Daniel barely made it to his office before the flush hit him, heat crawling up the back of his neck. He slammed the door and paced, furious at himself, at the way his hands still trembled from the contact. He could still feel her—the soft give of her waist, the warmth of her spine pressed right against his chest. Stupid. Totally, dangerously stupid.
He crossed to the window, bracing both hands on the edge of the glass. The manicured grounds outside looked fake, like a stock image or a rendering. He waited for his heart rate to drop, but it wouldn't. Goddamn it.
Why was it suddenly so hard to think straight?
His phone buzzed on the desk, bright with a new alert. Quarterly review. He ignored it.
Instead, he hit speed dial for Marcus.
Marcus picked up on the second ring with calm and efficiency as always. "Daniel."
"I want to discuss the Singapore project," Daniel said, voice clipped and loud in the hush of the office. "We need to get ahead of the transition protocol and handle the risk modeling directly. No more back-and-forth through analysts."
A beat of silence. Daniel realized he was gripping the phone like it might sprout legs and leap from his hand.
"I agree," Marcus said. "But the report's due end of month. There's time."
"No. I want it resolved by next week. In person. I'll meet you in the city." Daniel stood straighter, as if Marcus might see him through the phone. "Book the penthouse. Full security. No staff briefings, no remote access, no distractions. Just numbers and strategy."
Now Marcus hesitated. Daniel could almost picture the man on the other end, eyes narrowed, weighing the words.
"I'll arrange it," Marcus said, slow, careful. "But it's very sudden. You never leave the estate mid-quarter. Is something wrong?"
Daniel almost laughed. Wasn't that the understatement of the year.
"Nothing's wrong," he said, too quickly. "I just need to get ahead of the market. It's not negotiable, Marcus."
He gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles hurt. "You'll stay at the house and keep an eye on the situation here. Especially the new hire."
There. He'd said it. He felt like a coward, but the thought of another day in this house, watching Emma Carter orbit closer and closer, made his skin prickle. He had to get out.
"I don't understand. You want me to act as…what, exactly?" Marcus sounded almost annoyed. Maybe even suspicious. "You never delegate oversight of Alex's education. Are you expecting problems with Ms. Carter?"
Daniel didn't answer right away. For a second, he actually considered telling the truth. That maybe he was the one who was the problem. That maybe he couldn't be in the same space as her without losing control.
But he'd die before he said that out loud.
"Monitor her lessons," he said. "Report anything unusual. If she breaks protocol, address it immediately. I'll handle the rest when I return."
Another silence.
"Is this about Emma?" Marcus finally asked.
Daniel froze. When did Marcus get on a first name basis with her?
"Why would it be?" he shot back. Too quick. Way too quick. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears. Was he standing too close to the glass? Was his voice normal? He tried to steady it. "She's just a new hire. I don't know her."
"Except you did watch the entire first session," Marcus said, not even bothering to hide it now. "Three separate feeds. You haven't checked a single security report from R&D since nine this morning. You want to tell me this is just risk management?"
God, Marcus was relentless. Daniel squeezed the bridge of his nose, focused on the pressure, the brief spike of pain. "Look. If she lasts a week, I'll be shocked. So just… keep her from screwing up the routine. That's all I care about."
A pause. Marcus's voice, a little softer. "She's different. You see that, right?"
Daniel stared at the pond outside, the koi moving in slow, perfect loops. He didn't answer.
What was he supposed to say? That the image of her pressed against him, the soft exhale against his neck, wouldn't leave his head? That he could still feel the dip of her waist, every nerve on fire, just from a single accidental touch?
No. Unacceptable.
He snapped the call off. Problem solved. Except the problem was still there, coiling in his gut, refusing to let go.
He needed to get out of the goddamn house.
He dragged a hand across his mouth, then punched up a new message to Marisol: "Leaving property for three days. Authority to Marcus. No deviations in staff schedule. Report exceptions immediately."
Her reply was almost instant. "Understood. Will you be reachable?"
"Only for emergencies," he typed, then hesitated. "No unnecessary contact about the Carter hire. Let her operate as briefed."
He hit send before he could change his mind.
Then he dropped into his chair, stared at the blue glare of the screen, and counted down the minutes until he could leave.
***
Emma was still rattled from the accidental collision, but she didn't let it show.
She'd barely had time to register the sheer strength of Daniel's arm snapping around her waist, the wall-hard pressure of his chest, the pure male heat radiating off his body—oh my god. Her mind had gone completely blank.
And then, just as fast, it was over. He'd let go, darted away, like she was on fire and he'd touched a live wire. She could still smell him: spice, cedar, and under that, something sharp, like electricity.
Focus, she ordered herself. You're not here to swoon over a billionaire.
She shook out her sleeves, tried to slow her breathing. Alex was waiting in the lab, sprawled across the workstation, acting like nothing in the universe could surprise him.
"Did he give you the 'change the world or else' speech?" Alex asked without looking up.
Emma gave a half-laugh, dropped her bag by the stool. "Something like that. I think he's mad I'm not following the rules."
"He's always mad," Alex said. But the way he said it made Emma's chest tighten, just for a second. She could hear it, that crack under the sarcasm. She'd seen it a thousand times before.
Emma sat down on a stool and kicked it with the heel of her shoe, rocking side to side like she had all day, all month, to get through to this kid. "Well, let's give him something new to be mad about, shall we?"
Alex smirked, one eyebrow up. "You sure? Most people just want to keep him happy. Or, you know, alive."
She grinned, folded her arms on the table like it was lunch hour in a very weird, very expensive middle school. "You ever think maybe happy and alive are two different things?"
Alex went quiet. He wasn't looking at her anymore. "You're freaking me out," he said, but so low she barely caught it.
Emma shrugged, pulled her tablet out of the bag. "You get used to it."
He eyed her, suspicious. Then, "What now?"
"Now we document the Vesper." She opened the app, started scribbling his design into the workspace. "You want to tell me how you're going to pull off adaptive flight with a six-millimeter core and those cheap actuators?"
Alex gave a half-laugh. "You sound like someone who actually understands this stuff."
"Well, I fake it better than most."
He slid off the stool and yanked open a lower drawer. The inside looked like a bomb-maker's fever dream: wires, batteries, little bags of labeled parts. He slapped a roll of copper tape on the table, then a feather-light servo. "You still think this isn't going to blow up?"
Emma leaned forward. "I think if you get the feedback loop right, you'll only have to evacuate a five-foot radius when you test it."
He laughed. Actually laughed, not just a sarcastic snort. The sound made Emma's hair stand on end. God, he was just a kid. A smart, bruised, impossible kid.
She had no idea if Daniel was going to come storming back in or if he'd disappeared to plot her firing. Maybe both.
But right now, none of it mattered. She was in the zone and that is the only place she needed to be.
