"Good morning," Makai says with a bright, almost too-early cheerfulness that feels like a beam of sunlight piercing through the grey haze of my Monday morning. It's 7 a.m., and honestly, no one could make me happy at this hour—not even if they handed me the keys to the latest Mercedes.
"Good morning," I groan, dragging the words out as if to stretch every last second of this reluctant awakening. "You got sunshine in your pockets or something?"
His laugh rings down the hallway, warm and effortless, waking the silence like a sudden summer breeze. It makes me cringe inwardly. I don't have the energy for this kind of positivity right now—not today.
Worst when my mind is spinning from what Tylon shared last night. The bottle of wine was drained by the time I decided to crawl into bed. With a full mind, nonetheless.
His lips curl into a small smile as if he senses my misery, "Join me for breakfast inside?"
I straighten my back and furrow my eyebrows in disbelief. "I thought you didn't eat breakfast."
That was a lie. Honestly, I suspect it's less about skipping meals and more about not trusting anyone else to bring him food. If I were him, I probably wouldn't either. Still, he drinks the coffee I bring him.
How careful.
I take a moment to study his face, scanning for any trace of the anger I last saw there. The memory of his outrage still stings, sharp and raw. I'm not holding it against him, but I silently hope never to see that side of him again.
"Maybe I'm making an exception for you," he says, amusement flickering in his eyes. And suddenly it's becoming hard to see the man Tylon keeps describing. Although I know how well someone can wear a mask.
"So you assumed I eat breakfast?" I ask, narrowing my eyes like a cat sizing up a mouse. His smile drops, and he turns away, clearly trying to hide a flash of something—annoyance?
Vulnerability? Either way, forget what I said about happiness at this hour. Someone here has a low tolerance for nonsense, and the thought makes me smile like a Cheshire cat.
He unlocks the door and holds it open with a slow, deliberate gesture, his gaze locking onto mine with silent command. I rise from my seat, tugging my dress down in an awkward attempt to look less dishevelled, less exposed.
Before I can settle myself, Makai grabs my arm and gently but firmly shoves me inside. He steps in after me, closing the door with a heavy thud that seals us off from the world outside.
He turns the lock with a deliberate click, then faces me again. "I don't like it when you backtalk everything I say."
"Well, I don't like that you don't know personal space," I fire back, crossing my arms over my chest like a shield. His slow, measured steps toward me send a shiver racing down my spine, the heat in my skin intensifying with each movement.
In all my years of toying with these men, never have I ever felt this type of attraction. My skin tingles with desire, and although it feels good, I know it's dangerous.
He stops just inches from my face, looking down at me with intensity. "How so?" he asks, his cool minty breath brushing against my cheeks. Taking one final step, he closes the last centimetres between us.
His proximity makes my lungs beg for air, but I refuse to give in.
Instead, I reach up and grab his collar, seizing the opportunity. His lips hover millimetres from mine. "How does it feel when I try to intimidate you… sexually?"
"Good," he whispers, his hand sliding up my thigh, fingers lightly tracing the hem of my dress like a tease. "You're playing a dangerous game, Ms. Kinsley."
I release his collar and snatch his tie. "A game you started, Mr. Huxley." One sharp pull yanks his mouth onto mine. The scent of him—an intoxicating mix of cologne and something uniquely his own floods my senses, making me feel weightless. I part my lips, inviting him deeper, but he pulls away.
He steps back, avoiding my gaze for several long seconds. When he finally looks at me, his lips part as if to say something, but he swallows the words. Instead, he gestures toward his desk. "Let's have breakfast, shall we?"
Shock twists into shame, which coils tight around my chest like a noose. I barely manage a nod before following him to his desk. This is a first. And it's safe to say it feels like shit.
He avoids eye contact as he silently unpacks the takeout. I'm not sure if it's the shame or something else that pushes me to speak. "I'm sorry about what I did just now." I lower my eyes, fingers nervously playing with the ring on my finger. "It won't happen again."
My voice is merely a whisper, as I try to fix the error of what just happened. I should've suspected that this was too soon.
He clears his throat. "If you hadn't done it, I would've. So don't apologize. I'm the one who should say sorry for crossing a boundary and for how I acted the other day. It was out of line."
Finally, he meets my eyes. Despite the calm in his voice, I see the tension tightening his jaw like a wire. I offer him a small, forgiving smile. "I was the one out of line. You were right—I should know when to shut my mouth."
He chuckles softly. "I'm not apologising for what I said. I apologise for how I said it. It was insulting."
"Well, in that case," I laugh, feeling my chest loosen a little but not much to breathe freely, "apology accepted."
"Good. Because I felt horrible. Getting up and leaving like that—"
"Don't worry about it. I understand. Losing that deal was a big blow. Anyone would be pissed," I say quickly, before he can finish.
He swallows hard. "Never justify a man's bad behaviour. They should be able to control the way they act."
I blink at him. Wow. That shouldn't surprise me, but it does.
Makai pushes a box toward me filled with waffles smothered in cream and berries. The whipped cream has melted into a glossy swirl, pooling like liquid snow, making my stomach ache for it. "I didn't know what to get you. But everyone eats waffles, right?" he asks, a hopeful tilt to his voice.
"I do enjoy a good waffle. Thank you." I grab the plastic fork and knife to start digging in. Makai got a fish sandwich, which he's stripping of its wrapper before taking a small bite. He also bought me a fruit smoothie and grabbed a bottle of orange juice for himself.
"It's my pleasure. I just wanted to make up for how our last outing ended and treat you to breakfast," he responds, after chewing the bite of his sandwich, completely ignoring the fact that he rejected me earlier.
"I appreciate that," I say, before bringing a bite of waffle to my mouth. At least he can own up to his mistakes. But ignoring what just happened is beyond me.
I chew uncomfortably, swallowing carefully to avoid choking on the tension that's starting to cloak my throat and pollute the room like thick smoke. I can't begin to process how embarrassing this is. I should've left when I had the chance.
His phone rings, slicing through the silence like a sharp blade, offering us both a sense of relief. Makai grabs it swiftly, pushing his chair back before standing, " Please excuse me."
He turns around, facing the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sprawling cityscape beyond fades into a soft blur beneath a wide, cloud-streaked sky.
"Makai Huxley speaking," he says, putting the phone to his ear. "Yes, I instructed my assistant to postpone the meeting until next week."
His free hand slips into his pocket, and he nods unconsciously. "Yes, I'm aware the stakes are high. But since I lost the deal, we can't move forward."
"I've already informed my father. He's not pleased. But I assured him Sherwood will come back to us, all it takes is a golden offer." Makai begins pacing slowly, hand sliding through his curls before slipping into his pocket once again.
I watch him silently, admiration stirring in my chest. Mentally, I punch myself. I shouldn't enjoy watching him be such a good businessman. But the steady rhythm of his movements, the calm control in his voice despite the weight of the situation—it's almost intoxicating.
Yet the harsh reminder hits like a cold breeze on bare skin. I'm working against him. I'm supposed to bring him down; therefore, I can't fall for him. I have to find another way to get access because he won't let himself lose control. Not yet.
And for me, it's beginning to get apparent that this mission won't be as effortless.