STORY EXCERPT

Ronan

“Someone like me,” Chance clarifies. “That’s what you’ve been implying, isn’t it? That I’m the security risk? That I’ve somehow compromised Lazarus for personal gain?”

“We haven’t accused you of anything,” Diana protests weakly.

“Not directly. That would require actual evidence.” Chance’s smile is sharp enough to draw blood. “But let me put your minds at ease by telling you exactly who did breach our systems.”

He brings up another screen, this one showing access logs with specific timestamps highlighted. “This breach originated from credentials belonging to Colby Whitley. Former partner to Mr. Beresford, founder of Acclivous Solutions, and the man who recruited me before I joined Lazarus.”

The boardroom erupts in startled murmurs. Colby’s reputation within the committee he himself demanded be set up is sterling. His betrayal isn’t something anyone would easily believe.

“That’s a serious accusation,” Philip Swift says carefully.

“It’s not an accusation; it’s a fact.” Chance’s voice hardens. “One that I discovered and immediately reported to Mr. Beresford, despite my previous association with Whitley. You can verify the timeline through the security logs.”

I watch him systematically dismantle their concerns, his presentation as precise as surgery. My cock stirs with interest, inappropriate for a boardroom but entirely in keeping with how Chance affects me. I wonder what the ethics committee would think about the ethics of taking him over the table in front of them.

Chance would let me, too. He might curse and tell me to fuck myself, but he’s never once safe-worded out. Sometimes I think he has no limits, delightful thing that he is. Watching him so confident, coming into his power, and still knowing he will let me take him apart into a broken sobbing mess is incredibly sexy.

“The breach was designed to be detected,” Chance continues, highlighting specific patterns in the data, and dragging my attention back to the case at hand. “Specifically, it was designed for me to detect it. Colby left digital breadcrumbs that only someone with my background would recognize.”

He closes his portfolio with a decisive snap and surveys the room, his expression hardening. “So, to summarize: I am not a security risk. I am not compromising Mr. Beresford’s judgment. And I am, in fact, one of the few people equipped to identify the actual threat facing this company.”

The silence that follows is thick with discomfort. These people came armed for a character assassination and found themselves outmatched, outmaneuvered by the very person they sought to diminish.

Chance gathers his materials unhurriedly, letting the tension build. Then he delivers the coup de grâce, his voice dropping to an intimate register that somehow makes his words more devastating.

“But let’s be honest, shall we? This is about what I do in bed. The problem isn’t that your favorite untouchable monster has an operative; it’s that he’s been fucking his best new operative and at least some of you are homophobic dicks about it. But believe me, the entire world is safer when Mr. Beresford isn’t bored.”

Diana Sanderson inhales sharply. Jeremy Hart’s face flushes an alarming shade of red. Phillip Swift looks like he’s swallowed something poisonous. The rest of the committee, the ones not brave enough to have piped up a single word, look terrified.

I nearly laugh aloud. My beautiful, vicious boy.

Chance straightens his jacket and walks toward the door, every movement controlled and graceful. He pauses at the threshold, glancing back at the stunned board members. “I’ll leave you to continue your discussion. I have actual work to do.”

The door closes behind him with a quiet click.

I want to applaud, or to go after him and tell him what I have been waiting to say until the right moment, that I am going to marry him and make his position in my life unassailable. When he owns half my stocks, no one will dare challenge him. But I need the moment to be right, or Chance will take it as buying his loyalty and throw it back in my face like the brat he is.

ADULT EXCERPT

Chance

“That was quite a performance in there,” he says, voice pitched low enough that it seems to vibrate directly against my skin. “You made them look like amateurs.”

“They are amateurs,” I reply, trying for nonchalance despite the fact that I’m pinned to a wall by six feet two inches of aroused tech mogul. “They came after me thinking I was just your pretty boy toy.”

“And you showed them exactly how dangerous a toy can be in the right hands.” His fingers trace the edge of my collar beneath my shirt, a possessive gesture that sends shivers racing down my spine. “My hands.”

Without warning, he grabs my wrist and starts walking, practically dragging me down the hallway toward his private sitting room adjacent to the executive offices. I stumble after him, half-aroused and half-alarmed by the intensity radiating from him.

“Is the meeting finished?”

“I decided it was finished.” He unlocks the sitting room door and pulls me inside. “The committee was to placate Colby in the first place. Besides, you’re more important.”

That thrills me to the bone. There was a time when something in me craved Ronan’s contempt, but it’s so much sweeter now to know I have his love, now that I am so deeply in love with him.

The door has barely closed behind us before he’s on me again, his hands everywhere at once, shoving my jacket off my shoulders, yanking my tie loose, fingers working at my belt. I try to reciprocate, reaching for his tie, but he catches both my wrists in one large hand.

“No,” he says simply. “This isn’t about me right now.”

He spins me around and marches me toward the antique mahogany desk that occupies one corner of the room. With a sweep of his arm, he clears the surface of papers and decorative objects, sending them clattering to the floor. The casual display of destructive power shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.

“Hands on the desk,” he commands, already working my trousers down over my hips.

I comply instantly, leaning forward to brace myself on the cool wood surface. Behind me, I hear the soft clink of his own belt being unfastened, the whisper of expensive fabric. My shirt is still on but unbuttoned, hanging open to expose my chest, my torso, my rapidly hardening nipples. My trousers and underwear are now tangled around my ankles, leaving me shamefully exposed.

“Look at you,” Ronan murmurs, one hand trailing down my spine to the curve of my ass. “So fucking perfect. So goddamn loyal.”

His hand leaves my skin for a moment, and I hear the distinctive snap of a bottle cap. Ronan keeps lube, and other things, in his private sitting room. The man is nothing if not prepared.

When his fingers return, they’re slick and cool, circling my entrance with teasing pressure that makes me push back instinctively, seeking more. He chuckles darkly.

“Eager, aren’t we? Did taking apart the committee get you this hot, princess? Did you walk out of that meeting already hard for me, so that everyone could see what a slut you are for me?”

“Yes,” I admit, beyond pride or pretense. “Wanted you to see—wanted to show them—”

“You showed them,” he confirms, pushing one thick finger inside me with agonizing slowness. “You showed everyone exactly who you are and what I possess. My shining star, my brilliant boy, my perfect little whore.”

I groan as he works me open with precision, adding a second finger, then a third, stretching me just enough to burn but not enough to satisfy. My cock hangs heavy between my legs, already leaking onto the expensive carpet below. I should care about that—about the mess, about the potential stains on my shirt, about the fact that we’re fucking in his office sitting room in the middle of a workday. Again. But all I can focus on is the sensation of his fingers inside me and the desperate need for more, for him to stop teasing and give me enough pain to hold on to, to feel real.

If I let him know how desperately I want to orgasm, I’ll be dooming myself to be edged for about a week. Bastard. I am so helplessly in love with him.