Page 8 of Fated by Fire (Dragonblood Dynasty #1)

Chapter 8

E lena

Shit. What am I going to do?

I’m sprawled on my couch, still in yesterday’s clothes, nursing a cup of coffee that’s long gone cold. My phone buzzes on the coffee table, and Mara’s name flashes on the screen.

I pick it up, halfway dreading this conversation. “Hey.”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, Lennie,” Mara snaps. “You owe me an explanation. What the hell happened last night? One minute, you’re tongue-wrestling your boss; the next, you’re bolting out of the bar like Cinderella after the stroke of midnight. And refusing to take my calls. Did you at least leave a glass slipper behind?”

I groan, rubbing my temples. “Mara, I couldn’t speak to you about it because I don’t know what came over me. I just… acted. And now I’m screwed. Caleb called me into his office this morning.”

“Ooooh, boss-man wants a one-on-one?” She’s practically purring now, her previous funk dissipating as quickly as it arrived. “Do you think he’s going to fire you or propose?”

“Neither,” I mutter. “He probably wants to know why I was snooping in the basement.”

“Or maybe he wants to finish what you started,” she says, her voice dripping with mischief. “I mean, you kissed him. In front of people. That’s bold, girl.”

“It was stupid,” I correct her, sitting up and setting the coffee mug on the table. “And now I have to come up with a plausible reason for why I was in that office. Any ideas?”

“Oh, I’ve got ideas,” she says. “You could tell him you were looking for the secret lair where they keep the lizard people. Or maybe you were trying to find evidence that Craven Industries is actually a front for the Illuminati. Ooh! Or you could say you were investigating whether they’re hoarding all the world’s chocolate to create a monopoly.”

I groan again. “Mara, I need something believable.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “Tell him you were lost. Or that you were delivering files. Or that you were following a trail of breadcrumbs left by a secret society of corporate spies. That last one’s semi-believable.”

“Sure,” I say dryly. “Because that won’t make me sound like a raving lunatic.”

“Look, Lennie, you’re a PI. You’re good at lying. Just… wing it. And if he brings up the kiss, own it. Tell him you were swept away by his brooding good looks. That’ll throw him off.”

“Or it’ll make things worse,” I grumble, glancing at the clock. It’s already 7 am, and I need to get ready. “I’ll figure it out. Thanks, Mara.”

“Good luck, babe. And hey—if things go south, just remember: there’s always witness protection.”

I hang up, shaking my head. Mara’s advice is about as useful as a screen door on a submarine, but at least she’s trying. I drag myself to the shower, the scalding water doing little to calm my nerves. By the time I’m dressed—back in my corporate spywear of a pencil skirt and blouse—I’ve half-convinced myself that I can handle this.

Yeah, right.

The commute to Craven Towers feels longer than usual, every step weighed down by dread and anticipation. The elevator ride to Caleb’s office is even worse, the hum of machinery doing nothing to drown out the pounding of my heart.

When the doors open, his PA is waiting for me; impeccably dressed, hair twisted into a sleek knot, her expression is unreadable. “Mr. Craven is expecting you,” she says, gesturing to the double doors behind her.

I nod, swallowing hard, and step inside. Caleb’s office is just as imposing as I imagined—glass walls, sleek furniture, and the faint scent of something smoky and masculine. He’s standing by the window, his back to me, and for a moment, I’m frozen in place.

The sight of him, even from behind, stirs something deep within me—something I can’t quite figure out. His broad shoulders and the confident set of his stance give off a magnetic energy that makes my chest constrict. It’s more than just his physicality; there’s an unspoken power in the way he carries himself, and it unnerves me in a way I didn’t expect. I feel oddly off-balance, as though just being near him has shifted something inside me, and I can’t tear my eyes away.

“Jessica,” he says, turning to face me. His jawline is sharp, etched with a severity that commands attention, and his eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. The faint shadow of stubble along his jaw adds to the raw masculinity that radiates from him, making the air around him feel heavier, more charged. His broad frame fills the space, the fabric of his shirt pulling taut across his chest as he takes a deliberate step closer. I fight the instinctive urge to step back, a mix of awe and unease knotting in my stomach.

Out of your league, girl…

I don’t know where the thought comes from, but it makes my cheeks flame.

“Mr. Craven,” I half croak.

His voice is low, a hint of danger woven into every syllable. “Close the door.”

I do as I’m told, the click of the latch sounding unnaturally loud in the silence. Caleb doesn’t move, his eyes locked on mine, and I feel like a mouse caught in the gaze of a swooping hawk.

I clear my throat. “You wanted to see me?” I ask, my voice a little steadier.

He steps closer still, his movements deliberate, and my heart leaps into my throat. “I did. We need to talk about last night.”

“The kiss,” I blurt, then immediately regret it. “I’m so sorry! I never meant—”

His lips twitch, almost a smile, but it’s gone so fast I might have imagined it. “No. The basement.”

Oh.

Shit.

I swallow hard, my mind racing. “Right. The basement. Like I said, I was just delivering files. Greg asked me to drop them off.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “That office is unoccupied.”

“I thought someone would be there,” I say, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “I must’ve gotten the wrong room. I’m still new here, and I’m trying to find my way around… sir.” I tack on the last with a sheepish smile.

He looms over me, his presence overwhelming, and I grit my teeth to stop myself from retreating.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“You’re a terrible liar, Jessica.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I… I…”

Shit. Shit. Shit!

I’ve always been able to think on my feet. But this man makes my head spin.

“You’ve been lying since the moment you walked through those doors,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “What are you up to?”

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. My mind is a blank slate, every excuse I’d rehearsed evaporating like smoke.

Caleb reaches out, his hand grazing my arm, and the contact sends a jolt of electricity through me. “Tell me the truth,” he says softly.

“I…” My voice cracks, and I try again. “I’m just a junior archivist, Mr. Craven. Seriously. I got lost.”

His eyes darken, but he doesn’t pull away. He’s towering over me, tall, radiating a strange heat that seems to soak into my pores.

My God, he’s tall.

“Lost…?” His eyes are on my lips. I swallow hard.

“Yes,” I whisper, struggling desperately to find breath.

For a moment, neither of us speaks. The air between us seems to crackle as if the room itself is waiting for something. His eyes lock onto mine, dark and smoldering, and I can almost feel the weight of his gaze like fingertips, warm and insistent, sliding over my skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

My pulse quickens, a wild, erratic rhythm that echoes in my ears, and I’m acutely aware of every inch of space between us—close enough to feel the heat of his body, yet too far to sate the sudden, inexplicable ache that blooms deep within me.

What the hell is happening?

This isn’t me. I don’t lose my mind around men. But this man…

Without warning, he moves. It’s swift, deliberate, and inescapable. One moment, there’s distance, and the next, there’s none. His hand cups the back of my neck, his fingers tangling in my hair, and his lips crash into mine with a hunger that steals my breath. The kiss is nothing like the one in the bar—no softness, no hesitation, only fire and need. It’s raw, intense, and utterly consuming, as if he’s determined to brand every part of me with this moment.

His other hand grips my waist, fingers digging into the curve of my hip, and he pulls me flush against him, erasing any remaining space between us. I gasp into his mouth, the sound swallowed by the heat of his kiss, my breath leaving me in a rush. My body reacts on instinct, arching into him, seeking more until I feel like I’m drowning.

My hands move to his hair, tangling in the silky strands. It’s thick, softer than I’d expected; I’d imagined it would be like the rest of him… hard. I pull him closer, deeper, as if I can merge us into one. His lips are firm, demanding, and when my mouth parts against his, he surges in, claiming it with a fervor that leaves me dizzy.

The world around us dissolves, blending into a blur of sensation. There’s only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, the way he fills every one of my senses. His scent envelops me, warm and masculine, with a hint of something earthy that makes my head swim. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of something sweet and sharp that I can’t get enough of. His breath mingles with mine, hot and ragged, and I can feel the rapid thud of his heart where his chest presses against mine.

My skin seems to ignite wherever he touches me, sparks skittering along my nerves, setting me alight. His hand on my waist slides lower, pulling me even closer, and I can feel the hard line of his body against mine, a silent promise of more. My legs tremble, barely able to hold me upright, and I cling to him, anchoring myself in the storm of sensations he’s unleashed.

The kiss deepens, grows hungrier, more desperate until I’m not sure where he ends, and I begin. It’s terrifying, this loss of control, this surrender to something I can’t name, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. Every fiber of my being is alive, on fire, yearning for more of him, more of this. The intensity of it aches, a sweet, unbearable pressure that I never want to let go of.

The sound of the door opening snaps me back to reality, and I jerk away, my chest heaving. Dorian stands in the doorway, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, his tone light but edged with something… sharper.

Caleb steps back abruptly, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burn with a heat that makes my knees weak.

“No,” he rasps. “We were just finishing.”

I stare at him, my head whirling, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

“Just finishing, huh?” Dorian drawls, his tone dripping with mockery. “A little private moment interrupted. How rude of me.”

Caleb’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing, his eyes locked on me. I feel the weight of his stare and the heat of Dorian’s sarcasm pressing in on me. My face burns, and I struggle to keep my composure.

“I should go,” I mutter, my voice hoarse. My mind is racing, the memory of the kiss still lingering but now overshadowed by the growing unease of being exposed. I can’t shake the unsettling feeling that I’ve just landed squarely in Caleb’s crosshairs—and Dorian’s too, for that matter.

As I brush past Dorian, he smirks, clearly enjoying the discomfort he’s caused. “Do try to keep it professional next time, Jessica. Or at least less… obvious.”

I don’t respond. My head is still spinning as I make my hasty exit. The kiss, the tension with Caleb, Dorian’s mocking words—it’s overwhelming. And beneath it all, the gnawing worry that my real reason for being here is on the verge of being uncovered.

I quicken my pace, desperate to put distance between myself and the storm I’ve stumbled into.