Vince
The moment I dialled Sophia's extension, I knew what I wanted. No pleasantries, no hesitation. My fingers drummed against the polished wood of my desk as the phone rang once, twice. Then came the familiar click, and her voice—soft, unsure—floated through the speaker.
"Yes, Vince?"
"Come to my office," I replied. The command was clear, leaving no room for ambiguity.
I could hear her breath catch on the other end, a flicker of hesitation. She knew what was waiting for her behind these doors, and so did I. "Right away."
I hung up before she could say more, my eyes drifting to the large window behind me. Outside, the sun was casting long shadows over the grounds of my estate, a fitting metaphor for what was about to unfold.
The door to my office opened, and there she stood—Sophia, framed by the dim light filtering through the hallway. For a moment, she hesitated, her eyes catching mine with that familiar look—anticipation, fear, desire. A combination she could never hide.
"Come in," I said softly, the calmness in my voice betraying the heat simmering underneath.
She closed the door behind her without a word, walking toward me with a subtle apprehension. Her gaze flicked to the floor, avoiding me like she always did.
"Sophia," I murmured, standing from my chair and walking around my desk, taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. I stopped just inches away from her, close enough that I could hear her shallow breath and see the pulse quicken in her neck. "You know why I called you in here."
She didn't respond. Instead, she just nodded, her lips parting slightly as if she were about to speak but stopping herself before any words could form.
Her silence was telling, but her body was more honest. I could see the way she leaned in, the way her shoulders relaxed even though every instinct she had told her to resist. She wanted me. She always did.
I reached out and gently cupped her chin, tilting her head up so she'd be forced to meet my gaze. "You belong to me," I said, my voice low and firm. "And you've always known it."
I saw her swallow, her breath catching as my thumb brushed over her lower lip. Her eyes flickered with defiance, but I could tell it was only a front—a mask to hide the fact that her resolve was crumbling. She was mine, and no amount of defiance could change that.
In one swift motion, I closed the distance between us, capturing her mouth with mine. The kiss was rough, unapologetic, filled with the hunger I'd kept at bay for too long. I could feel her tense for a split second, her hands instinctively rising to push me away, but the resistance melted as quickly as it appeared.
Her hands gripped my shirt, pulling me closer instead of pushing me away, and I deepened the kiss, letting her feel the weight of my desire. Every inch of her body responded to mine, and it wasn't long before her soft gasps filled the space between us, the sound driving me further into the moment.
I pushed her back against my desk, not bothering to be gentle as I hoisted her onto it. Her legs parted, wrapping around me instinctively, her body molding perfectly to mine as I moved against her.
She was soft and warm under my hands, her skin flushed with heat. Every breath, every touch, was electric, charged with the tension that had been building for weeks. I knew she was losing herself in the moment, her control slipping with each kiss, each touch.
But as always, business had a way of interrupting.
There was a sharp knock at the door, and I pulled back, breathing heavily as I glanced at the clock. The investors. Damn it.
I adjusted my tie, stepping slightly away from Sophia, who was still breathless and flushed, perched on the edge of my desk. She scrambled to fix her clothes, smoothing down her skirt as she tried to regain her composure.
"Boss," came the voice from the other side of the door. Luca was right on schedule. "The investors are waiting."
I let out a slow breath, trying to bury the frustration that threatened to surface. "We'll continue this later," I said to Sophia, my voice barely above a whisper. "Don't forget who you belong to."
She nodded, her gaze still clouded with the remnants of our encounter, but there was something else there now. A hint of fear, maybe. Uncertainty.
I liked that.
The boardroom was already a cauldron of tension when we arrived. The low hum of conversation among the investors snapped off like a switch the moment I stepped in, their eyes locking onto me. It wasn't just respect I commanded—it was fear, a dark, palpable fear that hung in the air like smoke. A dozen powerful men and women sat around the long glass table, all clad in their sharp suits and thousand-dollar watches, their carefully cultivated appearances failing to mask the greed seething underneath. They had come to feast, and I was the lion at the head of the table.
Sophia followed closely, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor, the only sound that dared fill the sudden void. She took her seat beside me, her face an impassive mask, but the tension between us was electric. She looked calm, but I could still sense her unease, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The heat between us was undeniable, simmering below the cold professionalism she wore like armor.
The meeting started smoothly enough. The usual parade of financial projections, strategic expansions, and investment opportunities flowed effortlessly from me. I knew how to manipulate a room—giving them just enough to taste victory without revealing my hand. They were captivated, leaning forward in their chairs, hanging on every word. They always did.
Sophia passed me documents without a word, her fingers brushing mine as she did. It was a fleeting touch, but it sent a surge of something primal through me. I could feel her pulse quicken, even if no one else in the room could. Her calm was a fragile thing, and beneath it, I knew she was unravelling.
As the presentation drew to a close, Reynolds spoke. Of course, it had to be him—Reynolds, the smug bastard. He leaned back in his chair, a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth, fingers steepled like he had already won some unspoken contest.
"Mr. Harris," Reynolds said, his tone slick with arrogance, "I have to ask—who exactly prepared this presentation? There are some glaring omissions, and I'd hate to think it was someone on your team who let this slip." His gaze locked onto Sophia, the insinuation clear.
I didn't hesitate. "Sophia prepared it," I said, my voice sharp, daring him to continue. "Every detail was handled by her." My eyes narrowed as I stared him down, the temperature in the room dropping. "Is there a problem with that?"
"Mr. Harris," he drawled, his voice thick with condescension. "The plans seem solid enough. But..." His gaze shifted to Sophia again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It appears Miss Clark has let a few key elements slip through the cracks. Not exactly the level of professionalism I'd expect from your team."
I felt the heat rising in my chest, but I kept my expression neutral, waiting for him to elaborate. He leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the moment. "For instance, your revenue projections for the third quarter of next year. They seem... optimistic, to put it mildly. Based on current trends in market volatility and inflation, I'd say a ten percent increase is closer to fantasy than reality."
He shifted his gaze to the papers in front of him, tapping them for emphasis. "Then there's the expansion strategy for the European market. I couldn't help but notice that you've allocated significant resources toward it, but the risk assessments? Virtually non-existent. You're talking about moving into a region where political instability is at an all-time high, yet there's no contingency plan for potential economic fallout. It's careless, frankly."
The room fell even quieter as Reynolds paused, his eyes flicking back to Sophia. "And let's not forget the legal due diligence on the real estate acquisitions. Some of those properties are tied up in regulatory red tape, but I don't see any timeline adjustments for expected delays. It's like whoever put this together didn't bother to look beyond the surface."
He smirked again, basking in his smug superiority. "It's not the kind of oversight I'd expect from someone who supposedly pays attention to detail. But maybe Miss Clark is just a little... overwhelmed." The insinuation was as thick as the tension in the room, and his meaning couldn't have been clearer.
All eyes turned to me, but I could already feel Sophia freeze beside me, her breath hitching in her throat. Her skin went pale, and for a split second, the composed mask she wore cracked. I saw the fear in her eyes—fear of disappointing me, fear of whatever consequences might follow.
A red haze clouded my vision. Rage—dark, violent, uncontrollable—boiled up inside me. The world around me blurred as I locked eyes with Reynolds, and in that instant, he ceased to be a man and became a problem I had to solve. How dare he. How dare he try to humiliate her in front of me, in front of everyone. He had no idea what kind of fire he was playing with.
I leaned back in my chair, struggling to keep my voice steady despite the storm of fury brewing inside me. "Sophia, I need you to go to my office. There are some important documents in the cabinet next to my desk in a red file. Please fetch them for me." My tone was flat, but there was an edge to it that cut through the room. The truth was, I needed her as far away from here as possible—what was about to happen was too dangerous for her to witness.
Her eyes darted to mine, wide and stricken, as if she was searching for some sign of forgiveness, but there was none to give. She nodded silently and stood, practically bolting from the room. The second the door closed behind her, the tension in the room thickened, wrapping itself around everyone like a vice.
The moment Sophia left, the entire boardroom seemed to hold its breath. Reynolds leaned back in his chair, his smug smile still plastered on his face, completely unaware of the consequences brewing in my mind. My gaze never left him, and as the seconds stretched, I could feel the heat of rage building inside me—an inferno threatening to consume everything in its path.
"I've tolerated your arrogance for the past two years, Reynolds," I said, my voice low and lethal, the calm before the storm. Every eye in the room was now glued to me, the tension almost suffocating. "You think you can humiliate Sophia in front of me? In front of everyone? You've made a mistake."
Reynolds shifted slightly in his chair, his smirk faltering for a brief moment before he regained his composure. "Mr. Harris, I simply meant—"
I didn't let him finish.
In one swift, fluid motion, I reached into my jacket and pulled out a small pocket knife—sleek, deadly, and silent. My fingers gripped the handle with a practiced ease as I weighed my next move carefully. The room went deathly quiet, and I could feel the collective shock ripple through the air as I lifted the knife.
In truth, I wanted to use my gun. The quick, deafening crack would have been a fitting end to Reynolds' arrogance. But Sophia's trauma was too fresh, too raw. The sound of gunshots still haunted her, and even the mere sight of a gun was enough to send her spiralling into panic. I couldn't risk that—not again. The last thing I wanted was for her to hear another gunshot or witness the carnage that was about to unfold. A knife would be quieter, cleaner—more personal.
Reynolds' eyes widened as he saw the flash of steel. "Vince, wait—"
But it was too late. In a blink, I flicked my wrist, sending the knife spinning through the air with deadly precision. The blade cut through the silence of the room like a whisper, a gleam of silver that moved so fast it was almost invisible.
It struck Reynolds square in his right eye, the force of the throw sinking the blade deep into the socket. His scream was immediate and guttural, cut off almost as quickly as it began. His hand shot up to his face, blood pouring through his fingers as he toppled from his chair, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
The room erupted in chaos. Chairs scraped back as the other investors recoiled in horror, some gasping, others too shocked to move. But I stayed calm. I didn't flinch. My eyes remained cold and focused as I rose from my chair and walked slowly around the table, stepping over Reynolds' writhing body like it was nothing more than an inconvenience.
"Let this be a lesson to all of you," I said, my voice unnervingly calm. "I don't tolerate disrespect. Not toward me, and certainly not toward those under my protection."
The others sat frozen, their faces ashen. No one dared speak. No one dared move. I could feel their fear, see it etched in their eyes as they glanced between me and the blood pooling beneath Reynolds.
I crouched down beside him, watching as he gasped and clawed at the floor, his vision already gone, his life quickly draining away. I leaned in close, my voice a soft whisper, just for him. "Next time, think twice before you disrespect someone I care deeply for."
Reynolds' breathing grew shallow, and I stood up, wiping my hands on a handkerchief I pulled from my pocket. Without another word, I turned back toward the door, straightening my jacket as I walked out of the room, leaving the board in stunned silence.
Sophia would never hear a thing.