Chapter One: The Four-Minute Debt

"You’re four minutes late, Elena. I don’t pay you to waste my time."

Silas didn’t look up. He sat behind his desk like a stone statue, his voice cutting through the silence of the 50th floor.

"The elevator was stuck, Silas. Get over it," I snapped.

My lungs burned. My heels were killing me. I walked right up to the edge of his desk and leaned in. I wanted him to see my rage, but all I could smell was him—rain and expensive woodsmoke. It made my knees weak.

"The Mercer report," I hissed, slamming the file down between us.

We were inches apart. I watched his jaw tighten. I watched his eyes darken as they tracked my mouth. The air between us felt like it was about to catch fire.

"Page forty-seven," I whispered. "The error you’ve been screaming about for six hours. It’s fixed. Now, can I go, or do you need me to breathe for you, too?"

Silas finally looked up. He looked hungry. "I don't care about the report, Elena," he rasped. His voice was a low growl that vibrated in my chest.

He stood up slowly, looming over me, pinning me against the hard edge of the desk. "I care that you’re standing here, smelling like vanilla and defiance, thinking you can talk to me that way."

"What are you going to do?" I challenged. "Fire me?"

"Firing you would be too easy," he murmured, his eyes dropping to my lips.

I reached for the file to pull away, but the paper caught my thumb. A clean, sharp slice.

A drop of blood hit the white page.

Silas went deathly still. His nostrils flared. His eyes shifted, the gray vanishing into a molten, predatory gold.

"Mate."

Before I could move, his hand shot out. His fingers were iron bands around my wrist, hauling me flush against his chest. I could feel his heart hammering—not like a human’s, but like a drum.

"Silas, let go," I breathed, my pulse skyrocketing as his heat soaked into my skin.

"Never," he growled.

He reached for the console on his desk without looking. Click. The heavy office doors deadlocked. Click. The blinds snapped shut.

"The office is closed, Elena," he whispered against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin. "And you’re exactly where you belong.”

I didn't move. I couldn't. The sound of those deadbolts was the finality of a cage door shutting.

"Silas, you're scaring me," I whispered, though my body was telling a different story.

Everywhere our skin met, it felt like a live wire was sparking. The cold, professional distance we’d maintained for a year hadn’t just vanished; it had been incinerated. His hand moved from my wrist to the small of my back, pulling me so tight against his thighs that I could feel the ridge of his desire.

"Good," he rasped, his voice sounding like gravel and silk. "You should be scared. I’ve spent twelve months fighting the urge to do this."

He leaned down, his face burying into the crook of my neck. He didn't kiss me. He inhaled, a deep, ragged sound that made my toes curl in my pumps.

"You smell like lightning," he groaned against my skin. "And blood. My blood."

"I'm not yours, Silas. I'm your secretary. This is a lawsuit waiting to happen," I said, my voice trembling even as my fingers instinctively curled into the lapels of his suit.

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye. The gold in his pupils was swirling like a storm. "I'll buy the court. I'll buy the laws. You think I care about a contract when my wolf is screaming that you're the only thing keeping him from tearing this city apart?"

"Your wolf?" I let out a breathy, frantic laugh. "You’ve finally lost it. The stress snapped you."

"Look at my eyes, Elena. Tell me what you see."

I looked. It wasn't a trick of the light. The gold was glowing, a predatory, ancient light that made the hair on my arms stand up. His grip on my waist tightened, his large palm splaying across my lower back, forcing me to feel the raw power vibrating through him.

"I am the Alpha of the Silver Moon," he whispered, his lips brushing mine. "And for a year, I’ve watched other men look at you. I’ve watched you smile at the courier and thank the janitor, all while you gave me nothing but cold reports and silence."

"Because you’re my boss!" I shouted, the frustration finally boiling over. "You were the Ice King! You didn't even know my name for the first six months!"

"I knew your name before you even signed the HR papers," he growled.

He didn't wait for another word. He crashed his mouth onto mine.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was a claim. It tasted like coffee, rain, and a year of suppressed hunger. I should have pushed him. I should have fought. But the moment his tongue teased my lips, my brain went offline. A surge of white-hot energy shot through my spine, a physical recognition that made me moan into his mouth.

My hands moved from his lapels to his hair, my fingers tangling in the thick, dark strands as I pulled him closer. I wanted to be closer. I wanted to crawl inside his skin.

He groaned, the sound vibrating into my throat as he lifted me off my feet and sat me back onto the mahogany desk. My skirt hiked up, my bare thighs meeting the cold wood, but I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the heat of his hands sliding up my legs.

"Tell me to stop," he gasped, pulling back just an inch, his lips swollen and wet. "Tell me you want me to let you out of this room, and I will. I'll die doing it, but I'll let you go."

I looked at the locked door, then back at the golden-eyed man who looked like he’d burn the world down just to keep me.

"Don't you dare stop, Silas," I whispered.

He didn't. He swept the Mercer report and the missing million onto the floor with one hand, clearing the desk for us. As the papers fluttered like dying birds, he pulled me back into the heat.

The office was deadlocked. The lights were low. And the Ice King was finally melting