Lookingat the screen, he studies the pink highlights marring his perfect gray world.Hetraces a line of text with his finger.
"Youcolor-code chaos," he murmurs.
"Itmakes the patterns visible,"Iexplain. "Grayhides things.Colorexposes them."
Hisgaze drops to my mouth.Theintense focus sears right through my skin.
"You'rechaos,Mia," he says quietly. "Walking, talking chaos in a pink cardigan."
"Isthat a complaint?"
"No."Hisvoice drops an octave. "It'san observation.Myworld is static.Predictable.Youwalked in here and turned the gravity off."
Mybreath hitches.
"Gravityis overrated,"Iwhisper.
Reachingout, he closes the distance between us.Iknow he’s going to touch me.Icrave the bruise of his fingers against my skin.Iwant this terrifying man to put his hands on me.
Hisarm brushes mine, sliding past my shoulder.Anticipatingthe tap of the 'Enter' key,Ifreeze.
Hedoesn't move.
Hishand stops dead in the air.Theheavy silence stretches between us, fragile as glass.
Eliaspivots, his massive frame caging me against the back of the swivel chair, his thighs bracketing mine soI’mtrapped between the steel of the desk and the heat of his body.Hislarge hand grips my jaw, tilting my head up.Histhumb presses into the soft skin beneath my ear, mapping my frantic pulse.
"Gravityis completely gone," he rasps, right against my mouth.
Thenhe crushes his lips to mine, a raw, primal raid that strips the air from my lungs.Igasp, opening for him as his thick tongue sweeps inside to take total ownership of my mouth, tasting of black coffee and absolute, dark control.Myhands tangle in his shirt, dragging him closer until his engorged cock is a thick, leaden ridge pressing hot and demanding against my stomach.Hegroans, the deep, territorial vibration traveling from his chest straight to my pussy,making my core clench, instantly slick with the desperate need to be filled.
Hisfingers twist into my messy bun.Anchoringmy head in place allows him to devour my mouth deeper.Hetakes everything, demanding a surrenderIgive without a single thought.Thespreadsheet, the cartel, and the missing thousands vanish entirely into the searing heat of his mouth.
Hefinally tears his lips away.Aharsh breath wracks his chest as he rests his forehead against mine.Hisgray eyes are pitch black with pure, unfettered hunger.
"Finishthe trace," he commands, his voice a gravelly ruin. "Findout where the mirror signal terminates.Iwant a physical address."
Releasingmy jaw, he steps back.Thesudden cold air rushing over my heated skin makes me gasp.
"AndMia?" he adds.
"Yeah?"Ibreathe, my lips swollen and tingling.
"Usethe pink highlighter.Ilike it."
Heturns, stalking back toward the metal shelves.
Staringat his broad back, my entire body hums with electricity.Ipick up the pen.Thebright neon line cuts straight through the gray ledger.
4
ELIAS
Thelow hum of the server banks is the only sound in theVault.Aconstant, electric vibration usually helps me think, keeping the numbers in straight, orderly rows in my head.Rightnow, the noise mimics a drill boring directly into my skull.Wehave been locked in this steel box for twenty-four hours.Theair recyclers are working overtime, scrubbing the carbon dioxide, but they cannot scrubMia.
Sittingcross-legged on the floor,Miais surrounded by a fortress of my ledgers and her spreadsheets.Thechaotic sea of white pages and neon sticky notes should make my skin crawl.Oddly, it doesn’t.Icount her breaths again, feeding my sickness.Inhalingtakes three counts, and exhaling takes exactly three more.
Fabricrustles against the concrete floor as she shifts.Thenoise echoes through the silence, dragging my eyes away from the monitor whereIam supposed to be building a firewall against theCostabreach.Darksmudges bruise the skin under her eyes.Herhoney-blonde hair, which looked entirely professional whenIfirstsaw her standing on the highway,falls out of its clip in awild halo.Wreckedand beautiful, she belongs right here in myVault, buried among my secrets.
