Chapter 2: Instant Connection

Elena's pov

"So, Mrs. Sterling," Damien said, his dark eyes pinning me to my chair. "The coastal distribution numbers from the last quarter. What is your take on the recent variance?"

My mouth opened. The moment he asked, the old financial data clicked automatically in my brain. I thought about the forty-seven million and the shell companies. Finally someone was asking questions about the wrong numbers I had noticed.

I could answer. I wanted to.

I opened my mouth. "Three transfers went through the same coastal holding company on matching dates, and the—"

Before I could finish, Clara cut in with a sharp sneer.

"Oh, Mr. Blackwood, you're asking the wrong person," Clara laughed, waving her hand dismissively. "Elena doesn't concern herself with company affairs anymore. She prefers to leave the complicated work to the men who actually understand it. She's just a housewife."

Clara laid her hand directly on Damien's sleeve.

"But I know a lot about the business actually. If you want to discuss it with a woman, I'm sure you'd rather discuss the acquisition with me."

Damien looked down at her hand on his arm. His expression didn't change. But the air in the room instantly turned freezing cold.

He reached up, took Clara's wrist, and slowly, deliberately, removed her hand from his suit.

"I asked Mrs. Sterling," Damien said. His voice was cold enough to frost glass. "Not you. I don't appreciate you interrupting my conversation."

Clara's smile shattered. A bright, angry blush crept up her neck.

Across the table, Marcus's jaw tightened in warning, but he didn't dare speak back to a billionaire who held their survival in his hands.

Damien's dark eyes returned to me. Waiting for me to answer but Mrs. Sterling cleared her throat with a sharp, forced laugh.

"Clara is only trying to be helpful, Mr. Blackwood. Elena has been away from business for so long, she can hardly be expected to keep up with men like you but my daughter is extremely capable. She helps Marcus with these things."

She lifted her empty wine glass, holding it directly out toward me. Her eyes narrowed into cruel slits.

"Fill this, dear. I need it immediately."

I hesitated for half a second. My hand shook as I reached for the crystal decanter.

That was all she needed.

Before my fingers could touch the bottle, Mrs. Sterling purposely released her grip.

The glass tilted over the edge of the table and shattered violently against the hardwood floor.

Water and red wine splattered everywhere, soaking the bottom of my green silk dress.

"Clumsy as always!" Mrs. Sterling snapped, her voice booming. "Clean it up right now. Our guests are going to think this household is run by an incompetent fool."

My face burned with humiliation.

I didn't say a word. I dropped to my knees on the hard floor, my fingers trembling as I began gathering the large, sharp shards of crystal.

Marcus watched me grovel from his chair. Completely indifferent.

Suddenly, a jagged edge sliced deeply across my palm. I gasped. Bright, crimson blood welled up, dripping onto the floor.

Before I could reach for another piece, a shadow fell over me.

Adrian Hayes was already on the floor beside me.

He crouched down, not minding if his expensive trousers was ruined in the spilled wine. He gently took the broken glass out of my bleeding fingers.

"You're bleeding," Adrian said quietly.

He pulled a crisp, white handkerchief from his breast pocket and pressed it firmly against my wound. As he did that, his large thumb brushed over the soft skin of my inner wrist which sent another intense shiver straight through my body.

Adrian looked up at Mrs. Sterling. His handsome face still held a polite smile, but his amber eyes were dead and terrifyingly cold.

"Perhaps you should clean the rest, Mrs. Sterling," Adrian murmured, his voice smooth as silk. "You are much closer to the mess."

Mrs. Sterling's face went completely rigid. Clara gasped.

Marcus cleared his throat in a panicked warning, but Adrian ignored all of them. He kept his eyes on my face for one more lingering second, his thumb rubbing my wrist, before he finally released me.

I scrambled to my feet, my legs unsteady. My pulse pounded in my ears.

"I'll... I'll get more wine," I choked out.

I turned and escaped through the swinging doors into the kitchen, clutching the blood-soaked handkerchief.

The kitchen was dim, cool, and silent as I leaned my back against the tiled wall, and tried to catch my breath. My mind was spinning.

Who are these men? Why did Damien's stare feel like a promise? Why did Adrian's touch leave my entire body aching?

The soft sound of footsteps approached and Roman Kane showed up in the kitchen.

He didn't look surprised to find me hiding in the dark. He just walked calmly to the counter, filled a glass with water, and turned around.

In two quiet steps, he closed the distance and stepped directly into my space, pressing my back firmly against the wall.

He stood so close that the heat radiating from his chest washed over me. I tilted my head back to meet his gaze and his striking silver eyes searched mine completely unreadable.

"The variance in the coastal contracts," Roman whispered, his voice low, sending a thrill straight down my spine. "You saw it, didn't you?"

My mouth went completely dry but I managed a small nod.

"It was... too obvious. Anyone would have caught it."

Roman tilted his head and lifted one hand, placing his palm firmly against the wall right beside my head. He didn't touch me, but the sheer proximity made the air between us thicken until I couldn't breathe.

His gaze dropped to my parted lips staying there which made my pulse thud so hard that I was certain he could hear it.

The sexual tension in the dark kitchen was suffocating.

I waited, my heart leaping into my throat, expecting him to close the final inch and kiss me.

Instead, Roman reached past my shoulder, grabbed the glass of water from the counter, and took a slow step back.

His eyes never left mine.

"Good night, Mrs. Sterling," he murmured. "Do something about it."

He turned and walked out without another word.

I stayed pressed against the cool wall long after his footsteps faded. My lips were still parted and my face burned.

My hand stung from the cut, but deep down in my stomach, a sharp, unexpected rush of disappointment coiled tight.

He hadn't kissed me, but I desperately wanted him to.

And that thing that he said about my company finance had already started to take shape in my mind.