Chapter 8 Game Of Fire

Sienna sensed it the moment she stepped into his office. The air felt different. Heavier. Adrian Blackwood wasn’t behind his desk, as he usually was. Instead, he stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, one hand in his pocket, the other loosely gripping a glass of whiskey. Sunlight bled through the glass, casting sharp shadows over the crisp planes of his white dress shirt. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a sliver of his sculpted chest, the firm muscle and golden skin teasing at something undeniably male, undeniably powerful. He turned when she entered, his dark gaze sweeping over her like a slow burn. “Miss Locke.” Her name rolled off his tongue like a promise. Sienna exhaled through her nose, determined not to let her nerves show. He was just a man. A dangerous, powerful man. But a man nonetheless. “You asked for me?” Her voice was crisp, professional. Adrian took a slow sip of his drink before setting it down on the desk. His movements were deliberate, calculated, as if everything he did was part of some unspoken strategy. Then he strode toward her. Not rushed, not hesitant—just confident, certain. Sienna stayed rooted in place, refusing to step back, even as he stopped a breath away from her. Close enough that she could smell his cologne—woodsy, spiced, dark. Close enough that his heat licked at her skin. His gaze traced her face, lingering at her lips before flicking back up. “Tell me something,” he murmured. Sienna lifted her chin. “That depends.” Adrian’s lips twitched, but his amusement didn’t quite reach his eyes. Those stayed sharp, assessing. “Are you always this tense around me?” Sienna inhaled, willing herself not to react. “I’m not tense.” His dark brows lifted, as if daring her to say that again. And then, he moved. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted a hand—fingertips just barely grazing the cuff of her blouse. A whisper of contact. Not enough to be a touch. But enough to feel like a promise. Sienna’s pulse hammered, though she refused to let it show. Adrian exhaled, and she caught the subtle movement of his throat. He was tall, and standing this close, she could see the tension in his forearm, the way the veins in his hand shifted as his fingers flexed. Masculine, controlled, restrained. “You left the gala early,” he murmured. Sienna’s breath caught. Adrian leaned in, just a fraction, his voice dipping lower. “Was it because of me?” Sienna steadied herself. “I had other matters to attend to.” A half-smirk. “Liar.” The word curled through the air between them, thick and heavy. She stiffened, but he only continued, his fingers brushing along the fabric of her sleeve—soft, teasing, testing. “I wonder,” Adrian murmured, tilting his head, “what would happen if you stopped fighting me.” Sienna’s throat dried. “Fighting you?” A quiet chuckle. Dark. Dangerous. Adrian’s gaze flickered to her mouth. And then, he moved closer. Not touching, not yet—but his lips hovered a breath away from her jaw. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of them, close enough that if she moved even a fraction, they’d meet. Sienna swallowed. “I think,” Adrian said softly, his breath tracing fire along her skin, “you want to see what it would feel like.” Her lungs constricted. She should push him away. Should remind him that she worked for him, that this was inappropriate. But she didn’t move. And Adrian knew it. His knuckles brushed the inside of her wrist—light, lingering, skimming the delicate pulse point. Slowly, his hand traveled upward, tracing the barest hint of pressure along the inside of her forearm. A touch that shouldn’t have felt so intimate, so all-consuming—but it did. Sienna’s stomach tightened. Adrian exhaled, his chest shifting slightly—broad, solid, commanding. And then, he dipped his head, his lips ghosting over the line of her jaw. Not a kiss. But not nothing, either. Sienna’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. He was testing her. Toying with the limits of her resistance. She turned her head slightly, forcing space between them. “You enjoy pushing boundaries, don’t you?” she said, her voice tight. Adrian smiled—slow, wicked, victorious. “Only when they beg to be tested.” Her stomach twisted, heat coiling dangerously in her lower abdomen. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t let herself fall into whatever trap he was setting. Sienna stepped back, severing the contact. Adrian didn’t move to stop her. But the look in his eyes—sharp, knowing, far too confident—told her he didn’t need to. She could still feel him on her skin. Still feel the ghost of his breath, the weight of his presence. Adrian smiled slightly. “You’ll give in eventually.” Sienna exhaled slowly, steadying herself. “Don’t hold your breath.” But the words felt weaker than she intended. And by the way Adrian’s smirk deepened, he knew it too.