Ch. 4 - A Study in Control 

MILES

I got an invitation to a brunch a few weeks ago. I never fancied events like this; they're always a meetup for gossip and networking, both of which I don't need. I arrive at Harrison Country Club, the green grass filled with authority figures, most holding a glass of champagne in their hands, flower arrangements everywhere you turn, tables lined with linen, and murmurs of wealth, every hand covered with a flashy Rolex and every neck clothed with a pearl. Time is one thing I've always cherished, and I don't think being here is something that favours me and my company, but the PR rep did say I had to be here; I might as well make myself comfortable. I get myself a cup of coffee and find a place for myself at an empty table, which later fills up with networkers. The people at the table keep dropping pitches for business ideas, none of which are worthy of me pursuing.

I assume they're still pitching ideas until I hear a name that shouldn't be coming out of their mouths, they mention her again. They're talking about the scandal, whispers go around the table, and smug looks on their faces. A loud voice makes a joke about betting against her company. I associate the face with the voice, and it's Rupert Sterling. "I'd give her 6months before the bank claims her little empire." The voice says. "Hell, I would even bet against her." My hands curl under the table – the image of my knuckles clashing into Rupert's jaw fills my head. This is the second time I've thought of violence in a public place, and they've both been about her. I lean back into my chair with a smile ghost on my lips. "Funny." I say quietly enough, making them all lean in, "You've always been good at betting against the wrong people.

The laughing dies. Rupert's hand stops stirring the champagne

I take a slow sip of coffee. They all watch me, waiting for more. I give them nothing. Power is in the silence.

The ride back to the city was quiet, but my mind wasn't. She was a headline and headlines make or mar business, and in her case, I'd say mar. I don't have an obligation to care... but I found I did. Her ruin wouldn't just amuse my rivals but would also empower them. And I've never been one to give my enemies more weapons to fight with. I walk into the office with confidence, which makes legs go weak and whispers fly around. I stride into the private elevator, which leads to my office. As I enter the room, motion sensor lights brighten the space. I take my seat on the chair behind the business table made for me. I pour myself a drink, then stretch to pick up the glass. Instead, my hands pick up the phone. "Send Crane up." I say to my assistant.

Grayham Crane arrived five minutes later, briefcase in hand, expression precise as always. He's been the family lawyer for far too long to know when I'm calling for standard paperwork or not.

"You said it was urgent." he says as he takes a seat across my desk. I ask him how he's been, and finally ask him to draft a contract.

"Contract? For what?" He questions

"Marriage." I say

"Marriage? To whom?" He asks 

"Yes, marriage. To Kaitlyn Rhodes." I explain with my lip curving upwards, "Marriage of convenience. Legal. Enforceable."

"That's... unconventional. Even for you." He says, curiosity painting his voice.

I take a sip of my drink, letting the silence last for longer. "Unconventional works when conventional has failed. I want protection. For her company. For mine. This arrangement will shield us both."

"You mean shield her?" he says, dragging the word 'her', "Because right now, no one is threatening Howard & Co. They're threatening Rhodes designs."

"Her company isn't yours to protect." he continues with brows furrowed slightly.

I lean into my seat, "Everything in this city is mine to protect or destroy. Which role I play depends on the terms." I explain

"And what terms do you want?" he says with his eyes on me, but pen on his notepad.

"Two years minimum. Financial coverage written in. Confidentiality airtight. An exit clause for appearances' sake, but nothing she or I can wiggle out of easily." I answer

Crane writes swiftly, coming to a pause as I conclude "Forgive me" he says hesitantly "but this doesn't sound like business anymore, it sounds... somewhat personal."

I walk out of the confinement of my desk to the windows, which have a great view of the city I live in. "Everything is business." I say evenly as I turn back to Mr. Crane, and he looks worried but also intrigued before he finally says, "You know she might refuse, right?" raising his brows in question. "She won't." I reply as I pour myself another drink and drown it down. Mr. Crane makes his way out of the room with nothing else to say. As he leaves, I look down at my desk and see a file named: Kaitlyn Rhodes; Background check, Liam must've dropped it on my desk, he wouldn't have dropped it here without purpose.

The first few pages are predictable: Rhodes Designs financials, a clean tax record, a few glossy unaware pictures of her, which I suppose were taken from charity events and gala appearances, her in high heels and dresses with her hair sometimes in a high pony and sometimes let to fall freely. Even in the pictures, she plays the role of an untouchable woman way too well. 

But tucked a few pages after are notes I don't expect: her mother, Elaine Rhodes. A widow. A woman described by this file as "accommodating", "traditional", "a homemaker", words that just explain that she spent most of her life bending to her late husband's rules. The picture is clear, while Elaine spent her life as 'a devoted and dependent wife', Kaitlyn has decided to go the other way. No wonder she moves like the world owes her nothing. She made herself that way. 

Personal vulnerabilities. Not weaknesses but truths that explain.

I close the file before I read too much. This isn't about sentiment, it's about strategy. I picture her, not in a boardroom or in the headlines, but in a house where she sees her mother fold herself small, and she refuses to inherit that submission.

My hands rest on the folder, heavy

She won't refuse. She can't afford to.

Ch. 5 - The Warning

KAITLYN 

The cafe was too cheery for the conversation Aria wanted to have.

 Morning light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the marble tables and polished chrome fixtures in a warm gold. The cafe filled with laughs from nearby conversation, the clinking of mugs, and the smell of cinnamon and fresh-brewed coffee. Everyone else is having a good morning. And then there's me sitting across her best friend, wishing she hadn't agreed to meet up.

"You can't keep on doing this, Kait." 

Aria's voice cut through a few conversations, loud enough to turn heads. Well, she's never been the one to cover up her word with bubble wrap to give a soft landing. I pull up my cup half-filled with coffee to my lips, taking a small sip before placing it back on the table. "Doing what?"

"Pretending you can fix everything alone." she says, leaning forward with her eyes dark. "This scandal isn't just a rise-to-face scheme anymore; people are talking, taking it seriously. It's blood in the water, and the sharks can smell it. If you won't let someone help, it's going to eat Rhodes Designs up." She says sharply.

I force a smile at her. Reassuring. "I've always fixed things alone."

She returns the smile, "That's not strength, that's what we call stubbornness." I know she wants the best for me, but I just can't. Receiving help is exactly like asking for a favour, you're going to have to pay back tenfold. 

My phone buzzes against the table. I pick it up, and it's an email from my assistant. The word 'URGENT' is the subject. 

I flipped it face down. "It's not stubbornness if it works."

Tessa groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "You're impossible. I swear, one of these days-"

"One of these days what?" I asked lightly, tilting my head. "You'll be right? Don't hold your breath."

Her silence this time wasn't sharp, just sad. That was worse. I hated that look in her eye, the one that said she could see through the armor I wore, even when the rest of the world couldn't. But I let the silence linger, because I didn't know what else to say.

A few minutes later, I got my things, went back to the apartment to change into a more work-appropriate outfit. By noon, I was back at the Rhodes Designs office. The energy inside was off. It was quiet, the type of quiet that spoke volumes. The tension insde the building was hushed but present. My assistant, Olivia stood outside my glass-walled office waiting to be let in. Hanging my coat, I let out the words "Come in" to her, and she did. 

"Lancaster pulled out." She said, without giving me the chance to turn to her.

"What?" I asked,  the fear echoing through my voice.

"The Lancasters." her hands twisting in her tablet. "They pulled their investments." She clarified.

"Alright, you may go." I say, stopping the pain from tearing more into my heart. As she left, I turned the glass room opaque. Tears streaming down my face, the thoughts of everything I've built crashing down act as an initiator for more tears. My hands grip the edge of the table as a means to calm myself down. 

No one can see me like this. Not one person. 

By the setting of the sun, I was back in my apartment. The estate echoes sounds of the wind, the little chatters, and cars driving into their garage.

The gala was tonight, another charity event, I was a usual attender of things like this and I had to continue because the world didn't need another reason to think they broke me. I needed to be seen, more this night than any other.

I set a bottle of champagne, set it on my vanity table. Hand pick a wine glass from my dining area pouring myself a drink from the champagne bottle. I can't get through this night without being a little bit tipsy.

Foundation, peerfectly blended with my skin

Eyeshadow like amor, sharp winged liner, lashes thick and long enough to cast shadows.

A bold red lipstick for me to hide my fears behind.

Every brush stroke and dab of powder building walls was a layer of protection added.

On the dresser, a velvet box sits open, which houses a diamond necklace passed from my mother to me. I reach for it, then stop. The image of the necklace hung around her neck like a leash which my father used to control her. She wore it  to dinners, where she kept quiet and to parties, where my father spoke for her. A symbol of submission. It sounds as a warning in my ear. 

I close the box, and tuck it away someplce in my closet.

Instead, I reach for a statement piece, a sleek gold choker, that sets itself on my lower colarbone. It pairs well with my dress. A royal blue dress, long enough to cause a train, witha slit that stops at my mid thigh. It's cut to skim curves and commad attention without having to beg for it. My heels click against the hardwood, every sound it makes sharp and precise.  The image that stares back at me through the mirror, looks unrecognizable, the sleekness of the hair, the caramel which disguises as skin to the color of the dress which copiments my eyes. 

My black car pulls up to the front of the hotel hosting the gala, the red carpet welcomes me momments before I walk on it. The flashes of lights from multiple cameras fall on the car, the papparazi already waiting.

As the driver opens the door, the flashes hit my face. My name as a chorus sound with different voices.

"Kaitlyn, are the rumors true"

"Is Rhodes Design actually going under"

"How were you invited to this event"

The question hit me like bullets. My figers dig deep into my skin, but my face was serene, I'll never let them know that they get to me. A practiced smile falls from my lips, my chin upwards with my chest forward. The cameras don't stop. I walk on the carpet with confidence so high, my world seems normal. Every step deliberate. Controlled. 

They could whisper. The could talk behind my back. They could speculate.

But I'll still walk through those doors like the world belonged to me.

Ch. 6 - The Titan's Shadow

MILES

I walk through the red carpet, paparazzi asking questions as usual, followed by the clicking of cameras. I don't pay them any attention. I step through the doors that lead into the gala, heads turning to my direction, hushed chatter as I walk past. The gala is probably worth enough to fund whatever charity they're holding it for, the crystal chandeliers, champagne towers, and laughter that echo wealth.

Moments later, a shadow forms when a woman walks into the gala with camera lights chasing her from outside into the ballroom. As she walks more into the events, the doors shut, and more heads turn in her direction. Lights from inside the hall shine brightly on her, revealing her face. It's Kaitlyn Rhodes. She commands attention with each step she takes. Whispers fly around, not letting the noise fill her head, she continues with her walk, which allows her slender legs under the cover of the dress she has on, to peek out into the world. She looks breathtaking. The blue dress, which hugs her curves; the swerve of her hip from her waist is massive, and the hourglass shape of her body showing more than ever. The gold choker she has on brings out the sweetheart neckline of her dress. The waiter passes by her, she picks up a glass of champagne, and does a cheers gesture in my direction, indicating she caught me staring at her, skimming through every inch of her body with my eyes, wondering how it would taste under my lips. Thoughts of her pinned against a wall with my lips exploring her body pass through my head before I even get the chance to think about it. I imagine her red lipstick on other places, but her lips. "This proposal is just business." I remind myself, trying not to let physical attraction cloud my judgement. Men shift in their seats, their eyes lowered with lust, mouths telling otherwise as they talk about the scandal. Women envious of her as they roll their eyes failing to keep the attention of their sorry excuse of a date. Kaitlyn still doesn't look away; she maintains eye contact, as recognition, and as a reminder, she's not one to back down. Her enthusiastic self only makes the game more interesting.

She walks past my table, making her way up the stairs, eyes glued to her, but she doesn't budge, doesn't flinch; she continues walking until she disappears into the doors. Eyes return to wherever they came from, as did the voices increase, which in this case means gossip. A few minutes later, I follow in the same direction. The library doors are cracked open at the end of the west wing of the corridor. Through them, I catch a glimpse of her silhouette, exposing her back to me. She's staring out into the city through the tall windows, covered by the cold silver of the moonlight. 

I shuld turn away. I should give her the space she so desperately desires to have. But I do. My body moves on instinct, hunger, before reason can interfere. The door shuts behind me with a soft click. She doesn't turn. "Stalking me already, Mr. Howard?" She says, her voice still as she continues at the sight of the city.

"You walked in here knowing the room would burn for you. Don't be suprised I followed that fire." I step closer, my breath heating up on her neck. 

"Careful Miles, fire burns." She replies, the words struggling to come out of her mouth as she turns to face me 

"I'm not scared of a little fire. I built an empire from it." I reply, moving inches closer to her. 

"Prove it"

Two words that tug on my restraint, it feeds on my hunger, my desire and ignites the already present spark between us.

I give in.

My lips crash onto hers. Her red lipstick smears against my mouth as she kisses me back. She tastes like champagne with a hint of rebellion, the kind of mix any man would go crazy for. My lips go lower into her neck, kissing and sucking, not long enough to give her a hickey, but long enough for pleasure. My hands grip her waist, unable to tell the difference between silk and skin underneath it. She gasps into my mouth when I press her against the shelves. "You think you can control this, don't you?" I ask, mumuring against her skin.

"I don't think, I know."  Her breath shaky, giving her up.

My hands trail down the slit of her dress, fingertips brushing upher thigh. She inhales against my neck. I take my time skimming upward, savouring the little sounds she makes. I inch higher and higher, grazing lace, her hips twitch betraying her. 

"You like playing with fire, Kaitlyn?" I whisper, dragging the words across her ear. She bites down on her lips, trying not to give me the satisfaction. But her body betrays her again when I slide the lace aside, fingers finally touching heat. She gasps, nails raking down my chest through my shirt. Her head falls back against the shelves, lips parting as I stroke her slowly, deliberately, each motion designed to unravel her.

"Say it," I growl against her throat. "Say you want this."

She rolls her eyes at me "I'll never give you those words"

Defiant. Stubborn. Perfect.

I thrust a finger inside her, slow, deep. Her sharp inhale breaks her mask for a fraction of second, and I feel her tighten around me. Another finger joins, stretching her, preparing her, making her moans spill louder now, uncontrolled.

Her hand fists in my suit, dragging me closer as though she hates herself for needing the contact.

"God, Miles..." she breathes, voice cracking on my name.

"That's it," I murmur darkly, pumping harder, curling my fingers just right until her body shudders against mine. "Let it go."

Her thighs tremble around me, her hips rolling helplessly against my hand. She bites into my shoulder to stifle the cry that wants to escape, but I hear it anyway. I feel the release ripple through her as she comes undone against my fingers, her walls clenching, her breath shattering in uneven gasps.