Chapter 4 Blur of the Night

Amelia Hart's apartment felt smaller than ever, the walls closing in as she paced, her mind a storm of Ethan Knight's touch-those fingers grazing her cheek, the heat of his breath so close she could almost taste him. Last night's encounter in the office had left her sleepless, her body restless with a need she couldn't name. She glanced at her phone: 6 a.m. Another day at Volare Enterprises awaited, and with it, the risk assessment Ethan had demanded for her influencer campaign. But it wasn't the work that made her pulse race-it was him.

She chose a sleek black dress for the day, its neckline daring but professional, a silent challenge to the man who'd already unraveled her composure. The subway ride to Manhattan was a haze, her thoughts tangled with Ethan's warning: "You're testing my control." What would happen if that control snapped? The idea sent a shiver through her, equal parts thrill and fear.The 42nd floor of Volare Enterprises was quieter today, the frenetic energy of the app launch tempered by focused work. Amelia settled at her desk, diving into the risk assessment. She outlined vetting protocols for influencers, contingency plans for brand missteps, and metrics to track engagement. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, but her mind kept drifting to Ethan-his voice, his scent, the way his eyes seemed to see straight through her.

At noon, Lauren appeared, her expression unreadable. "Ethan wants the risk assessment in his office by 2 p.m. Don't be late." She paused, then added, "And watch out for Victor. He's been sniffing around your project."Amelia's stomach tightened. Victor Kane's cryptic warnings were starting to feel like a threat. "Thanks for the heads-up," she said, forcing a smile. Lauren nodded and walked away, leaving Amelia to polish her report with renewed urgency.

By 1:50, she was ready, her tablet tucked under her arm as she headed to Ethan's office. The executive wing was a world apart from the marketing floor-plush carpets, frosted glass doors, and an air of untouchable power. She knocked on Ethan's door, her heart thudding.

"Come in," his voice called, low and commanding.

She stepped inside, and the sight of him hit her like a wave. Ethan sat behind a massive mahogany desk, his dark hair slightly tousled, his tie loosened, revealing a glimpse of tanned skin at his collar. The office was a study in wealth-floor-to-ceiling windows, modern art, and a leather couch that looked sinfully inviting. His eyes lifted from his laptop, locking onto hers with an intensity that made her knees weak.

Miss Hart," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Your risk assessment?"

She handed him the tablet, her fingers brushing his as she did. The contact sent a jolt through her, and she saw his jaw tighten, a flicker of something raw in his eyes. "It's all there," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Vetting protocols, crisis management, and performance metrics."

He scrolled through the document, his expression unreadable. "Thorough," he said after a moment. "You've addressed every angle Victor raised. Impressive."

Her cheeks warmed at the praise, but she caught the edge in his tone when he mentioned Victor. "Is he a problem?" she asked, bolder than she intended.

Ethan's eyes narrowed, his fingers pausing on the tablet. "Victor plays his own game. Stay sharp around him." He stood, rounding the desk to stand closer, his presence overwhelming. "But you're not here to talk about Victor, are you?"

Her breath caught, the air between them charged. "I'm here to do my job," she said, but her voice wavered, betraying the heat pooling in her core.

His lips curved, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Your job," he murmured, stepping closer until only inches separated them. "And yet, you keep looking at me like that."

"Like what?" she whispered, her body leaning toward him, drawn by a pull she couldn't fight.

"Like you want something you shouldn't." His voice was a low growl, his hand rising to cup her chin, tilting her face up. His thumb brushed her lower lip, and she gasped, the touch igniting a fire that spread through her veins. "Tell me, Amelia, what do you want?"

Her mind screamed to step back, to run from this line she was about to cross, but her body had other ideas. "You," she breathed, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, time stopped. Then his mouth crashed into hers, hard and hungry, his hands gripping her waist as he pulled her against him. The kiss was a storm-fierce, consuming, tasting of coffee and desire. She melted into him, her fingers tangling in his hair, her body pressing closer as heat exploded between them. His tongue teased hers, a promise of more, and she moaned softly, the sound swallowed by his mouth.

He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against hers. "This is a mistake," he growled, but his hands didn't let go, one sliding to the small of her back, the other tracing the curve of her hip.

"Then why does it feel so right?" she whispered, her lips brushing his jaw, her body trembling with need.

He groaned, his grip tightening as he kissed her again, deeper this time, his hand slipping under the hem of her dress to graze her thigh. The touch was electric, and she arched into him, her skin burning where his fingers roamed. The desk pressed against her back as he lifted her onto it, papers scattering unnoticed. His lips trailed to her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, and she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.

The sound of a phone ringing shattered the moment, sharp and insistent. Ethan froze, his breath hot against her skin, then pulled back, cursing under his breath. He grabbed the phone from his desk, his eyes still locked on hers, dark with unspent desire. "Knight," he snapped into the receiver, his voice rough.

Amelia slid off the desk, her legs unsteady, her lips tingling from his kiss. She smoothed her dress, trying to regain composure as Ethan spoke in clipped tones, something about a board meeting. When he hung up, he turned to her, his expression torn between hunger and restraint.

"This can't happen again," he said, but his voice lacked conviction, his eyes still tracing the curve of her mouth.She nodded, her throat tight, but her body screamed otherwise. "I should go," she managed, grabbing her tablet and heading for the door. His gaze followed her, heavy and burning, as she left.

Back at her desk, Amelia's mind was a mess. That kiss-raw, reckless, perfect-had changed everything. She tried to focus on her work, updating the influencer list, but her thoughts kept drifting to Ethan's hands, his lips, the way he'd said her name. By 7 p.m., the office was nearly empty, and she was still reeling when Victor appeared, his presence like a cold shadow.

"Working late again?" he said, his tone too casual. "You're making waves, Amelia. Be careful you don't drown

She met his gaze, her nerves steeled by the day's intensity. "I can swim, Victor. Don't worry about me."

He smirked, leaning closer. "Ethan's got a soft spot for you. That's dangerous-for both of you." He straightened, his eyes glinting. "Watch yourself."

Amelia's jaw clenched as he walked away. Victor's words were a warning, but they only fueled her resolve. She wasn't just fighting for her career now-she was fighting for whatever this was with Ethan, no matter how forbidden.

By 9 p.m., she was the last one in the office, the city lights a glittering backdrop. She was finalizing her influencer outreach plan when footsteps broke the silence. Ethan stood in the doorway, his suit jacket gone, his shirt clinging to his frame. "You're still here," he said, his voice low, almost accusing.

"I wanted to finish," she said, standing to face him. The air between them crackled, the memory of their kiss hanging heavy.

He crossed the room in three strides, stopping just short of her. "You're making it hard to stay away," he said, his voice rough, his hands flexing as if fighting the urge to touch her.

Then don't," she said, her voice a challenge, her body aching for him.

His eyes flared, and he closed the distance, his hand cupping her face as he kissed her again, slower this time, but no less intense. Her hands roamed his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his shirt, and she pressed herself closer, lost in the heat of him. His lips moved to her ear, his breath hot as he whispered, "You're going to ruin me, Amelia."

She shivered, her fingers slipping under his shirt, grazing his skin. "Good," she whispered back, her voice a dare.

His phone buzzed again, and he swore, pulling away with visible effort. "Go home," he said, his voice strained. "Before I do something we'll both regret."

She nodded, her body screaming in protest as she grabbed her bag. On the subway home, her skin still burned where he'd touched her, her lips swollen from his kisses. She texted Elena: "I kissed him. I'm screwed."

Elena's reply was immediate: "DETAILS. NOW."

But Amelia couldn't explain-not the way Ethan's touch had set her alight, not the way his control was fraying, pulling her deeper into a fire she didn't want to escape.