The walls of Donovan Tower were too silent the next morning. Talia's heels echoed down the corridor like a countdown. Her lips were painted red war paint. Her pencil skirt clung like sin. Every step was rehearsed, deliberate, defiant. She wouldn't beg. She wouldn't break and she wouldn't let him win.
Her new keycard granted her entry to the top floor. The elevator opened into Kian's penthouse office, sunlight slicing through the windows like blades.
He was already at his desk. Polished. Cold. Gorgeous as sin.
He didn't look up. "You're late."
"It's 8:58."
He glanced at his watch. "Exactly."
She set her bag down. "What's my assignment, sir?"
Kian slowly looked up and smiled. "You'll be shadowing me. Watching how I conduct high-level meetings. How I… handle pressure."
His tone was laced with something darker. Something that tugged low in her stomach. "And since I like to keep my staff on their toes," he continued, "I've left a note for you in the drawer behind you."
She turned. Opened it and froze.
Inside was a collar, black leather. Gold buckle. No tag just sleek submission, waiting to be worn. Her pulse spiked. "You've got to be kidding."
"No." He leaned back, lazily. "I never joke."
"This isn't business. It's a—"
"Test," he interrupted. "To see if you're willing to give up control. Just for an hour. Wear it under your blouse. Only I will know."
Her hands trembled over the drawer.
He wanted her humiliated.
He wanted her owned but what he didn't expect was for her to smile.
She lifted the collar, fastened it around her neck beneath her silk blouse, and turned to face him composed, shoulders squared, lips parted slightly.
"It's done," she said.
His jaw flexed. She caught the flicker in his eyes not triumph, Surprise, and something else Need. He didn't expect her to yield so fast.
She stepped closer. "Now what, sir?"
Kian stood slowly, coming around the desk. He stopped just inches away. His hand moved toward her throat hovering just above the hidden collar.
"You wore it."
"I did."
"Why?"
Talia's eyes met his, calm and lethal. "Because I know your game now. And I'm going to win."
He smirked. "You think this is a game?"
"I think everything is, to you. Including me."
His hand dropped to his side.
"Meeting in five minutes," he said coldly. "Boardroom. Let's see how long you last with my name wrapped around your neck."
The meeting was glass-walled, overlooking half of Manhattan Executives filed in men in custom suits, women with perfect posture. No one knew what she was wearing beneath her blouse. No one saw the sweat on her lower back. Or the flush in her cheeks except him.
Kian sat across from her, legs wide, arms relaxed completely in control. Every so often, his gaze would flick to her throat. His mouth would twitch. And her breath would catch because the tension wasn't just mental. It was physical, Torturous, and electric.
"Miss Voss," one of the board members said, turning to her. "Thoughts on Donovan's restructuring proposal?"
Talia blinked. Her thoughts were not on restructuring. They were on the man across from her whose eyes were silently daring her to crack but she didn't flinch.
"I support it," she said smoothly. "But I'd recommend deferring international licensing until Q3. The timing's better for tax positioning."
Kian's brow rose slightly. The other board members nodded in agreement and for the first time since she'd stepped into his world, she saw it respect. The meeting ended. Everyone filed out.
Kian waited until the room was empty, then shut the glass door behind him. He turned slowly, prowling toward her, his expression unreadable.
"You liked wearing it," he said.
"No," she replied. "I liked beating you at your own game."
He stopped in front of her, arms caging her against the glass. "You think this is over?"
"I think," she said breathlessly, "you're slipping. You gave me power without meaning to. I didn't feel owned. I felt in control."
His jaw clenched. Then he leaned in lips at her ear. "I could bend you over this table right now. Make you forget your own name."
Her thighs squeezed together involuntarily. "But you won't," she whispered, "because you still want me to choose you."
He pulled back, staring at her.
Then, a knock on the door.
Kian didn't move. "What?"
His assistant's voice filtered through the glass. "Sir, someone's here to see Miss Voss."
"Who?"
The door opened and he walked in. Talia froze.
Luca Romano. Dark suit. Sharp jaw. The man she hadn't seen in three years. The man who knew everything including the truth about what really happened the night Kian was betrayed. Luca's eyes met hers, and his voice was smooth, too calm. "Talia. We need to talk."
Kian looked between them, and something dangerous bloomed in his eyes.
"You know him?" he asked tightly.
Talia's voice came out hoarse. "Yes," she said. But what she didn't say was worse. He's the reason you think I betrayed you.