The room waited.
And I stood there, frozen, my heart pounding, my mind screaming two words over and over again, as the weight of his presence settled fully into place. They were…
Oh… and… Fuck!
I didn’t realize I’d stopped breathing until the chair scraped the floor at the head of the table when Oblivion stood.
The movement drew every eye in the room, but it was the way his attention narrowed that made my pulse jump. As if everything else had ceased to exist for him in that instant.
He didn’t rush.
He didn’t hesitate.
He simply stepped away from the table and began walking toward me, unhurried and assured. The measured pace of someone who had never once questioned whether the space ahead of him would part on command.
It did.
No one spoke as he crossed the room. Conversations died mid-thought, bodies stilled, and I was painfully aware of how small the distance between us suddenly felt. My skin prickled as though the air itself crackled like static. I was also forced to keep myself in place, despite the urge to flee riding me hard.
Then he stopped in front of me, towering over my frame with his arrogant composure that I couldn’t help but be shamefully attracted to. I also had the absurd urge to look around. To check whether anyone else was seeing this, whether this was happening to everyone or just me.
Then he extended his hand.
The gesture was impeccably polite, entirely professional, and somehow far more unsettling than anything he had done in his club. His fingers were thick, long, and strong looking, with his palm open in silent expectation. His gaze fixed on my face with that same quiet certainty I’d seen the night before.
I hesitated for half a heartbeat.
Then I took it.
The moment our skin touched, something coiled sharply through me, a pulse of recognition that had no business existing. A heat sliding up my arm and settling low in my chest, just like the night before. It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t gentle either. A fleeting sense of alignment that left me unsteady. And in response, my fingers curled instinctively around his before I could stop myself.
His thumb shifted, just slightly, pressing against the inside of my wrist as if wanting to familiarize himself with my pulse. As if tethering himself to my heartbeat or something equally as profound.
I sucked in a shuddering breath.
“Miss Shadowmere,” he said again, his voice low and even, pitched perfectly for the room while somehow still sounding as though it was meant only for me.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he added with the barest hint of a smirk, one dripping with hidden meaning.
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out at first. Until a curse muttered behind me broke the spell. My boss stepped forward, close enough that I felt his hands settle on my shoulders firmly, as if this was a familiar gesture meant to ground me.
“I apologize,” Banner said quickly, a tight laugh threaded through his words.
“She’s had a stressful few days, long hours and all that. Be assured, she is very dedicated to this account, aren’t you, Eliza?”
Oblivion’s grip on my hand didn’t change.
But the temperature in the room did.
I felt it before I understood it. A sudden chill crept along my spine as his gaze slowly shifted from my face to where Banner’s hands rested on me. The expression he wore didn’t just darken…it was scolding.
Mr. Banner faltered quickly, feeling it for himself as his hands withdrew. As if he’d touched something hot, his smile slipping as he took an unconscious step back. He cleared his throat, visibly shaken, and busied himself straightening his jacket as though embarrassed by his own reaction. But Oblivion still looked like he wanted to crush every bone in his hands just for touching me. The memory of him doing exactly that last night crept back in, clinging to me like a horror story that wouldn’t let go. So, I finally found my voice and with it the hope of preventing bloodshed.
“Mr. O… Minos, it’s nice to meet you,” I said, and it was enough to snap the killing cord as his gaze lowered back to mine.
As if I had clicked my fingers in front of his face, a single brow of his rose in silent challenge in this new game of make-believe we were playing.
“I’ll, erm… well, I’ll let you get settled, Eliza,” my boss said, forcing an easy tone as he tried to slice through the tension humming between us, something no one else in the room could have possibly understood. I nodded in response as Mr. Banner took his seat. Which also meant it was time for Oblivion to finally release my hand, the moment beginning to look strange, like a hug between practical strangers that lingered a beat too long.
