C24 Fought with a hurricane

SYDNEY

The office smelled faintly of burnt coffee and paper, a lingering reminder of the chaos I had tried so hard to tame. I had barely sat down at my desk when Paige, my ever-efficient PA, appeared in a rush, holding her tablet like it might explode if she didn’t hand it to me immediately.

“Sydney, you need to see this,” she said, voice low, her eyes darting to the hallway as if she feared someone would overhear.

I frowned. “See what?”

She hesitated, chewing the inside of her cheek. “It’s… about the men who harassed Alaric yesterday. You’re going to want to sit down.”

My heart skipped. “What about them?”

Paige’s hand trembled slightly as she swiped through her phone. “Well… their cars were keyed, one of their apartments had a… little break-in. And—” she paused dramatically—“each of them woke up with injuries. Broken ribs, bruises, sprains. They’re alive, but—well… they’re terrified.”

A chill ran down my spine. “Alive? Injuries? Paige… what are you saying?”

Paige shrugged, trying to seem casual, but failing miserably. “I’m saying… it wasn’t HR. And I think… maybe… Alaric had something to do with it.”

I laughed—well, I tried to, but it came out more like a strangled gasp. “Alaric? Doing what? That… that’s impossible. He’s… he’s…” My words faltered. How do you explain that someone could be terrifying, infuriating, and impossibly handsome, all while leaving men shaking in fear without actually killing them?

Paige raised a brow. “You’ve noticed he’s not exactly… normal, right?”

I rubbed my temples, suddenly aware of how much I didn’t know about him. And yet… that ache in my chest that had started the moment I met him—the one that refused to leave—made me realize how much I wanted to. Wanted him, feared him, and maybe even… admired him.

My mind made up its decision before I could think better. I needed answers. Now.

---

I found him in the executive office, seated at a corner desk, completely absorbed in documents. His posture was rigid, perfect, like a statue carved from ice and shadow. I straightened my shoulders, squared my jaw, and strode over.

“Alaric,” I said, sharp but controlled.

He looked up, eyes narrowing. The faint bruises along his temple and shoulder only added to the dangerous perfection of his face. “Sydney,” he replied, voice smooth but cold. “What do you want?”

I crossed my arms, leaning casually against the edge of his desk, though I could feel my pulse hammering. “I just want to know why the men who harassed you yesterday woke up looking like they lost a fight with a hurricane.”

His eyes flicked to mine, sharp, calculating, like he was reading me through and through. “And you think it’s any of your business?”

I exhaled sharply. “It is my business when it involves my employees. And it’s also my business because… someone’s abusing their power, Alaric, and I want to know who.”

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, and smirked—a dangerous smirk that made my stomach tighten. “Power? Do you think what you see is power? You don’t know the first thing about control. About the consequences of letting people cross the wrong line.”

I raised a brow. “Are you threatening me?”

“Not threatening,” he said smoothly, leaning forward now. His face was inches from mine, heat radiating in a way that made my knees feel like wet noodles. “I’m telling you what your recklessness costs. You follow me around. You kiss me in public. You stir the hornet’s nest, and now you want to act like a concerned employer? You made this your problem, Sydney. Every part of it.”

My lips parted slightly. I’d expected anger, maybe guilt. What I hadn’t expected was… this fire. The way he looked at me, all dark edges and undeniable pull, was terrifying and intoxicating.

“Alaric…” I started, my voice low and tentative.

“No,” he cut me off. “Don’t. You don’t get to soften this with your charm or your looks. You think your smile erases the chaos you’ve caused? You think your apologies matter when you’ve turned my life upside down?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but the words died as he leaned closer, dangerously close, and I felt the heat of his body like a warning signal in my veins. My pulse raced. The office disappeared. The hum of the computers, the distant footsteps in the hall—all of it vanished.

And then, before either of us could speak again, he closed the distance, capturing my lips with his in a kiss that was nothing like the quick, teasing kiss at the restaurant. This one was slow, deliberate, claiming. His hands framed my face, tilting my head up as if the world had narrowed down to this single point, and my knees went weak.

Everything in me ignited. The sharpness of his anger, the weight of his accusations, the taste of him—all collided, and I felt myself melting into him. My hands found their way to his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his shirt, and every breath was stolen, every thought gone.

This kiss wasn’t playful. It wasn’t a bet. It was fire, and it was confession, and it was a challenge, all at once. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d wanted someone like this, wanted someone to see me and want me to the point that everything else in the world blurred.

When I finally pulled back, gasping for air, I met his eyes—dark, stormy, full of something I couldn’t name. Anger, need, frustration, desire—all tangled together like the city streets at midnight.

“Do you remember anything?” he whispered, his breath hot against my cheek.

“I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice shaking. My mind was a daze. It felt like there was a huge gap before the kiss

This was the second time this was happening to me and I didn't understand what was going on.

“What happened? How did we get here?.”

His gaze hardened. “It doesn’t matter. Remembering more than you should would only make things… more complicated.”

And with that, he straightened, stepped back, and left. The office felt suddenly empty, colder, quieter. My heartbeat echoed in my ears, loud and demanding, and I realized something: nothing in my life had ever made me feel this alive, or this out of control.

What did he mean by that?

And what just happened?

---

I sank into my chair, still trembling. Paige appeared a moment later, eyes wide. “Are you okay? That… I mean—what happened?”

I shook my head, laughing a little despite the heat still coursing through me. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I think… I might be in trouble.”

Paige smirked. “You mean with him?”

“Yes,” I said, voice firm, but my pulse betrayed me. “Definitely with him.”

And as I stared at my computer screen, trying to focus on anything but the memory of his lips, his hands, and the tension in his gaze, I realized: this was only the beginning.

Because Alaric Blackthorne had more to him that met the eye. And I was going to uncover whatever secrets he hid from me...

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