Chapter 5

Haylee left Leo in a secure, luxury waiting room on the ground floor, flanked by two of John's private security guards.

She walked alone toward the executive elevator.

The doors slid open. Sam Rivers, the executive secretary, stood waiting. He smiled politely, scanning Haylee's retina and fingerprint to grant her access.

The elevator shot upward at a dizzying speed. The sudden weightlessness made Haylee's stomach drop, but she kept her spine perfectly straight.

The doors parted, revealing a massive, minimalist floor. The cold gray and black tones felt like the inside of a weapon.

Sam led her to a set of heavy walnut doors. He knocked once.

"Enter," a deep, resonant voice commanded from inside.

Haylee's breath hitched. The sound of that voice sent a sharp jolt of electricity down her spine. Her fingers twitched, but she pushed the door open.

A tall, broad-shouldered man stood with his back to her, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Manhattan skyline.

Hearing her heels, Benedict Keith turned around.

His piercing gray eyes locked onto hers like a sniper finding his mark.

The air in the room instantly thickened. Benedict stared at her face. A violent, inexplicable sense of familiarity hit him in the chest. He felt like he had looked into those defiant eyes in the pitch black.

His jaw clenched. He forced the irrational thought away and walked to his massive desk, sitting down.

Haylee sat in the leather chair opposite him. She didn't break eye contact.

Benedict didn't smile. He tossed a thick contract onto the desk. "Dr. Mathews. Your resume is flawless, but Aethelred doesn't fund hobbies."

Haylee opened the file. She scanned the numbers, her eyes narrowing.

"Your R&D budget allocation is a joke," Haylee said flatly.

She rattled off a series of complex data models, tearing apart the conservative financial plan his CFO had drafted. She spoke with absolute authority, her voice cutting through the quiet room.

Benedict's eyes narrowed. He was used to people sweating in this chair. Her aggressive, brilliant pushback sent a thrill of genuine respect through him.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his presence suffocating. "You're asking for a blank check. What if Chimera fails?"

Haylee let out a cold laugh. She leaned in, matching his intensity. "I don't fail. If you don't have the stomach for this, I'll take the patent to your competitors."

Sam, standing by the door, sucked in a sharp breath.

Benedict stared at her for three agonizing seconds. Then, a low, dark chuckle vibrated in his chest.

He picked up his Montblanc pen and signed his name across the bottom of the contract, approving every demand.

He slid the paper across the desk. "You win, Director. But I want clinical breakthroughs in three months."

Haylee signed her name with a quick, sharp motion. "You'll have them in one."

She handed the contract back. As Benedict took it, his fingers brushed against hers.

A violent spark of static electricity snapped between them.

Both of them jerked slightly. Benedict's eyes shot up, landing on the base of Haylee's neck.

A faint, jagged scar rested just above her collarbone.

Benedict's pupils dilated. His heart hammered against his ribs. The memory of a woman thrashing under him, of skin tearing, flooded his mind.

He opened his mouth to speak.

The heavy doors flew open, slamming against the wall.

A woman in a Chanel suit burst into the room, tears streaming down her face. Kaylie Holder.

Kaylie ignored Haylee completely. She threw herself over the edge of Benedict's desk, sobbing loudly.

"Benedict! You have to do something!" Kaylie cried.