Chapter 3

Cori POV:

The hard leather portfolio felt like an anvil in my arms as I marched down the rubber-matted hallway toward the executive elevator bank.

I reached the stainless-steel elevator doors and tapped the call button.

Footsteps approached from behind—measured, heavy, carrying that unmistakable, steady rhythm that set my nerves on fire. The scent of winter pine and tobacco hit me a second before his shadow fell over the wall.

I turned my head. Kurt was standing less than two feet away.

He had shed his casual clothes, wearing a charcoal three-piece suit cut so sharply it accentuated every inch of his broad, athletic frame. His dark hair was styled back, and his hands were resting easily inside his trouser pockets.

Before either of us could speak, the elevator arrived with a soft chime.

The brushed-chrome doors slid open, revealing five people already packed inside. Two junior marketing coordinators, a corporate accountant, and standing right in the center with a fresh iced matcha was Chloe.

I hesitated, planning to wait for the next car, but a group of interns rushed up behind us, pushing forward. I was shoved straight into the crowded elevator cab, losing my balance. My portfolio slipped, and I stumbled backward, landing directly against a solid, unyielding chest.

Strong, familiar hands instinctively caught my waist, steadying me in the cramped corner. I looked up, my face burning, only to meet Kurt's icy blue eyes. A faint, teasing smile played on his lips as he looked down at me trapped against him.

The elevator was packed shoulder-to-shoulder. Everyone was facing the doors, completely oblivious to the fact that the billionaire owner of the franchise had just been shoved into the back corner with a junior designer.

Kurt simply shifted his stance, using his broad frame to shield me from the crush of bodies, maintaining a subtle, highly inappropriate proximity to my back that set my nerves on fire.

The doors slid shut. The elevator began its climb toward the executive suites.

The silence was suffocating, broken only by the hum of the motor.

Chloe nudged the marketing girl next to her, whispering in a tone that was supposed to be quiet but bounced off the metal walls with agonizing clarity.

"Did you hear about the captain?" Chloe murmured behind her hand. "You know how he never lets a woman within ten feet of him? Half the front office was convinced he was secretly into guys."

The marketing girl giggled. "Yeah, he's like a monk. Why?"

"Well, not anymore," Chloe sneered. "Someone saw his Escalade parked outside the Duran Hotel at dawn. The ice machine actually brought a girl back."

I gripped the leather edges of my portfolio until my knuckles turned white. My heart was pounding so hard against my ribs I was terrified Kurt would hear it.

"Yeah, apparently some aggressive Puck Bunny managed to sink her claws in," Chloe continued, her voice dripping with venom. "I heard from security that she practically rode him in the back of the car, kissing and biting him like a wild animal. And the boss didn't even push her away!"

A wave of cold dread washed over me. I wanted to sink through the floorboards. I shot a panicked, flustered glare over my shoulder at Kurt, silently begging him not to react.

Kurt's eyes glinted with deep, magnetic amusement at my flushed, flustered expression. He was clearly enjoying this. With agonizing slowness, he raised his left hand to his throat. His long, scarred fingers caught the silk knot of his tie, deliberately loosening it by half an inch.

The stiff collar parted. The bandage was now completely exposed. If anyone in front of us simply turned their head, they would immediately see the undeniable proof of my handiwork from last night.

My eyes widened in sheer panic. I shook my head frantically, my pleading gaze screaming at him to stop. Kurt's lips simply curved into a faint smile, thoroughly entertained by my panic, the thrill of our secret driving his adrenaline.

"Whoever she is, she's just another desperate gold-digger," Chloe muttered, adjusting her matcha cup with a sniff, emboldened by the gossip. "Probably some cheap slut from the lower levels trying to sleep her way to the top."

I stared down at the black rubber floor. The urge to shove my portfolio into her face was almost overwhelming.

Suddenly, Kurt spoke. His voice was dead calm, dropping the temperature in the car below freezing.

The gossiping girls jumped out of their skin, whipping their heads around to find the apex predator standing right behind them in the shadows.

"Is the equipment department this underworked?"

He didn't raise his voice. He just stared at the digital floor indicator above the door.

"Because if design staff have enough free time to spew vile, baseless gossip in my elevator, we can easily downsize the payroll by noon."

Chloe's face went from smug triumph to the color of wet chalk in half a second. She choked on her breath, clutching her cup so hard the plastic lid popped off, splashing green liquid onto her patent-leather shoes.

The marketing girls stared at the floor as if their lives depended on it.

A sudden, unexpected wave of gratitude swelled in my chest. To them, he was just a ruthless boss defending his own privacy, but I knew the truth—he had stepped up to shield me from their malicious insults.

Nobody dared to breathe.

The elevator chimed loudly. Floor 12. The boardroom level.

The doors parted, but the suffocating, terrified silence inside the cab lingered, leaving the gossips frozen in place.