Page 19 of The CEO

“Not enough. Yet.” I steady my gaze, meeting his directly. “But I’m just getting started, Mr. Knox.”

He studies me for several long and agonizing seconds. It could be minutes. Then he completely takes me by surprise, letting out a rich laugh that completely transforms his face. For an instant, his mask is back in place, allowing me a glimpse of the charismatic businessman the world knows—the one who charms investors and society.

“You know, most people who decide to investigate me start with public records, interviewing ex-business associates, or fired employees. They don’t typically walk into my office and announce their intentions to my face.” He leans forward, the mask gone along with all traces of any humor. “It’s either remarkably brave or remarkably fucking foolish, and I haven’t decided which.”

Once again, my body betrays me. My brain is still screaming at me to stop—to get out of here before I cross a line that can’t be uncrossed. But I feel pinned to the chair, like I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to. A shiver of excitement runs through me at his threatening tone.

“Maybe it’s both,” I say softly, maintaining eye contact despite my thighs starting to tremble. “I believe in a direct approach.”

“Clearly.” His head tilts curiously, his gaze shifting almost imperceptibly down my body before returning to my eyes, a smirk playing across his lips. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

My attempt at playing coy is an immediate failure. Even with the heat that’s rapidly coursing through my body right now, I know my face is glowing red.

“Do you really want me to say it?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Knox, I’m not sure what you’re implying, but I’m simply trying to listen and interpret your body language.”

Leaning another inch forward, he reaches his fingers out, resting them lightly atop my knee. “You’re trembling.” His eyes are fixated where he touches me—my skin so warm beneath his fingertips, it almost burns.

He stands abruptly, moving to the window. His back is toward me, just like he was at the preserve when I first saw him. His mood and demeanor change like a chameleon. “You understand, of course, that connecting unrelated deaths to a business as large and diverse as Knox Industries is simple pattern-seeking behavior. The human mind loves to create narratives where they don’t exist.”

“True,” I acknowledge, rising slowly from my seat and coming to stand beside him. His eyes stay focused on the people below, and I can’t help but wonder what he thinks when he looks at them.

Are they just bugs to squish? An obstacle to hurdle and trample on his way toward another conquest?

“Or perhaps some patterns exist because they were deliberately created by someone who thought they were insignificant enough not to be noticed.”

He turns to face me, close enough that I catch the subtle notes of his cologne. “Let me offer you some friendly advice, Miss Thorne. Investigating powerful people, especially when they value their privacy, can be dangerous. Not everyone appreciates having their lives scrutinized.”

My throat squeezes shut and I have to swallow down the fear that keeps threatening to make me run screaming. “Is that a threat, Mr. Knox?”

“I don’t make threats.” His voice stays steady, his eyes holding mine with an unblinking stare that feels like it could melt me. “But you can consider it a promise.”

The memory of his words in the forest preserve echoes in my head:“If you fail this time, you’ll be answering to The Skull. And trust me, he won’t be as forgiving as I am.”

“I’ve upset you,” I say with a smile, feigning an apology. “That wasn’t my intention, Mr. Knox. Let’s refocus on your charitable work.”

His smile returns in a flash, charming with an edge. “I don’t think that’s why you’re really here, is it?” He steps closer to me, his presence overwhelming. He lowers his voice to that raspy, almost-whispered tone. It carries a heavy current of danger. “No, I suspect your interest lies somewhere else. Why don’t we stop playing games and you tell me what you really want?”

The energy between us is thick and charged, confusing my brain and my body even more than the way he’s looking at me. I can’t tell if the fire in his eyes is pure rage or something else . . . something that makes me curious.

His question hangs between us, but I’m not sure how to answer it. What I want is the truth.What is The Shadows? And why was he threatening that man, Roberts? Who is The Skull? I want to know how he’s connected to these deaths.But revealing all of my knowledge to him this early feels dangerously premature.

“I want to understand how a man like you came to be who you are,” I say instead, the words more honest than I’d intended. “The public narrative seems . . . vague and incomplete.”

Something flickers in his eyes but does little to give away his emotions. “Don’t you think there’s a reason for that?”

He’s so close now that the material of his suit jacket brushes against me. My tongue darts out to lick my dry lips, and for the first time, he loses focus. He looks down to my lips, his eyes narrowing just slightly.

“Unfortunately,” he says, stepping back and breaking the tension, “our time is up. I have another meeting.”

And just like that, I’ve been dismissed. But as I gather my belongings, Damien turns back to face me.

“I’m hosting a charity gala this weekend at my estate, Eden. Perhaps you’d like to attend? You can see firsthand all the good that our foundation does.” He pulls a card from his pocket, extending his arm toward me. “My private number. For your . . . research.”

I take the card, our fingers momentarily touching. Just that millisecond of contact shocks me. “I don’t typically attend social functions for stories.”

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