CHAPTER 16: Game

Emrys

I let out a deep laugh.

Her mouth was completely agape. Her dark eyes were wide, blinking at me as if I had just spoken to her in a dead language. It was an unfiltered look of pure shock.

The women I usually dealt with, the wealthy heiresses and corporate board members, never showed their cards.

They calculated every single word. They practiced their smiles in the mirror. They always knew exactly what they wanted out of a conversation before it even started.

Sybil just stared at me, completely paralyzed. It was incredibly refreshing.

"Close your mouth, Sybil," I said with a smile. "You will catch a fly."

She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed hard. Her fingers gripped the edge of her desk.

"Excuse me?" she said. "I heard what you said, but you are obviously joking."

"I never joke about taking a beautiful woman out," I replied. I took a slow sip of my coffee, enjoying the bright flush rising on her cheeks. "But you do not need to panic. I am not asking you on a formal date. I am asking you to go shopping."

She stared at me like I had lost my mind. She pointed to the massive dual monitors on her desk.

"I have a job, Emrys," she said. "I have four hundred emails sitting in Elias's inbox. I cannot just leave my desk while I am on the clock."

"You need a break," I told her. "This floor is entirely too dreary. You look like you are about to collapse from the stress."

"Elias will not like it," she argued, keeping her voice low so the junior staff near the elevators would not hear us. "He expects me to be here. If I leave, I will get fired."

"I am an Executive Vice President," I reminded her gently. "My last name is also on the front of this building. That makes me your boss too. I will not let Elias fire you."

She shook her head, clearly torn between following the strict corporate rules and escaping the heavy atmosphere my older brother had just created. I leaned forward and rested my hands on the edge of the wood, invading her space just enough to keep her focus entirely on me.

"Come on, Sybil," I coaxed. "One hour. I need an honest opinion on a suit for a charity gala. I do not trust my stylist. And you clearly need to get away from this desk before you lose your mind."

She hesitated. I could see the exhaustion hiding just behind her eyes. Casimir was a bulldozer, and he had clearly rattled her with his little intimidation stunt. She looked at the heavy stack of folders Casimir had slammed onto her desk, then looked at the doors to Elias's office.

"He will notice I am gone," she said quietly.

"Elias is locked in a secure conference call with the European logistics division for the next two hours," I assured her. "I saw his schedule. He will not even know you left."

"Casimir will know," she pointed out.

"Casimir needs to mind his own business. I will deal with him if he asks."

She let out a short breath and finally nodded her head.

"One hour," she said. "Sixty minutes."

"Sixty minutes," I agreed.

"If I get in trouble, I am holding you personally responsible," she warned. She grabbed her purse from the bottom drawer of her desk and slung the strap over her shoulder.

"I will gladly take the blame," I smiled.

We walked to the private elevators together. I scanned my security badge to take us all the way down to the private executive garage.

The ride down was quiet. She stood in the corner of the small space, keeping a polite distance between us. She was still entirely on guard.

"You do not need to stand so far away," I said. "I do not bite."

"I am fine right here," she answered.

"You are very rigid, Sybil."

"I am professional."

"You are off the clock," I reminded her.

The elevator doors opened. My driver, Thomas, was already waiting beside my black car. He opened the back door and I gestured for Sybil to get in.

She stepped into the car and slid across the leather seat. I got in right behind her. Thomas closed the door, walked around to the driver's side, and started the engine.

"Where to, sir?" Thomas asked over the intercom.

"Take us to Maison Laurent on Fifth Avenue," I instructed.

The car pulled out of the underground garage and merged into the heavy city traffic. Sybil looked out the tinted window. She kept her hands folded neatly in her lap, trying very hard to act like riding in a luxury vehicle with a billionaire was a normal Tuesday afternoon.

"You have a very nice car," she said softly.

"It gets me where I need to go," I replied.

"It has massaging seats," she noted, looking at the control panel on the door.

"Do you want me to turn them on for you?" I asked.

"No, thank you. I am already relaxed."

I smiled at her stubbornness. She was determined to keep her walls up.

"Tell me, Sybil. What colors do you prefer?" I asked.

She looked away from the window and met my gaze. "We are shopping for you. My color preferences do not matter."

"I want your opinion. That means your preferences matter a great deal to me."

She thought about it for a moment.

"I like dark colors," she finally said. "Navy. Charcoal. Black."

"Those are very safe choices," I noted. "Very corporate."

"They are practical."

"I do not like practical," I told her. I looked at the simple cut of her blue blouse and the standard gray skirt she was wearing. "I like things that stand out. I like things that catch the eye."

She looked back at me. She did not blush this time, but I saw the subtle shift in her breathing. She knew exactly what I was doing. The banter was light, but the underlying tension between us was very real.

The car slowed down a few minutes later. We pulled up to the curb in front of Maison Laurent. The storefront was entirely made of glass, displaying bespoke suits and high end dresses.

Thomas opened my door. I stepped out onto the sidewalk and held my hand out for Sybil.

As expected, she ignored my hand and stepped out on her own. I let my hand drop, completely unbothered by her rejection. It just made the chase far more interesting.

We walked through the heavy glass doors. The interior of the store was immaculate. Soft music played from hidden speakers in the ceiling. A few wealthy clients were browsing the clothing racks with their personal shoppers.

The store manager, a tall man in a flawless gray suit, saw me immediately. He abandoned the client he was speaking to and rushed across the floor to greet us.

"Mr. Stavros," the manager said. He offered a slight, respectful bow of his head. "Welcome back. It is a pleasure to see you. We were not expecting you today."

"Hello, Mark," I said.

"How can we assist you this afternoon?" He asked warmly. "Do you need a fitting for the upcoming charity gala?"

"No," I said.

I looked around the store. I saw three other clients on the main floor. I did not want an audience. I did not want anyone interrupting us while I spent my time with her.

"I need you to clear the floor," I said.

Mark blinked in confusion. "Sir?"

"Clear the entire floor," I repeated. My voice was casual, but it was an absolute command. "Close the front doors. I want the store to myself for the next hour."

He did not hesitate or argue about lost sales or upset his current clients. He simply nodded his head in agreement.

"Right away, Mr. Stavros," he said. He turned to his staff and began quietly ushering the other clients toward the exit.

I turned my head and looked back at Sybil.

She was staring at me. Her dark eyes were wide again. She looked at the empty clothing racks, the locked front doors, and the sheer display of wealth and power I had just casually executed. She realized in that exact moment that we were absolutely not here to look at a suit for me.

I offered her a slow smile. I let the predatory gleam show fully in my warm eyes, making sure she knew that this shopping trip was just the beginning of my game.