Chapter 8: The Edge of Control

Sophia's POV

Some days, I wake up with perfect control.

Everything in its place. My mind sharp, my focus unbreakable. The weight of responsibility sitting comfortably on my shoulders, a familiar burden I've learned to carry without complaint.

And then there are days like today.

Days where the ghosts of the past wake up before I do.

Where the echoes of my parents' voices linger in my mind, trapped somewhere between memory and nightmare.

Where I feel the weight of something heavy in my chest, something I can't name, something that refuses to be ignored no matter how much I try to bury it.

Today, I was already on edge before Travis Cole walked through my door.

And the bastard had noticed.

I leaned back in my chair, fingers tightening around the armrests as I watched him from across the room.

He was still here.

Comfortable as ever, like this was his office, his space, like he had every right to plant himself in my world without invitation.

And worse? He was watching me.

Not in the way men usually did. Not with that thinly veiled hunger, the predatory gleam of someone who thought I was a prize to be won.

No.

Travis's gaze was sharp. Assessing. Like he was peeling back layers, trying to see past the mask I had spent years perfecting.

I hated that it made my pulse tighten.

"I hope you don't think sitting here is going to accomplish anything," I said, keeping my voice as dry as possible.

He smirked, slow and deliberate. "Oh, it's already accomplished plenty."

I lifted a brow. "Enlighten me."

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "I learned something new about you today."

I forced my expression to remain unreadable. "Doubtful."

His gaze flickered down—just for a second—to where my fingers had brushed against my thigh earlier.

And just like that, I knew.

He'd seen.

He didn't know what it meant, not yet. But he'd caught it. The tiny, instinctive movement I rarely let slip in front of anyone.

Shit.

I kept my expression smooth, tilting my head slightly. "You think staring at me long enough is going to give you answers?"

He grinned. "No. But it's fun watching you pretend I don't get to you."

My stomach clenched. Not because he was right—he wasn't.

But because for the first time in a long time, I felt the urge to fight.

Not in the way I usually did. Not the cold, calculated takedowns I delivered in boardrooms, the razor-sharp words that sliced through men who thought they could outmaneuver me.

No, this was different.

This felt like standing at the edge of something dangerous, something I shouldn't want.

And I refused to give in to it.

"You must have a lot of free time," I said, voice cool, "if you're this determined to irritate me."

He shrugged. "You're more interesting than my usual distractions."

I scoffed. "Flattering."

"I wasn't trying to be."

My fingers curled slightly against the desk. "Then what do you want, Cole?"

His smirk didn't falter, but his eyes darkened slightly, something unreadable flashing through them.

For the briefest second, I thought he might actually answer me. Might give me something real instead of another infuriatingly vague response.

But then, he leaned back in his chair again, stretching out like he had all the time in the world.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out."

I clenched my jaw. "How thoughtful."

A knock on the door interrupted us.

Leah.

She didn't wait for permission, strolling in like she owned the place, her gaze flicking between me and Travis.

"Well, this looks cozy," she said, smirking.

Travis grinned. "I was just thinking the same thing."

I shot her a look that promised retribution. She ignored it.

"I need a word with you," Leah said, glancing at me. Then, to Travis, "Alone."

He sighed dramatically, standing. "And here I was enjoying myself."

I watched as he moved toward the door, pausing just before stepping out.

He glanced back at me, his smirk shifting into something softer, something dangerous.

"I'll see you soon, Moreau."

And then he was gone.

I exhaled, tension coiling in my spine as Leah shut the door behind him.

She turned to me, arms crossed, an infuriating smile on her face. "So, that was something."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Don't start."

"Oh, I am starting." She dropped into the chair Travis had just vacated. "Explain."

"There's nothing to explain."

Leah arched a brow. "Really? Because from where I'm sitting, that was the closest thing to flirting I've ever seen you do."

I scoffed. "That was not flirting."

She leaned back, smirking. "Then what was it?"

"A battle," I said simply. "And I intend to win."

Leah laughed, shaking her head. "Soph, I love you, but you do realize you're already playing his game, right?"

I met her gaze, steady. "I don't play games."

She held my stare for a long moment, then sighed. "I just don't want you getting caught up in something you don't want."

I inhaled slowly, forcing the tension from my shoulders. "I don't want anything, Leah."

She studied me for a beat, then nodded, standing. "Alright. But just so you know—he's not walking away."

I didn't answer.

Because I knew she was right.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and phone calls, my focus sharp, my mind firmly locked on work.

But no matter how much I tried to push it aside, Travis's words kept creeping back in.

You're more interesting than my usual distractions.

Like I was something different.

Something he wasn't used to.

And I hated that some part of me liked that idea.

By the time I got home, exhaustion was pressing down on me. I shed my heels at the door, heading straight for the shower, letting the hot water wash away the tension of the day.

When I climbed into bed later, I told myself I was done thinking about him.

That tomorrow, he'd be nothing more than another annoyance to deal with.

That this wasn't the start of something dangerous.

But as I stared at the ceiling, my room filled with silence, I knew—

I was already too close to the edge.