Page 10

I step into the boardroom at Empire City Estates, my eyes scanning the room. The familiar scent of polished wood and fresh coffee lingers in the air as I make my way to the head of the table. The CEO, along with Liam Russel and a few other top officials, are already seated, waiting for the meeting to begin. Russel stands when he sees me, eager to share the results of the latest marketing campaign.

“Mr. Sharov,” Russel starts, his tone enthusiastic. “The campaign was an enormous success. We’ve generated more leads in this past week than we did in the entire month prior. Miss Jewels’s strategy really hit the mark.”

I nod, pleased. “Good. I want to see the numbers.”

As Russel pulls up a report on the screen, I glance around the room. “Where is Miss Jewels?” I ask. It’s strange, considering this success is largely her doing. I expected her to be here, front and center, taking the credit.

Russel looks a bit flustered. “She should be here any minute.”

Right on cue, the door opens and Jennifer steps in, her face pale and her movements slower than usual. She’s apologizing even before she fully enters the room.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” she mutters, her voice lacking its usual confidence. “I… I haven’t been feeling well.”

I watch her closely as she takes her seat, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the way she holds her stomach. She looks… fragile. Sick.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice harder than I intended. “Why are you late?”

Jennifer meets my eyes, clearly uncomfortable. “I think I’ve got food poisoning,” she admits, looking down at her hands. “I’ve been nauseous for days.”

Nausea. The word rings in my ears, and for some reason, it feels like more than just food poisoning. Something about her demeanor makes me think there’s more to this story. My jaw clenches, and I can’t stop the flood of thoughts rushing through my mind. She looks vulnerable, and a part of me—one I’m not used to—wants to take care of her. I want to ask more, to dig in to why she’s really unwell, but this isn’t the time.

The meeting continues, but my attention keeps drifting back to her. She tries to keep up with the discussion, but it’s obvious that she’s struggling. Her face is even paler under the harsh lights, and every few minutes, she presses her hand against her stomach as if to steady herself.

It’s unlike me to care about someone being sick, much less an employee. I’m known for running a tight ship, no excuses allowed. This… this is different. Jennifer is different.

As Russel goes over the campaign details, I can’t shake the strange feeling that I need to do something. I don’t know why, but watching her like this makes me restless.

Finally, when Russel finishes his presentation, I glance at Jennifer, then back at the others in the room. “Miss Jewels,” I say, my voice firm but careful, “take the next week off. Rest and recover. You’re no good to the team like this.”

The room falls into a brief silence. Russel looks like he’s just seen a ghost. My reputation precedes me—normally, I wouldn’t tolerate anyone being late, much less showing up sick. But the thought of her pushing herself through work in this condition rubs me the wrong way.

Jennifer’s eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised. “I… I can still work—”

“I’m not asking,” I cut her off, my tone leaving no room for argument. “Take the week off. That’s an order.”

There’s a brief murmur among the others at the table. Russel’s brows furrow, probably wondering why I’m being so lenient. I don’t care. This is my company, and I’ll do whatever the hell I want. What I want is for Jennifer to get better. The faster she’s back on her feet, the faster we can continue with this campaign.

Jennifer nods slowly, clearly conflicted. “Alright. Thank you.”

The meeting continues. I barely hear what Russel is saying. His voice is background noise as I keep glancing at Jennifer. She’s sitting across from me, trying to stay composed, but I can tell she’s struggling. The way she grips the edge of the table, her knuckles white, the subtle furrow in her brow—she’s unwell. I’ve never cared about something like this before, but with her, I do.

Russel clears his throat, pulling me out of my thoughts. “As I was saying, Timur… we’re projecting another ten percent increase by the end of the quarter if we continue along this trajectory.”

I blink, realizing I missed everything he just said. “Repeat that,” I demand, my tone sharp. Russel shifts uncomfortably, his eyes flicking nervously around the room.

“Of course,” he stammers, “I said that if the campaign keeps performing at this level, we’re looking at a significant uptick in revenue—possibly a ten percent increase by the end of the quarter.”

I nod, pretending like I’m focused, but my mind immediately drifts back to Jennifer. I don’t like that I’m this distracted. I’m known for my focus, for being ruthless in business. Today, I can’t shake her from my thoughts. It’s pissing me off, yet… I can’t stop it either.

The meeting drags on for another half hour, but I barely process any of it. My attention keeps drifting back to Jennifer—her face, her slight fidgeting, the way her gaze keeps flicking toward the door as if she’s waiting for an excuse to leave. The others are oblivious, but I notice everything.

Eventually, the meeting wraps up. One by one, the executives file out, but as Jennifer begins to stand, I stop her. “Miss Jewels,” I say, my voice smooth but firm, “stay.”

She hesitates, eyes widening slightly, but she nods and sits back down. Russel glances at me as he walks past, probably wondering why I’m keeping her behind, but he doesn’t question it. Once the door closes and we’re alone, the room feels different. Quieter. More intense.

I walk around the table, moving to stand in front of her, close enough that I can see the slight rise and fall of her chest. She looks up at me, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her eyes. I like that—how I can unsettle her so easily.

“You’re doing well here,” I say, my voice low. “You’ve earned yourself quite the reputation in such a short time.”

Jennifer swallows, her gaze flickering between my face and the floor. “Thank you,” she says quietly, her voice softer than usual.

I take a step closer, invading her personal space, and I notice the way her breath hitches slightly. “There’s an event happening next week,” I continue. “A gala, hosted by Sharov Group. Only top officials and partners are invited.” I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in. “I want you there.”

Her eyes widen, clearly surprised. “Me?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” I say, my gaze unwavering. “You’ve earned a spot.”

Jennifer shifts in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. “I’m just an intern,” she protests, though there’s no real conviction in her voice.

I lean down, resting my hands on the edge of the table, bringing my face closer to hers. “You’ve proven yourself more than just an intern. I expect to see you there.”

She looks up at me, her lips slightly parted as if she wants to say something, but the words don’t come. The tension between us is palpable, the air thick with something unspoken. She’s trying to keep it professional, but I can see the flush creeping up her neck, the way she shifts slightly in her chair.

After a moment, she nods. “Alright,” she says, her voice quieter now. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” I say, standing upright again, satisfied with her response. “I look forward to it.”

Jennifer stands, gathering her things quickly as if she needs to escape the room. I watch her, every movement deliberate, controlled as she walks to the door. Just before she leaves, she hesitates, turning slightly to glance back at me.

For a brief second, our eyes lock again, and I feel that pull—something raw, something I haven’t felt in a long time. She quickly looks away, leaving without another word, the door closing softly behind her.

I stand there for a moment, the room feeling colder without her in it. This woman is different from the others. She challenges me, makes me feel things I’m not used to feeling. She doesn’t fall at my feet like they all do. She left me once, and now she’s keeping her distance, but it only makes me want her more.

As I leave the meeting room, my thoughts immediately drift back to Jennifer. That pale face, those tired eyes… she’s sick, but even then, she looked so damn tempting. I make my way down to the parking garage, slipping into the driver’s seat of my black SUV. I can feel the chill of the leather through my suit jacket, but my body is anything but cold. My pulse quickens the more I think about her.

Jennifer. The way she looked at me in that meeting, trying to keep her composure, trying to remain professional… but I could see through her. I always can. She thinks she can keep me at arm’s length, but every time I’m near her, the electricity in the air is undeniable.

I grip the steering wheel, remembering how she felt under my hands that night—soft, warm, delicate. She was different from the women I’ve been with. It’s not just her innocence, though that was part of it. No, it’s something deeper. She made me want more. The way she gasped for breath as I kissed her neck, how her body responded to my every touch… the memory alone sends a wave of heat through me. I let out a slow breath, my eyes closing for a moment as I picture her, back in my bed where she belongs.

I can’t shake the image of her. I want her again. I want to see that flushed face, hear those soft gasps as I push her over the edge. No matter how much I tell myself that I don’t care, that it was just a one-night thing, it’s bullshit. The truth is, she’s stuck in my head, and it’s driving me insane.

With a growl of frustration, I pull out my phone and dial Oleg. It rings twice before he picks up.

“Boss,” Oleg greets, his voice gruff but steady.

“I need you to do something for me,” I say, keeping my voice calm even though my blood is still running hot. “I want you to dig into someone’s background for me. Jennifer Jewels. She’s one of the interns here at Empire City Estates.”

There’s a slight pause on the other end. Oleg is used to my requests, but he knows when I’m serious about something, and he can hear it in my voice.

“Got it. You want the usual?” he asks.

“No,” I say, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. “I want everything. Every detail you can find. I’ve stayed out of her personal life so far, but now I want to know who she really is.”

There’s another pause, and I can practically hear Oleg’s mind turning over. He doesn’t ask questions, but he knows this is about more than just curiosity. I don’t chase after women, but Jennifer… she’s different.

“Consider it done,” Oleg says, his voice carrying the weight of a promise.

“Good,” I reply before hanging up.

I lean back in the seat, staring through the windshield at the empty garage. The truth is, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t play games. I take what I want, when I want it, but with Jennifer, I feel like I’m caught in some twisted push and pull. She’s running from me, and that only makes me want her more. There’s something about her I can’t let go of, something that gnaws at me. I need to know everything—what she’s hiding, why she’s trying to push me away.

As I sit there, I realize I’ve never felt this kind of obsession before. It’s dangerous, but at the same time, it’s exhilarating. The need to have her again, to claim her completely, is becoming impossible to ignore.

I smirk, my grip on the wheel loosening slightly as my thoughts turn darker, more primal. I’ll find out everything about her, every little secret. And when I do, there will be no more running. She’ll be mine.

I check the time, knowing I’ll have Oleg’s full report soon enough. For now, I focus on the memory of Jennifer—the softness of her lips, the way she tasted, her body beneath mine, responding to every touch. I can still hear her gasping my name, still feel her hands clutching at me like she didn’t want to let go.

This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

I start the car, the engine roaring to life as I grip the wheel once more. I’ll see her again, at the gala. She won’t be able to hide then. When I see her, I’ll make sure she remembers exactly what it felt like to be in my arms.