The building was nearly empty.
Only a few lights remained on in the upper floors of Hart Global, casting a golden glow across the glass walls and polished marble floors. Olivia stood by the window in her office, arms folded, staring down at the city lights below.
She should have gone home hours ago.
Instead, she was waiting.
She hated that she was waiting.
The door clicked softly behind her.
Her pulse betrayed her immediately.
"You're still here," Ethan's voice came — calm, deep, controlled.
She didn't turn around. "So are you."
"I'm paid to be."
"And I'm not?"
A faint chuckle left him. She could hear the smile in it.
The sound did dangerous things to her body.
Silence stretched between them, thick and charged. She could feel him there. Not touching her. Not moving. Just… existing in her space like a force of nature she couldn't ignore.
"You shouldn't let him affect you," he said quietly.
She turned slowly.
"Damien doesn't affect me."
Ethan's eyes held hers steadily. "You clenched your fist so hard earlier your knuckles turned white."
Her breath paused.
He noticed everything.
"I don't need you analyzing me," she said coolly.
"No," he agreed softly, stepping closer. "You just need someone standing beside you."
The words were gentle.
But the meaning behind them wasn't.
Her chest tightened.
Why did he say things like that?
Why did he make it so hard to remain cold?
"Mr. Cole," she began firmly, but her voice lost strength when he stopped only a step away from her.
Close enough to feel his warmth.
Close enough to smell his cologne.
Close enough that the air between them felt like fire.
"This," she said quietly, gesturing between them, "is temporary."
"Is it?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Then why are you shaking?"
Her breath caught.
She hadn't realized she was.
His hand lifted slowly — deliberately — giving her time to pull away.
She didn't.
His fingers brushed her wrist.
Soft.
Controlled.
Dominant without force.
Her pulse jumped wildly beneath his touch.
"You don't like feeling vulnerable," he murmured.
"I don't like losing control."
He stepped even closer.
"And I don't like pretending we don't want each other."
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
The tension snapped.
She grabbed his tie.
Pulled him down.
The kiss wasn't gentle.
It wasn't cautious.
It was weeks of restraint breaking at once.
His hands immediately found her waist, firm and steady, guiding — not overpowering. He lifted her effortlessly onto the edge of her desk, just like before, but slower this time.
More deliberate.
More aware.
"You're going to regret this," she whispered against his lips.
"No," he said softly. "You are."
His mouth traced along her jaw, down her neck, slow enough to make her breath turn uneven. Her fingers gripped his shoulders, nails pressing lightly through the fabric of his shirt.
For a woman who commanded boardrooms and billion-dollar decisions, she felt dangerously undone.
"You don't get to control everything," he murmured against her skin.
She tilted her head back slightly.
"I control you."
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Do you?"
His hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. Not rushed. Not reckless.
Intentional.
Every movement measured.
Every touch asking without words.
She could stop this.
She knew she could.
But she didn't want to.
Because with him—
She didn't have to be the ice queen.
She didn't have to be strong.
She didn't have to carry the world alone.
The moment deepened — heated, intense, intimate without crossing into recklessness. Her breath grew uneven. His grip tightened slightly, protective as much as possessive.
And then—
A sharp knock on the door.
They froze.
Reality crashing back in.
Olivia's breathing was still uneven when Ethan stepped back first, adjusting his tie calmly, as if nothing had happened.
Control.
Professionalism.
Dominance.
All back in place.
"Yes?" she called, voice slightly hoarse.
The door opened.
A woman stepped in.
Tall. Stylish. Perfectly dressed.
And smiling like she belonged there.
"Ethan," the woman said sweetly.
Olivia's blood ran cold.
Ethan stiffened.
"Vanessa."
Vanessa Hale.
The woman who left him when his business failed.
The woman who suddenly found interest again once he stepped into Hart Global.
Her eyes flicked to Olivia — calculating, assessing.
"Oh," Vanessa smiled lightly. "I didn't realize you were… busy."
Olivia slid off the desk gracefully, regaining her composure instantly.
Ice queen mode activated.
"We were finishing work," she said smoothly.
Vanessa's gaze lingered on Ethan's slightly loosened tie.
"Of course you were."
The implication was sharp.
Venom hidden beneath sweetness.
Ethan stepped slightly in front of Olivia — subtle, protective.
"What are you doing here?" he asked flatly.
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"I heard you were working for Hart Global. I thought I'd congratulate you."
Her eyes flicked again to Olivia.
"And maybe remind you… who you belong to."
The room temperature dropped.
Olivia's expression didn't change.
But inside?
Rage flickered.
No one claimed what she wanted.
Not Damien.
Not Vanessa.
And especially not over Ethan.
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"I don't belong to anyone."
Vanessa's smile faltered for a second.
"We'll see about that," she said softly.
And just like Damien earlier—
She left with a warning hanging in the air.
Silence followed.
Thick.
Dangerous.
Olivia folded her arms slowly.
"She seems… attached."
Ethan exhaled quietly. "She likes power."
"And now you have proximity to it."
Their eyes met.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Jealousy.
Possession.
Desire.
"She doesn't matter," he said firmly.
Olivia tilted her head slightly.
"Make sure she doesn't."
For the first time, her voice wasn't cold.
It was territorial.
And that's when Ethan realized—
The ice queen wasn't just tempted.
She was falling.