CHAPTER 23: Restless

Elias

I stood a few feet away from her as the heavy silence stretched between us.

She stared up at me, her chest rising and falling l quickly. For a fleeting second, I saw the familiar obedience in her dark eyes.

She looked exactly like a woman who was going to fold under the pressure, apologize for her outburst, and walk back to her desk to finish the budget reports.

Instead, her jaw set. She took a slow, steadying breath. She deliberately broke the intense hold I had on her.

She offered a short, polite bow of her head.

"Goodnight, sir," she said quietly.

She turned around and walked out of my office, the doors clicking shut behind her.

I stood in the middle of the room. My hands clenched at my sides as the violent urge to pull the doors open and drag her back inside warred fiercely with my sense of duty.

She was right. I was entirely wrong for making her work fourteen hours a day. I knew the contract required her to be healthy and rested. I was risking the exact thing I hired her to do.

But I did not actually care about the budget reports. I could read them myself in twenty minutes. I just wanted her sitting at the desk outside my door. I wanted her in my line of sight, and I did not know why.

I hated the boundary she just drew, but I had no logical reason to fight it.

The next evening, I walked out of my office right as the clock struck six. Sybil was already packing her bag.

"I am logging off now, sir," she said, slipping her phone into her purse.

"Have a good evening," I replied.

"You too," she said.

She did not linger to make small talk. She walked straight to the elevators. I agreed to her terms, but the newly enforced distance drove me completely crazy. She did her job flawlessly during the day, keeping her tone strictly professional. Then she disappeared.

At night, it was worse. She came to my room when required, did exactly what the contract demanded, and left before I could even catch my breath. She punished me with absolute compliance.

Saturday night arrived. I attended a high society dinner at a private club in the city with Quinn.

I sat beside my fiancée at a round table filled with mutual friends and local politicians. Quinn wore a stunning silver dress.

She looked beautiful. She navigated the complex social dynamics of the table with flawless grace, laughing easily at a joke the man across the table just made.

She turned to me, her hand resting warmly on my thigh beneath the table.

"Can you believe David actually bought that boat?" She asked, smiling brightly at me. "He gets seasick on a ferry."

I smiled back at her, covering her hand with mine. "He just wants to dock it in Monaco so people can take pictures of it."

"Exactly," she laughed softly. She tilted her head, her shoulder brushing mine. "His wife is going to make him sell it by next summer."

"I give it until December," I chulcked.

"You always win these bets," she teased.

I felt a surge of affection. I loved her. We made a perfect team, and I was proud to have her by my side.

She understood my world because it was her world too. We had known each other for years, and our lives fit together seamlessly.

But as the dinner dragged on, a heavy restlessness settled in my chest.

Quinn noticed my silence and she leaned closer to me. "You are very quiet tonight," she murmured, tracing my jaw gently with her fingers. "Is it the European merger?"

I looked at her beautiful face. I should be completely present with her. But my mind was somewhere else entirely.

I was thinking about the defiant woman currently sleeping in my house. I wondered if she was resting. I wondered if she was lying awake in the dark room at the end of the hall. The thought of her alone in the west wing clawed at my focus, demanding my attention.

"No, the merger is fine," I said softly. I squeezed her hand. "I just have a headache. I think I need to call it an early night."

Quinn's face softened with concern. "Do you want me to come back with you? We can leave right now."

"No, stay," I told her. "Enjoy the rest of the dinner. David is about to tell the story about the golf cart incident in Miami. You love that story."

Quinn smiled. "I do love that story. Are you sure you will be fine?"

"I just need some sleep," I assured her.

I leaned over and kissed her deeply, tasting her lipstick. She kissed me back, her fingers resting lightly on the back of my neck.

"I will call you tomorrow," I said, pulling back slowly.

"Rest well, Elias," she said.

I left the private club and got into the back of my waiting car. I told my driver to take me straight back to the estate.

The drive felt entirely too long. The dark city streets blurred past the window. My frustration grew with every passing mile.

I had everything a man in my position could possibly want. I had power, wealth, and a brilliant woman who loved me. I had absolutely no reason to feel this empty, burning ache in my chest.

The car pulled up to the front gates of the estate. I stepped out of the car into the cool night air. The massive house was completely silent and completely dark. The staff was already asleep in their quarters.

I unlocked the front doors and walked inside. I took my suit jacket off and draped it over a chair in the foyer. I loosened my tie, pulling the silk free from my collar as I walked toward the grand staircase.

My private quarters were on the east side of the house. My study, my bedroom, my entire life was built on that side.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

I stood in the silent foyer for a long minute. The rational part of my brain told me to walk up the stairs, go to sleep, and leave her alone.

I had a strict rule about staying away from her room. The contract dictated that she came to me. It was how I maintained order. It was how I kept the lines from blurring.

I ignored the rational part of my brain.

I turned away from the staircase. I walked straight down the dark corridor toward the west wing. My footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor, loud in the dead of night. I did not stop walking until I reached the closed door of her bedroom.