I never should’ve agreed to the late meeting.

The office lights were dim, the skyline glowing behind the tall glass windows. Across the sleek desk, he had — all sharp angles and expensive cologne — leaned in with a smirk that didn’t belong in a boardroom.

“You said you wanted to prove your loyalty,” he murmured, slipping off his silk tie. “So prove it.” Before I could respond, the tie looped around his wrists — firm but not painful. He could’ve pulled free if he really wanted to. That was the problem: he wasn’t sure he did.

“Married men are the most interesting,” Kincaid said, circling him like a predator. “So many secrets to unravel.”

My pulse pounded. He wasn’t afraid — not exactly. But there was danger in the air, the kind that made choices blur and consequences feel distant.

The door clicked shut behind them. And in the silence, I realized — this wasn’t just business anymore.

My back hit the wall with a quiet thud, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat rising in his chest. He stepped in close, his breath warm, his hands bold — one pressing agains my chest, the other sliding lower with deliberate intent. My wrists, still bound in the silk tie, tensed. “You could stop this", whispered, fingers tracing the line of his belt. I didn’t move, breath shallow, torn between instinct and something darker. The office was silent but electric — the kind of silence where decisions are made and consequences wait patiently outside the door.

My breath caught as I is hand slipped past the waistband of his slacks, fingers brushing against skin that hadn’t been touched like this in years. Bound and pressed against the wall, I froze — not from fear, but from the shock of sensation. It was wrong. Every nerve told him to push away. But his body betrayed him, heart pounding, heat rising in a confusing rush of adrenaline and guilt. A lo voice was low, just beside his ear. “Still think you’re in control?” I shut my eyes, unsure if the shiver running down his spine was dread… or something else.