Emma's pov
From the moment Alex Mercer walked into the room, I felt it—a pull, a tension that crackled in the air between us, like an electric current. I tried to ignore it, to stay focused on why I was there, but the feeling was impossible to push aside. It wasn't just his presence, though that alone was enough to leave me unsettled. It was everything about him—the cold, calculated precision in his movements, the way his eyes seemed to pierce right through me, seeing more than I wanted to reveal.
He wasn't like anyone I'd ever met. He was distant, controlled, as if the world bent to his will simply because he expected it to. It should have terrified me, and in some ways, it did. But beneath that fear, there was something else—something dangerous, something I hadn't expected.
Attraction.
It hit me hard, that realization, because it made no sense. I was supposed to be negotiating, supposed to be saving my company, not feeling drawn to the man who could crush everything I'd built without a second thought. And yet, there it was—this undeniable pull toward him, this strange fascination with the power he carried so effortlessly. I hated that I felt it, that even as he talked to me in that cold, detached way, some part of me couldn't look away.
The room felt smaller with him in it, like his presence consumed all the space, leaving me hyper-aware of every movement, every word. My heart pounded faster when his eyes met mine, those sharp, ice-blue eyes that were as unreadable as they were captivating. I could feel him analyzing me, assessing every reaction, and yet it didn't feel like I was just another business transaction to him. There was something else beneath the surface, something that made my pulse quicken.
I wasn't used to this. I wasn't used to feeling so out of control, especially around someone like him. But it was more than just physical attraction. It was the way he carried himself, the confidence that radiated from him without a single word, the sense that he was used to getting exactly what he wanted. And maybe, somewhere deep down, I wondered what it would be like if, just for a moment, I could be the one who defied him.
His voice was smooth, his words deliberate, and I found myself hanging onto every one, even though I knew better. I was supposed to be keeping my distance, guarding myself against him. But every time he spoke, the room felt hotter, the air thicker, and I couldn't help but notice the way his gaze lingered on me for just a beat longer than it should have. Did he feel it too, that same tension? Or was I just imagining it?
When he moved closer, my breath hitched slightly, though I tried to keep my composure. I couldn't let him see how much he affected me. He was dangerous, I knew that, but there was a thrill in it too. The danger, the risk—it was intoxicating in a way I hadn't expected.
I told myself it was just the situation, that the stress of everything had heightened my emotions, made me more susceptible to him. But that wasn't true. This feeling wasn't born out of desperation; it was something deeper, something I couldn't quite explain. I had never been attracted to someone like Alex before—someone who held so much power and seemed utterly indifferent to how it affected people. But that only made it worse, made him more compelling. He wasn't trying to impress me. He didn't need to.
And that, maybe, was what made him so irresistible.
Even when he turned his back to me, pacing toward the window with that effortless grace, I couldn't stop watching him. He was like a storm, controlled on the surface but with something fierce and untamable just underneath. I wondered if anyone had ever truly seen beneath that calm exterior, or if he always kept the world at arm's length, never letting anyone close enough to touch him.
But for some reason, I wanted to. I wanted to know what lay beneath that cold, composed surface, even if it meant getting burned.
When he finally looked back at me, his eyes locking onto mine, the tension between us felt like it might snap. There was something in that look, something unspoken that made my skin prickle. Did he know? Could he tell what I was feeling?
I tried to speak, to respond to his questions, but the words felt hollow compared to the weight of his gaze. I could sense the control he had over the room, over me, and yet, despite everything, I wasn't scared. Not really.
What I felt was something far more dangerous.
I was drawn to him—irrevocably, irresistibly drawn to the man who could ruin me in more ways than one. And the worst part?
I didn't want to stop.