Chapter 5

— I should have killed that bastard a long time ago. Let him rot like the others. Fuck, if he touches a single hair on your head…

He stops short, throwing his jacket onto the chair with a violence that makes the office tremble. Then his green eyes finally land on me, and something changes. The fury softens slightly, replaced by forced calm. He exhales slowly, leaning against his desk.

— Amanda, he says in a softer voice, almost surprised. It's nothing. Just a… altercation.

He rummages through a side drawer, pulls out a worn first‑aid kit  bandages, disinfectant, gauze. But before he can open it, I step closer, driven by an instinct I don't understand myself. I've always been like this: helpful, empathetic, even with those who don't deserve it. My roommates often fault me for it  "Amanda, stop trying to fix everyone"  but I can't help it.

— Let me see, I say, reaching for the kit. He raises an eyebrow, but lets me take it. Instead of handing it back, I open it on the desk, take out a cotton ball soaked in disinfectant. Sit down. This could get infected.

He hesitates, then sits on the edge of his desk, letting me approach. I start with his temple, gently dabbing the wound. The dried blood wipes away, revealing a clean cut knife? Fist? I don't dare ask. Cameron watches me, silent, his warm breath brushing my wrist. Then, in a low voice, almost a whisper:

— You shouldn't worry about me, Amanda. Otherwise, I might think you like me… and allow myself things you can't even imagine.

The words freeze me in place. An electric sensation runs through my body, a warm current starting at my neck and travelling down my spine. His green eyes plunge into mine, intense, possessive, as if he's already undressing me with his gaze. I feel my cheeks flush, embarrassed, exposed. It's not desire  not yet but a burning confusion that knots my stomach. I try to change the subject, fast, to break the moment.

— I… I need to disinfect your hands too. Otherwise, it could get worse.

I kneel slightly to reach his hands resting on his knees, dabbing his scraped knuckles. The touch is clinical but intimate his strong, calloused fingers contrasting with my soft skin. He lets me work for a moment, then his free hand slides under my chin, gently lifting my face toward his.

— Look at me, Amanda.

I obey, trapped by his gaze.

— What do you see? A low‑life thug? A man fighting in dark alleys to survive?

His voice is hoarse, carrying a fleeting vulnerability beneath the hard facade. I hesitate, throat tight.

— Um… no. Not really.

He smiles, a cold smile tinged with amusement.

— Do you think these scratches can destroy me? That I'm weak because I bleed?

— No, I whisper, sincere despite myself. He is anything but weak.

— Then what are you looking for, Amanda?

His fingers brush my cheek, an almost tender gesture that makes my heart leap. I don't know why  fear? Curiosity? Something more primal? I feel my pulse quicken, a diffuse warmth rising inside me, but I don't have time to analyse it.

The door opens at that exact moment. Elena enters, a thick folder under her arm.

— Mr. Black, here are the documents you requested. And there's an emergency: they're asking for you at the club immediately.

She sets the folder on the desk, shooting a discreet but curious glance at me, still kneeling with bandages in hand. Then she leaves, closing the door without another word.

The moment is broken. Cameron springs to his feet, grabbing his jacket.

— I have to go.

He looks at me one last time, intense, then storms out.

I'm left alone, still kneeling, heart pounding. Slowly, I stand up, packing away the first‑aid kit. My eyes fall on the folder Elena dropped off: labelled "CONFIDENTIAL" in big red letters. It's lying there, open on the desk, pages visible names, numbers, addresses that seem innocuous at first glance but might hide more. An idea or rather, an impulsive urge  crosses my mind. What if I snooped? After all, I'm alone in the office. The contents of these documents could give me more information about the situation. I signed this contract out of fear, but I'm not stupid. I know that the more I know, the better my chances of getting out of this. Of understanding what's really going on at Black Industries. Of maybe finding a way out.

But the risk is enormous. Cameron could come back any minute. Elena too. What if I'm caught?