Chapter Six

STILL FLASHBACKS FROM THE PAST.

It's still strange, seeing both our names carved into steel and glass.

Vollenweider–Moreaux Maritime Holdings AG.

A mouthful. A merger. A message to the world that war is overwe've joined forces. The rebranding was swift. Strategic. Every trace of Aquila and Vollenweider was scrubbed clean from the headquarters and terminals. Even the elevator keycards were redesigned. A clean slate. The illusion of unity.

Six months after our wedding, the ink dried and our companies legally fused into one. Publicly, it was a triumph. Privately, it was just another layer of tethering. I already lived in Zürich, had been running Aquila from the city center for years. I wasn't hard to reach.

But Niklas made sure I was closer. He didn't want us in separate towers, separate teams, separate rhythms. He didn't ask. He made the decision and handed it to me like a gift.

"You'll be working out of Prime Tower now, Mia. It makes sense. Let's not pretend it's about anything else."

Now I stand in the glass-walled office on the 40th floor, espresso cooling beside me, my iPad filled with the Port Saïd projections. Lake Zürich sprawls quietly in the distance. The skyline glitterscold, perfect, calculated.

Just like him. I sense him before I hear him. The way the air shifts when he enters a room. That slow, unhurried confidence that walks ahead of him like scent.

"I reviewed the numbers," Niklas says as the door hisses shut behind him. "You padded in six percent."

I don't turn around yet. I'm not ready to let him see what his voice does to me. "Because they'll undercut in the second round. They always do."

He steps closer. "You're already anticipating their counter?"

I finally turn around to face him and walk toward my desk. "I anticipated it last night."

His eyes don't move from mine. I can feel the shift between us, sudden and heavy. It stretches across the room like a silent dare. My voice is steady, but my body isn't. My pulse is climbing. My legs feel like glass under silk.

Niklas takes one step forward. Then another. He stops right in front of me, eyes dropping to my mouth, then lower. My hips are resting against the desk, the edge pressing into the back of my thighs. I haven't moved. I don't need to.

He reaches out slowly, his fingers brushing my wrist. That one light touch makes my stomach clench. His hand slides higher. My breath catches.

"I couldn't stop thinking about last nights event," he murmurs. His voice is low. Rough around the edges. He touches the fabric at my waist. "The way you looked in that red strapless dress. The way you walked away after dinner like I hadn't been hard for you all evening."

His fingers unfasten the button at the side of my skirt. It loosens and I don't stop him. He slides his palm across my stomach which is now bare skin and I feel the heat of his touch like fire licking through me. His hand moves lower, under the hem. His other hand goes to the back of my neck, guiding my mouth toward his. I'm already leaning in. Our lips brush. And then he kisses me slowly but possessively. His tongue moves against mine like he's trying to draw something out of me, something I've never said out loud. I grip the edge of the desk. I feel the tension in my thighs. The ache between them. My breasts are pressed against his chest. My nipples are hard. His body is solid against me.

He lifts me up and sets me on the desk. His hands push my thighs apart, his hips between them. He groans softly when he feels how ready I am. I'm already pulsing, needing more pressure, more friction. He slides my underwear down my legs...slowly, dragging the lace past my knees, my ankles. His lips are still on mine. He swallows the sound I make when his fingers find me again, slipping between the heat. His touch is perfect. Confident. My body arches toward it. I'm already losing control, and he hasn't even~

He pushes in. My fingers dig into his shoulders. I gasp and then a moan rips out from somewhere deep in my throat. He moves inside me, deliberate and deep. Each thrust sends waves through my body...tight, hot, unrelenting.

His grip on my hips tightens. He kisses my throat, my jaw, the hollow behind my ear. I tilt my head, needing his mouth, needing more.

"Do you feel that?" he pants. "That's what you do to me, Mia."

I can't speak. I'm too close. I'm clenching around him, every nerve lit up, my body moving in rhythm with his. He leans forward, hands braced beside my shoulders, eyes locked on mine. "Come for me."

My head falls back. I do. I feel the climax tear through me, from the soles of my feet to the back of my throat. My breath shudders. I cry out into his shoulder.

He follows a heartbeat later, hips grinding against mine, his groan deep and broken as he lets go. When it's over, he stays there for a moment, forehead resting against mine.

We're both still breathing hard.

I slowly open my eyes. His lips are close. His hands haven't moved.

"We're going to be late," I whisper.

He brushes a kiss to my cheek, slow and warm.

"I'll have the driver wait."