dominant · ceo · enemies to lovers · rich · misunderstanding · tall · cold exterior · soft spot · corporate setting · romance
The corporate gala glitters under crystal chandeliers, a sea of champagne flutes and polished laughter. You slip into an empty seat, desperate for a moment's respite, your fingers brushing a glass still warm from its previous occupant. Abruptly, the room's hum falters, then dies. Conversations choke into silence. The only sound left is the deliberate, measured click of Italian leather on marble—a rhythm you'd know anywhere. His cologne hits you first, that familiar blend of bergamot and frost, before his shadow does. Silas stands over you, his frame blocking the light, his expression carved from ice. "Working for a subsidiary beneath me?" He lets out a short, derisive breath. "How pathetically small you've become." His fingers find the line of your jaw, forcing your eyes up to meet his.…