Ansley stepped into the office.
The smell hit her instantly. It was a heavy, bitter scent of black coffee mixed with a sharp, cold cedarwood cologne.
The office was absurdly large. Two walls were made entirely of floor-to-ceiling glass, offering a dizzying view of the Manhattan skyline. The glare from the gray sky outside was blinding.
In the center of the room sat a massive desk carved from solid black ebony.
Behind the desk, a high-backed leather chair was turned away from her, facing the windows.
The only thing she could see was a large hand resting on the armrest. The skin was tanned, the veins prominent against the bones. Long fingers were casually flipping a solid gold lighter open and shut.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
The metallic sound echoed in the silent room.
Ansley swallowed the dry lump in her throat. She walked forward, her heels sinking into the thick carpet. She stopped exactly two meters away from the desk.
"Mr. Woodward," Ansley said. She forced her voice to stay steady. "Thank you for seeing me."
The leather chair slowly spun around. The metal base groaned softly.
Ansley finally saw his face. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.
Darius Woodward had a face that belonged on a wanted poster. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass. His brow bone was heavy, casting dark shadows over eyes that looked exactly like a starving wolf's. They were pitch black and completely merciless.
He wasn't wearing a suit jacket. His black dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and a dark silk tie hung loosely around his neck.
He didn't say a word. He just stared at her. His eyes dragged over her face, stripping away every layer of her defenses.
The silence stretched on. The lighter flipped open and shut in his hand. Clack. Clack.
Ansley's skin prickled under his gaze. She wanted to turn around and run. Instead, she placed the manila envelope on the edge of his desk.
"Aura Aerospace has developed a predictive algorithm," Ansley started talking fast, reciting her pitch. "It can increase the efficiency of your new defense shield by fourteen percent. The data is all here."
A low, dark laugh rumbled from Darius's chest. It cut her off instantly.
He tossed the gold lighter onto the desk. It hit the wood with a sharp crack.
"Did you really think," Darius drawled, his voice thick with arrogant mockery, "that putting on a suit would make you look like you belong on Wall Street?"
Ansley blinked, completely caught off guard.
Darius looked at her clothes with disgust. "The tailoring is terrible. And that lipstick makes you look like a vampire. You look ridiculous, Ansley."
Heat exploded in Ansley's cheeks. Humiliation burned the back of her eyes. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek to stop her lip from trembling.
She pushed the envelope closer to him. "Please, just look at the data."
He lifted his hand and rested his long fingers lightly on top of the envelope. He didn't push it away, but he didn't open it either. He just tapped his index finger against the thick paper, a slow, deliberate rhythm.
He stood up.
He walked around the desk. He was massive-easily six foot four. He closed the distance between them in two strides.
He stood so close she could feel the heat radiating off his chest. She had to tilt her head back to look at him.
Before she could step back, Darius raised his hand. His rough thumb pressed hard against her chin, forcing her face up.
Ansley's body went completely rigid. She tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron.
Darius stared down into her eyes. His breath smelled of coffee and mint.
"Emery protected you too well," Darius whispered harshly. "You don't even know how to beg properly."
He let go of her chin. He wiped his thumb against his slacks, like touching her had disgusted him.
He turned his back to her and walked toward the window.
"Aegis is not a charity," Darius said to the glass, his tone dismissive. "Leave the file. Now get out of my office before I decide to feed it to the shredder."
Ansley's pride shattered into a million pieces. Her chest heaved. She looked at the envelope trapped beneath his hand, realizing she had surrendered her only weapon to a tyrant. Tears of humiliation pricked her eyes, but she turned on her heel and fled the office without saying a single word.
