Chapter 2 Prelude To Disaster

• TORI
• I walked in through the front doors without breaking stride.
• Muted conversation buzzed in the background, fingers tapping at keys, phones vibrating on desks. Normal stuff.
• But as soon as I crossed the lobby, everything changed.
• Not loudly. Just... a pause. A ripple. The kind that said everyone knew exactly who I was.
• Conversations dipped. A few heads turned. Eyes flicked my way, then quickly looked elsewhere.
• People noticed. They always did. At six feet three, I never blended in. The tailored suit only sharpened the edges of what lay beneath: power, control, the strength that kept people in line.
• I wasn’t here to impress. Taking control was the only thing that mattered.
• I scanned the room, my eyes sharp, tracking every subtle movement. Every energy shift hit me like a pulse under the surface.
• The elevator chimed. I stepped inside and hit the button for the top floor.
• The elevator doors were almost shut when she slipped in, quick and quiet.
• She held a tray full of coffee, balancing it like her life depended on it, and pressed herself into the back corner without a word.
• Hair thrown up in a messy bun. No eye contact. Baggy clothes that didn’t belong in this building.
• She didn’t glance up, didn’t acknowledge me. Just stared at the floor like the whole elevator might swallow her whole.
• Definitely not one of the usual polished types I’m used to.
• Everything about her said one thing: don’t notice me. Which, of course, made her impossible to ignore.
• My attention lingered. The way she tried to disappear into herself felt too intentional. Unlike my other employees, she didn’t try to engage.
• There’s a mystery in her retreat.
• The elevator climbed, and I felt her eyes track upward. From my shoes to my legs, lingering at my chest, then my shoulders. Finally, they met mine.
• I lifted a brow, irritated. My lips pressed into a thin line.
• Really? She’s checking me out like I’m some damn statue on display?
• The second our eyes met, she gasped.
• Wide amber eyes. Beautiful. Sharp. And full of panic.
• Color hit her cheeks, and she looked away fast.
• The doors opened, and she was out, moving like she’d been holding her breath the entire ride.
• Damn. Those eyes.
• There was something in them. Not just panic. Something that caught and held.
• A twist pulled low in my gut.
• By the time I reached my office, I’d almost shaken the elevator moment. Almost.
• A knock at the door snapped my attention back.
• “Come in,” I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.
• The door opened.
• Her.
• She stepped inside, holding a single cup of coffee. Then she stopped. Froze.
• Her eyes met mine. They widened for just a second before she looked down, fast. Too fast.
• She didn’t know. Not until now.
• Recognition. Shock. She hadn’t realized who I was.
• She set the lone cup on my desk without a word. Petite, maybe five feet three, she moved like she wanted to disappear.
• I looked up and saw her standing there. My focus locked on her.
• "Is sneaking in and out without a word how you conduct yourself here?" My voice cut through the silence like a blade.
• “When you come into my office, you speak. Name and purpose.”
• She flinched, eyes going wide for a beat before she caught herself and masked it.
• “Good morning,” she said, barely above a whisper. "I brought your coffee."
• She stiffened as I stepped closer. The space between us charged, tightening like a thread.
• I didn’t move, just stood there, letting the silence stretch. She could feel it. The weight of me in the room.
• Her breath caught, sharp and sudden.
• Not fear. No, this was something else... a pull.
• She feels it too.
• She met my stare head-on, refusing to cower. Bold. Defiant. Measured. She wasn’t afraid of me. At least, not in the way she should be. Like she’d faced men like me before.
• Interesting.
• Then, as if realizing what she was doing, her gaze dropped to her feet, but not easily. Tension tightened in her frame, a silent war between instinct and submission.
• She stood still, head down, but something in her body resisted. As if she had to force herself to shrink.
• Why?
• "Look at me when I talk to you," I commanded, my voice rough.
• She did. And for a split second, my mask slipped.
• Something in her eyes held me there.
• I shut it down before she could see it, forcing my expression back to steel. The moment had happened, and I had a feeling she noticed.
• A musical note pendant glinted at her throat. An orange diamond. Too expensive for someone in her position.
• She was a contradiction.
• What am I missing?
• She adjusted her collar, as if sensing my scrutiny.
• "What's your name?" I demanded.
• "Tori." Barely above a whisper.
• "Your full name." Impatience flared. I wanted to hear her say it.
• She swallowed hard, her voice catching. "Victoria Valencia."
• I let the name settle, watching for any reaction.
• A shadow of something crossed her face, too quick to catch. A crack in her composure.
• Noted.
• "Good girl." The words slipped out before I could stop them.
• Her reaction was instant. Fire flashed through her amber eyes, deepening to molten gold. The unspoken challenge burned between us.
• A smirk tugged at my lips.
• That struck a nerve.
• She has a temper. I filed it away for later.
• Testing limits was second nature to me. It exposed weaknesses, revealed who people were beneath the surface. It worked in business and life. And it was working now.
• I leaned in, one hand pressed to the wall beside her. The space between us disappeared.
• "You have something to say to me?" My voice stayed low, steady. Every word tested her.
• Push back, little fighter.
• Her breath quickened, but she held my gaze. No flinching. No retreat.
• The air thickened, heavy with something unspoken.
• "Well?" I pressed, watching the war play out behind her eyes.
• She let out a slow breath, then forced a smile that didn’t come close to her eyes.
• “No,” she said, dragging the word out just enough to make a point.
• Then, after a beat, she added, all sugar and bite, “Sir.”
• A slow breath left me, amusement flickering to life.
• She's got claws.
• She turned to leave. Then I heard it. Two words, muttered under her breath.
• "Pinche pendejo," she muttered.
• "What did you say?" My voice came low, edged with warning.
• She turned back, eyes wide, the picture of innocence. "I said, have a good day."
• Liar.
• She’d called me a fucking asshole.
• I spoke Spanish. She didn’t know that.
• I held her gaze, letting the silence pull tighter, inch by inch. Waiting to see if she’d break first.
• She didn’t.
• She's playing a game.
• The realization settled in slowly, curling through me like a challenge.
• Fine. Let’s play.
• I let the silence breathe a little longer before speaking.
• “Oh, and one more thing.”
• She paused, then turned. Eyes cautious. Curious, but not letting her guard drop.
• “From now on, you bring me my coffee first.”
• Her lips parted, like a reply was coming, but it never did. She shut her mouth, pressed it into a tight line, and held whatever she was thinking behind her teeth.
• No protest. No snark. Just a sharp nod before she turned and walked out.
• The door shut behind her with more force than it needed.
• Yeah. I’d be watching her.
• A slow smirk pulled at the edge of my mouth as I leaned back, arms folding behind my head. Finally settled.
• She has no idea what she has just started.