And the stickler? She had invoked the relationship clause in her contract with Sanctum. As long as she was meeting with her master, letting him train her in the art of submission, she was prohibited from outside relationships.
I shook my head, leaning back in my chair. Because the truth was maddeningly simple: she had chosen me already, in a way. Just not the version of me she knew in daylight. And damn it if I didn’t want her inbothworlds—the quiet dark where she dropped her guard, and the glass-lined boardroom where she sharpened it.
I logged into my computer and pulled up the code Micah and Mira had been working through. Victor had already weighedin between meetings with prospective new analysts, his notes clipped and efficient, as expected. We’d all been tempted to skip this job fair, but we’d gotten some good talent since we’d started going.
We’d always known Micah was more than an analyst. His instincts ran deeper than his title suggested, the kind you don’t teach and couldn’t fake. Mira, though, had surprised us. Not with brilliance alone, but with her attention to the anomalies most people dismissed as noise. She didn’t just follow patterns. She questioned why they existed in the first place.
The knock came a moment later. I ran my hand through my hair and sighed. I needed a day without interruptions. Just one day I could focus on my business. Not my father’s affairs or the fact my mother refused to move back to Washington, insisting to stay in Arizona alone. She claimed she wasn’t alone, she had plenty of friends, but I hated she was so far away. Ugh. I’d keep working on her.
“Come in,” I said, trying to hide my annoyance, because unless Mira left her desk she’d be the only one who it would be. While she still reminded me that she wasn’t my assistant, I was going to have a hard time letting her go back to the analyst pool. She’d managed to be better than the last several temps I had, and I wasn’t looking forward to hiring a new assistant. Maybe I’d pawn that job off on Ethan. He was better at it than I was.
Mira stepped into my office, tugging at her sleeves. I hadn’t pointed out the bruise on her wrist earlier because the last thing I wanted was to put her on the spot, but at the same time, I’d asked her out, doing just that. I had to admit though her wearing my mark, made me want to do more than push her against the wall and hit my knees. Damn it. I shifted in my seat, knowing my mind needed to be on something else or this was going to get embarrassing.
She stopped short of the chair, not motioning to sit, and stood straight, her hands clasped in front of her as she met my gaze.
“I have a question.”
I waited, cocking my head.
“Why?” she asked. “Why me?”
I fought the smirk that wanted to surface. Had she spent the last hour wondering about this? Why did that please me so much?
There were multiple answers I could give her. Safe, polished ones but I didn’t use any of them.
“You don’t disappear when things get uncomfortable,” I started. “You fight for what you believe in. You don’t look for permission.”
She pursed her lips but didn’t interrupt me.
“You don’t look for status or what people can do to elevate you. You look at me like a person, not a CEO. Not someone to use to get to where you want to go. Not a meal ticket.”
She held my gaze, searching for the angle. Finding none didn’t soften her expression.
“That doesn’t change anything,” she said.
“No,” I agreed. “It doesn’t.”
She turned to leave.
“Mira?” God, I loved how her name felt on my lips. The number of times I’d caught myself in the last few sessions seconds from using it, blowing everything I’d built.
“Yes, Sir?”
I stood, buttoning my jacket as I moved to the front of my desk and leaned against it instead of using it as a shield.
“Let me ask you a question,” I asked before stopping myself. “You asked me why. I gave you my answer. If the person you’re seeing was filling your needs, would you have come and asked me your question? Or are you interested?” I was going to go tohell, there was no doubt about it, but I couldn’t stop the smirk on my lips.
She didn’t answer, just looked at me, not quite believing what she heard.
I shrugged and straightened. “Think about it. That’s all I ask.”
She blinked, but I didn’t miss her breath catching. It was brief but betrayed her all the same, like a line of code that complied despite the syntax.
I knew her master gave her something she needed. Discipline. Boundaries. The kind of shadows that felt chosen.
But I also saw the question forming behind her eyes now, even if she hadn’t said it aloud:
Were the shadows enough… or did she want something more?
