The Heat Above The Skyline

The skyline glowed outside Amelia’s office, twin reflections of steel and fire stretching across the glass as the sun dipped. It was late, nearly seven, and Blackwood Tower was quieter than usual executives were gone, drained from the today work, decisions had been made, strategies already been sent in private emails.

But inside the Chairwoman’s penthouse level office, the tension wasn’t professional.

It was personal. And pulsing.

Amelia stood by the window, arms folded, her navy-blue silk blouse soft against her skin. Her heels were off. Her bare feet pressed into the marble floor as she scanned a projected dashboard financials, restructuring data, and projections for the new clean-energy division.

Her heels were off. Her blouse was unbuttoned at the throat. She stood at her table, slender fingers gliding across a sleek architectural blueprint. One of two versions. The real one.

The glass doors clicked open.

She didn’t turn. She didn’t need to.

Miguel Favino’s scent cologne laced with gunpowder memory and old Havana nights always reached her before he did.

“I thought you were taking Leo to the museum,” she said softly.

Miguel came closer. “He wanted to play soccer instead. I watched. Cheered. Bought him too much ice cream. He beat me and the nanny is taking care of him at home.

A smile tugged at her lips. But she didn’t turn.

“Amelia.”

His voice deepened. That tone half command, half worship. It always melted her resolve.

She turned.

He stood behind her now, closing the space, his tailored charcoal shirt rolled to the elbows, exposing strong forearms and a veined wrist where a tattoo peeked from beneath his watch. His eyes, that stormy gray, locked with hers.

She spoke before he did. “We can’t I told you I have 30 minutes for me to prepare until the board meeting.

“I only need 20minutes mi amore for me to devour you slowly ,” Miguel said, walking toward her.

She didn’t protest when he kissed her. Their mouths collided like old promises and pent-up hunger. His hands roamed her waist, sliding up her back, pulling her flush against him.

“I thought we agreed to keep things professional at the office,” she teased, breathless.

“We said that before you wore this damn pencil skirt.”

Miguel backed her toward the desk, his mouth tracing fire down her neck as his fingers began undoing the tiny buttons of her blouse.

“You’ve been holding everything together,” he growled. “But you need to fall apart right here with me.”

Her breath hitched as her spine hit the edge of the desk. She tried to resist, but it was useless. She didn’t want to.

He kissed her again, rougher this time. Her hands clawed into his hair, pulled him closer. She opened her legs instinctively as he lifted her onto the table, papers and crystal pen Papers iPad blueprints all scattering to the floor.

“You’re playing god with this company,” he murmured against her lips, lifting her blouse over her head. “But with me, you don’t have to be anything but mine.”

She gasped the moment his fingers slipped beneath her lace, dragging it down at a maddening pace. His touch was firm, skilled two fingers pushing into her heat, moving with slow, deliberate pressure that made her thighs tremble.

His eyes never left hers.

“Miguel…” she whispered, already breathless.

“I want you loud,” he murmured, voice thick and low, like smoke curling in the dark. “I want them to hear you scream who you belong to.”

His hand wrapped around her throat not too tight, but enough to make her pulse race. her body arching into him, craving more.

“Say it,” he growled. “Who owns you?”

“You,” she moaned. “You, Miguel. You own every inch of me.”

Her legs locked tight around his waist as he drove into her in one deep, possession thrust. She moaned, head tilting back, fingers gripping the edge of the table as he began to move slow at first, deliberate and deep.

He didn’t ease up.

He gripped her hair, pulling her head back just enough to expose her throat, and began to move slow at first, then faster, deeper. Her body rocked against the table, hands clawing for balance as he pounded into her, each stroke a command, each thrust a promise.

The sound of skin on skin filled the room, her moans rising with every sharp movement. He slammed into her with force and purpose, his mouth at her neck, biting, tasting, claiming.

“Look at me,” he demanded, voice rough. “Let me see you fall apart.”

She met his gaze, her lips parted, her body tightening around him like a vice. Her release was about to come apart.

He growled her name like a prayer, like a curse. “Amelia… mine.”

The door swung open.

Miguel froze mid-thrust. Amelia gasped, trying to sit up but too late.

Damien stood in the doorway.

His eyes landed on her bare thighs spread across the desk, Miguel still buried deep between her legs. Her blouse wide open. Her hair wild. Her flushed cheeks. Her naked breasts.

“Shit,” Damien muttered, stepping back.

Miguel turned, murder in his eyes. “You knock before you enter a private office”

But Damien wasn’t listening.

He was staring at Amelia.

And something dangerous flickered in his gaze.

He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

Something twisted in his chest, an ache he didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t just lust it was possession like she was his.

He stormed off without another word, the door slamming behind him.

Amelia stood before the full-length mirror in her penthouse, running a brush slowly through her hair. The silence of the apartment was broken only by the gentle hum of the city below and the soft breathing of her son, fast asleep in the next room.

Out on the balcony, Miguel leaned against the railing, shirtless, a glass of red wine in one hand and his phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, firm, speaking to someone overseas. She didn’t have to ask he would be increasing security after Damien’s unexpected appearance.

But Amelia’s thoughts weren’t on Miguel.

They were stuck on Damien.

The way he’d looked at her tonight… like he already knew every inch of her skin. Like her body wasn’t a mystery to him.

That sent a shiver down her spine.

No one knew the truth about her past.

So why did he look at her like he did?

BLACKWOOD PENTHOUSE

Katherina paced her living room, barefoot, robe open, glass of vodka clutched in her trembling fingers. Jason Wu’s message replayed in her head:

“I Just Leaked the BULIDINGS blueprint. Press will run it tomorrow. Should be the final blow.”

A twisted smile curled on her lips.

“Let’s see her explain this mess.”

She turned on the news channel early, fingers jittery with excitement.

The story broke with flashing headlines:

“Amelia Blackwood Under Fire: Building Collapse, Embezzlement Allegations?”

News anchors shouted questions.

Reporters waved documents.

Then Amelia appeared on screen, calm, elegant, unbothered.

“I’m aware of the reports,” she said at the press conference, voice even and sharp. “Let’s clarify this and be done with it. The blueprint leaked is not the current design. It was scrapped six months ago. The building collapse referenced is a simulation used during testing.”

She held up the real blueprint.

One with active permits. Government approval. Solid progress.

“This,” she said, “is the truth.”

Reporters whispered among themselves, their murmurs rising like static. A PR officer moved swiftly through the crowd, handing out printed copies of the official blueprint.

One by one, doubt began to crumble.

“The building hasn’t collapsed,” Amelia said, her tone calm and composed. “It hasn’t even broken ground yet. But now” she paused, letting silence work in her favor “I invite all of you to the launch ceremony next week.”

Across town, a glass of vodka exploded against Katherina’s wall.

“HOW?!” she screamed.

Her fingers trembled as she snatched up her phone and dialed.

“Hello?” came Jason’s unsure voice.

“You told me that blueprint was real!”

“I I thought it was”

“She played you, Jason,” Katherina hissed. “She fed you that fake design. You leaked it to the press. And now she’s just buried us.”

“I didn’t know”

“She knew you were the mole,” she snarled. “She set a trap. And we walked straight into it. Now I’m the one looking like an incompetent fool.”

On her screen, the live broadcast continued. Amelia turned her gaze directly to the camera.

She winked. “Thank you all for your time and for always trusting BlackwoodStone Enterprises.”

A moment of stunned silence followed.

Then, applause broke out in the background.

The live feed cut.

Katherina stared at the now blank screen, her chest rising and falling in sharp breaths.

Her world was slipping through her fingers

and once again, Amelia had won.