Chapter 3 Edge of Control

Amelia Hart barely slept, her dreams a tangle of Ethan Knight's dark eyes and the weight of his fleeting touch on her shoulder. The memory of his voice-low, commanding, laced with something dangerous-kept her tossing until dawn. Now, standing in her cramped Brooklyn apartment, she stared at her reflection, choosing a fitted burgundy dress that hugged her curves just enough to feel bold. Today was the board presentation, her chance to prove she belonged at Volare Enterprises. But Ethan's presence loomed larger than any boardroom, a distraction she couldn't afford.

The subway ride to Manhattan felt endless, her mind racing through her pitch. She'd spent hours perfecting it, incorporating Ethan's feedback on retention metrics and adding visuals to sell her vision of an influencer-driven campaign. Her tablet buzzed with a text from Elena: "Crush it today, girl. And tell me more about Mr. Hottie CEO." Amelia smirked, typing back, "Focus is key. Talk tonight." But focus was a lie-Ethan was already under her skin.

Stepping into Volare's gleaming lobby, Amelia felt the weight of the day settle on her shoulders. The 42nd floor was a hive of activity, the marketing team buzzing with pre-launch energy. Lauren intercepted her at the elevator, her expression all business. "Boardroom, 10 a.m. sharp. The execs are in a mood, so don't expect a warm welcome."

Amelia nodded, clutching her tablet. "Got it. My pitch is ready."

"It better be," Lauren said, her eyes narrowing. "Ethan's betting on you. Don't make him look bad."

The words hit like a jolt. Ethan was betting on her? The thought sent a thrill through her, mixed with pressure that made her chest tight. She retreated to her desk, reviewing her slides one last time. Her nerves jangled, but she channeled them into focus, determined to nail this.

At 9:55, she entered the boardroom, a sleek space with a long mahogany table and floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city. The board members-seven men and women in tailored suits-sat like judges, their faces unreadable. Victor Kane was there, his slick smile in place, but his eyes gleamed with something predatory. Ethan stood at the head of the table, his charcoal suit impeccable, his presence commanding. His gaze met hers as she entered, a flicker of intensity that made her breath catch. She forced herself to look away, setting up her presentation.

Lauren kicked things off, outlining the app's launch strategy. Then she nodded to Amelia. "Our new marketing assistant has a proposal for the social media rollout. Amelia, go."

Amelia stood, her heart pounding but her voice steady. "Volare's AI app needs a campaign that feels human," she began, projecting her slides. "Our data shows 18-to-34-year-old trust authentic voices over polished ads. I propose partnering with micro-influencers-real users like fitness coaches or tech bloggers-who can showcase the app's features organically. This drives 25% higher engagement and builds trust."

She walked the board through her plan: creator selection, content timelines, and projected ROI. Her visuals were sharp, her data airtight. She felt Ethan's eyes on her, a steady weight that both unnerved and emboldened her. When she finished, the room was silent for a moment.

Victor spoke first, his tone smooth but edged. "Creative, Miss Hart, but risky. One rogue influencer could tank our brand. Why not stick with proven channels?"

Amelia held his gaze, refusing to flinch. "Proven channels are safe, but safe isn't memorable. Our competitors are flooding traditional ads. This campaign cuts through the noise with authenticity. We mitigate risk with strict vetting and content guidelines."

A board member, a woman with silver hair and sharp eyes, nodded. "Intriguing. What's the timeline?"

"Four weeks to launch," Amelia said. "We're already scouting creators with high engagement rates."

Ethan leaned forward, his fingers steepled. "Bold, Miss Hart. I expect a detailed risk assessment by tomorrow." His voice was professional, but the way he said her name-low, almost intimate-sent a shiver down her spine.

The board approved her pitch for a trial run, and Amelia exhaled, her legs shaky as she sat. Victor's smile was tight, his eyes cold, but Ethan's nod was subtle, approving. The meeting wrapped, and the room emptied, but Ethan lingered, reviewing notes. Amelia gathered her things, her pulse still racing from the adrenaline of the presentation.

Miss Hart," Ethan said, his voice stopping her as she reached the door. She turned, finding him closer than expected, his tall frame filling the space. "You held your own in there. Not many do."

"Thank you, Mr. Knight," she said, her voice softer than she meant. His eyes were dark, searching, and the air between them crackled with tension.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "You're playing a dangerous game, pushing boundaries like that." His gaze flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes. "Not everyone in this room is your friend."

Her breath hitched, her body hyper-aware of his proximity. "I can handle it," she said, echoing her boldness from yesterday. But her voice trembled, betraying the heat pooling in her core

His lips curved, a dangerous edge to his smile. "Can you?" He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her cheek. The touch was electric, searing her skin, and she froze, caught in the intensity of his gaze. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her, his face so close she could feel his breath. Her body leaned toward him, drawn by a pull she couldn't resist.

Then he stepped back, his expression shuttering. "Get that risk assessment done," he said, his tone clipped. He turned away, leaving her breathless and unsteady.

Amelia stumbled back to her desk, her mind a whirlwind. That touch-brief, deliberate-had set her alight. She tried to focus on the risk assessment, but her thoughts kept drifting to Ethan's fingers, the heat in his eyes. By 6 p.m., the office was quiet, most of the team gone. She was deep in her work when Victor appeared, leaning against her desk.Nice show today," he said, his tone too smooth. "But a word of advice: Ethan's favor comes with a price. Don't get too close."

Amelia's jaw tightened. "I'm here to work, not play games."

Victor chuckled, his eyes cold. "This place is nothing but games, Amelia. And you're already in over your head." He walked away, leaving a chill in his wake.

She shook it off, finishing her draft by 9 p.m. The office was nearly empty, the city lights a glittering backdrop. She was packing up when Ethan's voice came from behind her. "Still burning the midnight oil?"

She turned, her heart skipping. He stood in the doorway, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms that made her mouth dry. "Just wrapping up," she said, her voice catching as he stepped closer.He glanced at her screen, then at her, his eyes dark with something unspoken. "You're relentless," he murmured, his voice low and rough. He moved closer, stopping just inches away, his scent-sandalwood and heat-enveloping her. "But you need to know when to stop."

Her breath was shallow, her body alive with want. "And if I don't want to stop?" she whispered, the words slipping out before she could think.

His eyes flared, and for a moment, she thought he'd close the distance, press her against the desk, claim her in the empty office. His hand hovered near her arm, fingers flexing as if fighting restraint. "Careful, Amelia," he said, his voice a growl. "You're testing my control."

Her lips parted, a response caught in her throat, but his phone buzzed, shattering the moment. He cursed softly, stepping back to check it. "Finish your work and go home," he said, his tone brusque but his eyes still burning. He left without another word, leaving her trembling with need.

Amelia packed up, her body thrumming with unspent energy. On the subway home, she texted Elena: "I'm in trouble. He's too much." Elena's reply was instant: "Spill EVERYTHING." But Amelia couldn't put it into words-not the way Ethan's touch had ignited her, not the way his warnings only made her want him more. She was falling, fast and hard, into something she couldn't control, and the thrill of it was as terrifying as it was intoxicating.