

It wasn't just a light sprinkle, it was a heavy, cinematic downpour. Thunder rumbled across the city, and within five seconds, my hair was plastered to my face, and my jeans were soaked through.

"Fuck!" I yelled into the rain, wiping water out of my eyes.

A heavy black SUV pulled up directly to the curb next to me, tires splashing water over my sneakers. The tinted window rolled down, revealing Cyrus sitting inside, dry and unbothered.

"Get in the car, Erin," he commanded over the sound of the rain. "Stop being stubborn."

A golden option box practically flashed in my brain, screaming at me to open the passenger door and get inside so we could have the classic he-dries-her-hair-with-a-towel scene.

"No!" I shouted back, stepping backward onto the open sidewalk. "I'm walking!"

The air around me suddenly turned ice-cold. The static charge in the atmosphere spiked so hard the hair on my arm stood up.

Narrative Error: Plot Refusal Detected.

Delivery Punishment in four seconds.

A blinding flash of blue-white light slammed down straight out of the sky and hit me dead in the chest. A loud CRACK echoed through the street, and the last thing I felt was my body hitting the wet pavement before everything went pitch black.

The smell of sterile bleach and rubbing alcohol hit my nose first.

I opened my eyes, wincing at the harsh lighting above me. I was lying in a narrow bed, wearing a scratchy hospital gown, with a heart monitor softly beeping beside me. My chest felt like I'd been kicked by a mule, and my hair smelled like singed toast.

I turned my head slowly. Cyrus was sitting in the chair right next to the bed. His suit jacket was off, his white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his hair was a mess. He looked genuinely shaken, his eyes wide as he stared at me like I was a ghost.

"You're awake," he said, his voice quiet, raw, and laced with genuine panic. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Erin... you almost died on me."

I blinked up at the ceiling, taking a slow, painful breath. “No shit” 

“This isn’t funny  you almost died“ He said

"Sucks for me, and you cause if i had died then I would've had a very expensive damn funeral compliments of Crest Enterprise" I mumbled.