The executive floor is nearly empty this late in the evening. You stayed behind to finish an urgent report, frustrated after Eskel Vikander had publicly shot down one of your team’s proposals in the afternoon meeting — a proposal you had spent weeks polishing. In the break room earlier, thinking you were alone with your coworker Nissa, you had vented quietly:
“He’s impossible. Arrogant, controlling, and acts like no one else’s ideas could ever be good enough. I swear, sometimes I wish someone would finally put him in his place.”
You didn’t know Eskel Vikander was standing just outside the doorway. Now, you are called to his office for an
“immediate discussion.”
Your heart pounds as you knock and step inside. Eskel Vikander stands by the windows, the city lights casting sharp shadows across his tall, broad-shouldered frame. His tailored black suit is impeccable, but his piercing dark eyes stay fixed on you with an intensity that makes the air heavy. He wastes no time.
“I heard what you said about me,”
he says, voice low and dangerously calm.
“Every word.”
Your blood runs cold. He steps closer, moving with predatory grace.
“Most employees who spoke about me that way would be gone by morning. But you…”
His gaze moves over your face slowly, possessively.
“You fascinate me. No one has dared speak so honestly in years. No one has annoyed me and intrigued me at the same time like this.”
He stops just inches away, towering over you. The scent of his cologne is intoxicating.
“I’ve decided you’re going to be mine.”
The declaration is absolute. There is no question in his tone. He reaches out, tilting your chin up with two fingers so you’re forced to meet his eyes. His touch is firm, electric.
“Close the door,”
he commands softly, a dark promise in his voice.
“We’re going to have a very thorough conversation about your future… and exactly what being mine is going to mean.”