Chapter 2 First Presentation

Raymond Carter used to possess rooms like this. He used to stroll into boardrooms wearing sharp clothes and a sharp intellect, cutting through opponents with figures and vision. He felt like he was going to drown as he stood at the head of the glass conference table at DeanTech, grasping the smooth marble and feeling sweat crawl down the back of his neck.

The television behind him flashed, lines swirling before it turned to black.

He couldn't breathe. He tapped the remote control once, then twice. Nothing.

There was something alive in the silence. The executives moved around in their chairs, their eyes migrating to the woman at the head of the table, whose legs were crossed in an elegant way and whose posture showed calm dominance.

Sienna Dean.

She lifted her coffee, took a steady drink, and set it down with a subtle click.

"Technical issues, Mr. Carter?" Her voice was gentle, laughing, with a sword hidden behind velvet.

Raymond's jaw clenched. "Just a moment, there seems to be"

"DeanTech systems don't fail," she added, her hazel eyes piercing, glancing at the IT people at the rear who shivered under her glare. "But people do."

A few folks exchanged awkward glances, half-hidden smiles playing on their lips. They were enjoying this. They could sense blood in the water, and Sienna was the shark circling.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to continue. "I will proceed without the slides."

As he flipped over his notes, the paper shook slightly in his hand. Words obscured. He had prepared this pitch a hundred times in his mind, but now, every number fell like sand through his fingers. He tried to focus on the projections, growth charts, market share, and new launches, but the room felt too hot and the air too thin.

"Mr. Carter", one of the junior analysts interrupted, "you mentioned a projected revenue increase, but your figures aren't aligning with the previous quarter's data. Could you clarify how you arrived at that growth curve?"

Raymond's mind went blank.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came.

"Mr. Carter?" the analyst pressed.

"I-" he started, but the numerals were gone. Just... gone.

A faint, almost bored sigh came from Sienna's direction. "If you cannot answer, you may say so."

The humiliation seared like acid. He struggled over another page, attempting to recollect the exact metric, his face flushing as his collar felt like a noose.

The silence extended. It was the longest five seconds of his life.

Finally, he lowered the paper. "I will provide the corrected figures shortly," he murmured.

"Is that all?" Sienna's voice was calm, almost soothing, which somehow made it worse.

Raymond nodded stiffly.

She placed her elbows on the table, fingers steepled. "Meeting adjourned."

Chairs scraped as people gathered their belongings, whispers weaving through the air as they filed out, careful not to look directly at him. Raymond stood transfixed, the failure heavy in his chest, pressing against old scars and fresh guilt.

When the door closed, trapping them alone, the quiet rage.

Raymond's eyes flickered to her. "Why are you doing this to me?" His voice cracked, raw with something he couldn't define.

Sienna's lips twisted, slow and vicious, as she uncrossed her legs and stood, each step deliberate as she walked around the table toward him.

"Doing this?" She repeated quietly, tilting her head. Her long, dark hair brushed her shoulders, her eyes glinting with something darker than rage. "Raymond, you think this is me being cruel?"

She halted inches away, so close he could see the specks of gold in her hazel eyes, the calm wrath roiling beneath the surface.

"I'm giving you a taste," she whispered. "A taste of what it felt like to stand there, vulnerable, humiliated, while you looked me in the eye and handed me money to destroy the only piece of you I had left."

His breath caught.

"You think this is cruelty? No." Her laugh was sweet and fragile. "This is justice."

She drew closer, her body brushing against his lightly, the subtle aroma of her perfume, warm vanilla, and something coiling about him, drawing memories he had attempted to ignore. Her hand lifted, fingers delicately stroking the edge of his tie, fixing it with aggravating care.

"You're under me now, Raymond." Her hand trailed higher, fingers stroking the side of his neck, slipping to his jaw, compelling him to look at her. "You will remain under me until I decide you're not worth my time."

His jaw stiffened. "Sienna-"

"Do you remember?" Her voice went lower, nearly a purr, threatening and soft. "Do you remember how you used to call me into your office late at night after everyone left? Do you remember how you'd draw me onto your lap, murmur promises you never meant, kiss me like I was your universe, and then fling me out before dawn?"

Her fingers moved to the first button of her blouse, undoing it with deliberate deliberation. The black lace of her bra poked through, the swell of her cleavage framed like a weapon she wielded with precision.

Raymond's mouth went dry.

"Sienna, please-"

"Please?" She laughed quietly, the sound frigid and empty. "You think you get to say please now?"

She took another step forward, brushing her body lightly against his, her hand sliding up his chest, feeling the fast beat of his heart.

Her lips were inches from his, her breath warm, gaze fixed onto his with an intensity that made his knees wobbly. For a minute, the world fell away, leaving just the space between them, charged with energy, with memories of nights in dark offices, furtive kisses, and murmured groans.

Raymond leaned closer, unable to stop himself, desiring the taste of her, the warmth, the forgiveness that would never come.

Their lips almost touched.

And then she shoved him backwards.

He stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the table, the sting of rejection harsher than a slap.

Sienna straightened her blouse gently, buttoning it up, her gaze as steely as diamonds.

"I'm your boss now," she continued, her voice empty of passion.

She turned her back on him, arranging her papers, organising them into a nice pile. The dismissal was plain, reflecting the innumerable times he had carelessly turned his back on her after utilising her body for his convenience.

Raymond stood there, his chest heaving, humiliation spreading over his skin like fire. His head reeled with flashbacks of her tear-streaked face, the envelope of cash he had pushed into her hands, and the coldness with which he had urged her to take care of it, to get rid of the trouble.

He had devastated her.

And now, she was destroying him.

"Get out," she ordered without looking at him, her voice calm, determined.

The identical phrases he had earlier used on her. The same cold dismissal.

He turned and left, each stride down the hallway heavier than the last, her perfume clinging to him, the taste of her almost-kiss burning on his lips.

That night, Raymond sat alone in his dark apartment, the city lights flickering through the floor-to-ceiling windows like faraway, mocking stars. His laptop was open in front of him, the presentation files blinking, wanting to be fixed.

But he couldn't focus.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face, her eyes as they looked at him in the boardroom, the way her lips curved just before she almost kissed him, and the way she had pushed him away.

Memories crashed into him:

She laughing in his office when he told her she was gorgeous.

The gentle gasps she made when he kissed her neck, drawing her tight against the desk.

Her tears when she told him she was pregnant, fear and hope in her eyes.

The way he had crushed that hope, casting her away, guarding his freedom, his reputation, and his life.

Raymond pressed a hand to his face, guilt and regret slithering under his skin.

She was right.

He had wrecked her. He had ruined all she was and everything she could have been because he had been too much of a coward to face the consequences of his actions.

And now, she was making him feel every ounce of that misery.

But beneath the remorse, something else blazed.

Desire.

Desire for the woman she had become. Strong. Powerful. Untouchable.

Desire to touch her again, to kiss her, to feel her warmth. To beg for pardon, which he wasn't sure he deserved.

And underlying that longing, another feeling: fear.

Because Raymond Carter, once a guy who had everything, had now discovered that the only thing he truly desired was the lady he had destroyed.

And she would never let him have her again.