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“Maybe that’s what your father taught you, but this is a new era. I’m asking you again, what kind of CEO do you want to be? Not what the board expects but what you want.” I tilt my head, searching his face. “Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can show them you’re capable of being human?”

That gets the response I wanted. Sebastian’s eyes snap to mine with a sudden, sharp heat. “You think I’m acting, Isabella? You think this is all just a performance?”

“Isn’t it?” I shrug, my tone hovering between dismissal and disbelief, pushing him exactly where I need him to go.

“I am sincere,” he says, stepping closer until he towers over me. I don’t move an inch. “I do actually care about what happens to this company. I care about the people here.”

I let a small, cynical smile touch my lips. If I can make him feel something real in this room, I can get it on camera. This is the moment I get to see what Sebastian is truly made of.

“Sincere,” I repeat. “That’s a lovely word. But in my experience, men in your position aren't in the business of caring. You’re in the business of being in power and making money.”

We’re so close I can smell his smoky cologne.

Sebastian’s breath hitches. The air between us is taut and dangerous. For the first time since our first night, the billionaire mask isn’t just cracked. It’s gone. There’s something primal in its place.

“I never said I was a saint,” he says.

“Good, because I wouldn’t know what to do with a saint.” I reach out, my fingers grazing the silk of his tie, trailing up to the exposed skin of his throat. His pulse hammers beneath my fingertips. “But don’t lie to me. Don’t play-act at morality when we’re alone. You want the power. And right now—” I lean in, standing on my toes until my lips are inches from his ear. “Right now, the only thing you want is the one thing you can’t buy.”

“And what is that?” he asks, his voice a gravelly rasp. His control is slipping.

“A distraction,” I breathe. “A way to feel something that isn't a spreadsheet or a legal brief, a way to escape the crushing weight of your father’s expectations. You want to prove you’re human? Prove to me you’re capable of an instinct that isn’t about profit. Show me you have the guts to break.”

I pull back just enough to look him in the eye, challenging him. “But you can't, can you? Because at the end of the day, you’re just like every other man in a corner office. You want to take. You want to possess, damn the consequences.”

“What the fuck are you doing, Isabella?” Sebastian stands stiff, his breathing heavy.

I let my hands slide from his throat to his chest, feeling the heavy thud of his heart. I press my body against his in a slow, deliberate provocation.

“You want to lose yourself in me, so you don’t have to think about the fact that you might be exactly the monster the headlines say you are. Isn’t that right?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer with words. His hands find my waist, his grip tight and possessive as he pulls me flush against him. He looks at me with a desperate hunger, like a drowning man who’s finally found a life raft. I can see the war going on inside of him: the shark his father raised him to be versus the man I’m certain exists beneath the surface, the man we need if we have any hope of saving these companies.

I reach up, my fingers tangling in his hair. “Show me there’s a man in there who wants more than what he’s been told to do. Show me you're actually human.”

When his mouth crushes against mine, it isn’t gentle. It’s a multibillion-dollar legacy traded for a moment of very human oblivion. His hands are frantic and demanding. I know he wants to be more than a machine, wants to be more than a copy of the men who came before him.

Sebastian breathes in deeply, his touch scorching. He presses his pelvis against me, letting me feel how hard he is. I know I should pull away. I’ve proven my point, and that should be the end of it, except I’ve been caught in my own trap, and I don’t think I could stop, even if I wanted to.

Which I don’t.

“We said no office,” I whisper against his mouth.

His hands go still on my hips. He pulls back just far enough to look at me, breathing hard, and the man from the rooftop is right there in his eyes. “I know. Tell me to stop, and I stop.”

I should. We made that rule for a reason. We made it two days ago.

I pull him back down to me.

His hands are at the buttons of my blouse, almost tearing at them in his rush to get to my bare skin.

“Jesus,” he sighs, slipping one breast out of its lacy cup, cradling the heavy weight of it in his large palm. “I can’t get enough of these.”

I take a breath to reply but release it as a moaned gasp instead when his mouth takes in my rock-hard nipple. I’m grateful his arm is still wrapped around my waist, because suddenly my legs feel like jelly. I let my head fall back and close my eyes, taking in every incredible sensation of Sebastian’s tongue flicking and circling, the warmth of his mouth and breath, the way his scent wraps around me and draws me into its smoky haze, the delicious ache of his strong grip digging into my side.

He finishes with one breast, only to move on to the other. My legs are completely useless, and he eases me back until I sink against the table. I tangle my fingers in his hair, running my nails along his scalp and down the back of his neck.

“Did you lock the door?” I manage.