Chapter 5

Claire's POV

"Turn around, Daniel," I said, my voice smooth but firm, cutting through the heavy silence. "We're not done talking."

He pivoted slowly, his blue-gray eyes narrowing as they met mine. His face was a storm of anger and distrust, but he didn't walk out. Not yet. "What now, Ms. Stanton?" he bit out, his tone rough, barely holding back the edge of resentment. He crossed his arms over his chest, the fabric of his jacket stretching taut over his muscles.

I leaned back in my chair, ignoring the sticky mess on my shirt, and folded my hands on the desk. "I'm offering to move Sarah to a top-tier private medical center. State-of-the-art facilities, specialized care, and a high-end insurance plan to cover every detail. She'd get the best there is." I kept my gaze steady, watching every flicker of emotion on his face.

His brow furrowed, suspicion deepening the lines around his eyes. "And what's the catch?" he asked, stepping closer, his boots heavy on the polished floor. "You don't do anything for free. What do you want from me this time?" His voice dropped low, almost a growl, as he loomed over the desk, his shadow falling across my papers.

I tilted my head, a small smile playing on my lips, though inside, my pulse raced. "Haven't decided yet," I admitted, my words slow, deliberate. "But I'll make sure Sarah's transfer happens by the end of the week. You can trust me on that." I picked up a pen, twirling it between my fingers, and let my eyes drift down to the stack of files on my desk, dismissing him without a word.

He didn't move for a moment, just stared at me, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. "Trust you?" he scoffed, shaking his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "After what you just pulled? You've got a hell of a way of building trust." His hands dropped to his sides, clenching into fists again, the scars on his knuckles catching the light.

I looked up, meeting his glare head-on. "And yet, here you are, still standing in my office," I shot back, my voice cool. "If you didn't trust me at least a little, you'd be halfway out the door by now. So, what's it gonna be?"

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he took a step back, running a hand through his short hair, the frustration rolling off him in waves. "Fine. Do whatever you're planning for Sarah. But don't think this means I owe you anything more than I already do." He turned abruptly, yanking the door open, the frame rattling as he stormed out.

I stared at the empty doorway, the silence settling back in, heavier now. My fingers tightened around the pen until it nearly snapped. I hated how his presence lingered, how my skin still felt too warm, too aware. Dropping the pen, I stood and started sorting through the files on my desk, forcing myself to focus on anything but the memory of his eyes, his body, the raw anger in his voice.

A few minutes later, I glanced down at myself and noticed the stain on my blouse again, stark against the pale silk. Disgust curled in my stomach. I grabbed the fabric, yanking it off in one sharp motion, the buttons popping as I tossed it into the trash can by my desk. The smell of him was still on me, and I couldn't stand it another second.

I headed to the private rest area connected to my office, the sleek marble tiles cold under my bare feet as I stripped off the rest of my clothes. Stepping into the glass-enclosed shower, I turned the knob, waiting for the water to heat up. My mind wouldn't stop racing, replaying every detail of what had happened. My body betrayed me, a dull ache building between my thighs as I thought of Daniel's hands, his reluctant submission. I bit my lip hard, tasting the faint metallic tang, and let my hand slide down, fingers brushing the sensitive skin there. I was already slick, a lingering dampness from earlier tension.

A soft gasp slipped out as I touched myself, my fingers circling slowly at first, then faster, pressing against my clit with just enough pressure. The sensation hit hard, sharper than I expected, my knees weakening as I leaned against the cool tile wall. "Damn it," I muttered under my breath, my voice shaky. It didn't take long—my body was too wired, too desperate. The release crashed over me, sharp and quick, my breath hitching as warmth pulsed through me. The hot water finally kicked in, cascading over my skin, washing away the evidence down the drain, leaving nothing behind.

I stood there for a moment, letting the steam envelop me, my chest still tight. It had been ages since I'd felt anything like this, since I'd let myself go in such a raw, unguarded way. I hated that it was because of him.

Later, back in my West Seattle apartment, I sat at my glass desk, the city skyline a dark blur through the window. I reviewed the paperwork for Sarah's transfer, ensuring every detail was under my control. Keeping her in a facility I could oversee felt safer, smarter. If Daniel thought he could walk away after this, he'd learn soon enough that I didn't let go so easily. My thoughts drifted to Richard, though, and a knot formed in my gut. If William caught wind of any tension between us, it could jeopardize everything I'd worked for. I couldn't let personal messes cloud my path to becoming CEO.

The next day, I was at the site for the West Seattle urban renewal project, the air thick with the smell of fresh concrete and diesel. The project had just been greenlit, a major win for Stanton Group and the city. I shook hands with the mayor during his second site visit this month, his presence underscoring how critical this was for the local economy. As the lead on this, I had to play host at endless receptions and social events, smiling through gritted teeth.

That evening, at a high-end restaurant's VIP section downtown, I was cornered by a city official, his breath reeking of whiskey as he leaned too close, his hand brushing my lower back. "You've got a bright future, Ms. Stanton," he slurred, his fingers lingering. "A woman like you could go far with the right... friends."

I forced a tight smile, stepping back, the fabric of my dress itching against my skin from the unwanted touch. "I appreciate the sentiment," I said, my voice clipped, "but I'm doing just fine on my own." Before I could say more, Emily appeared at my side, her expression neutral but her eyes sharp.

"Ms. Stanton, there's an urgent call for you," she said smoothly, guiding me away with a light touch on my arm. Once we were out of earshot, she muttered, "Creeps like that are the worst part of these events."

I nodded, exhaling through my nose, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. "Tell me about it. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth it, playing nice with people who think they own everyone."

Emily gave me a knowing look as we reached the sleek SUV waiting outside. "It's never worth it, but we don't have much choice, do we?" she said, handing me two thick envelopes as we slid into the back seat. "By the way, these are from Daniel. Five grand in each. Cash. Apparently his security contract with the Reynolds girl pays extremely well – Victoria's father spares no expense when it comes to his daughter's protection."

I raised an eyebrow, taking the envelopes, feeling the weight of the bills inside. "He's paying me back already?" I asked, my thumb brushing over the rough paper.

Emily shrugged, adjusting her glasses. "He insisted. Said his sister isn't a charity case. Practically shoved them at me when I tried to refuse."

I stared at the envelopes, a flicker of surprise cutting through me. I hadn't expected this kind of stubborn pride from him so soon. "Keep them," I said finally, tossing them onto the seat beside me. "Let him think he's clearing his debt."

As Emily nodded and started scrolling through her phone, I pulled out my iPad, a military movie trailer popping up on the screen. The lead's intense stare reminded me of Daniel's, those piercing eyes that seemed to see right through me. I tapped the screen off, my mind wandering. Would he ever cross a line like that official did? I doubted it, but the thought lingered, stirring something restless in me.

"Emily," I said, keeping my tone casual, "get me Daniel's personal number."

She glanced over, her expression unreadable, but she didn't question it. "Sure thing. I'll text it to you."

Later, in the quiet of my bedroom, I typed out a quick message: Claire Stanton. I hit send, the clock on my phone reading 10:58 PM. His reply came almost instantly: What do you want?

I smirked at the screen, my fingers hovering over the keys. I wasn't going to play nice with him. Not yet. This was a game, and I intended to enjoy every second of holding the upper hand. I typed out my response, sent it at 1:59 AM, and set the phone down, a thrill running through me.

I want you.