Chapter 16
Gie tried to focus.
She really, really did.
She sat there, hands folded neatly in her lap, trying to act like she wasn't completely distracted by the sinful reality of Alexander Millers sitting across from her.
He was still talking, his voice a low, smooth melody, and she was nodding along, pretending to listen.
But she wasn't listening.
Not really.
Not when her brain was betraying her.
Not when she was hyper-fixated on his lips.
The Danger of His Mouth
His mouth was a problem.
She'd never actually studied it before, but now that she was stuck in this conversation, her attention kept drifting there.
His lips were full, but not too much—just enough to look kissable, sinful, the kind of lips meant for temptation.
And the way he spoke?
The slow, deliberate way his mouth moved around words, the way his tongue occasionally flicked out, the way his bottom lip barely dragged against his teeth when he paused—
She swallowed.
Her thighs clenched involuntarily.
Oh, God.
What was wrong with her?
Her Brain Short-Circuits
She tuned in and out of the conversation, catching only fragments of what he was saying.
Something about expansion.
Something about markets.
Something about supply chains.
But all she could think about was—
"That mouth could destroy me."
She was losing it.
And worse?
He was noticing.
He's Catching On
His gray eyes flickered over her, sharp, assessing, as if he could tell that she was not following a damn thing he was saying.
And then—
His lips twitched slightly.
Not quite a smirk.
Not quite amusement.
More like—interest.
Like he was trying to figure her out.
Panic shot through her.
She needed to leave.
Now.
The Escape Attempt
Gie cleared her throat, forcing a smile. "I—I think I need some air."
Alexander tilted his head slightly. "You don't look too well."
That made it so much worse.
"I'm fine," she blurted out. Too fast. Too suspicious.
His brows lifted, and for some stupid, stupid reason, that made her panic even more.
"I should go," she muttered, already pushing her chair back.
But in her haste to escape—
It happened.
The Fall of Shame
Her heel caught on something—the edge of the table, maybe her own damn feet—
And before she could catch herself, she lost balance.
And fell.
Directly onto Alexander Millers.
Draped Over the Devil
For one horrifying second, time slowed.
One moment, she was standing.
The next?
She was pressed up against him.
Her hands against his chest.
Her thigh between his legs.
Her breath mingling with his.
And worst of all?
Her entire body was burning.
She Melts in Shame
Every single part of her locked up, mortified beyond belief.
Because Alexander did not move.
He didn't push her off.
Didn't react in shock or amusement.
He just sat there, completely still, watching her, his eyes holding something unreadable.
Like he was simply waiting.
Like he wanted to see what she would do next.
Oh, God.
Oh, God.
She needed to get off him.
She needed to vanish from the face of the earth.
"I— I'm so— I didn't mean to—"
Her hands pushed against his chest frantically, trying to lift herself—
And why the hell was his chest so firm?
Was it even legal for a man to feel this good through a damn tuxedo?
Her cheeks flamed.
Her whole body felt like it was betraying her again.
She shoved herself up, nearly stumbling again, and refused to look at him as she backed away.
"Sorry—I mean—I'm just gonna—leave—forever."
And with that, she turned on her heel and bolted.
Not gracefully.
Not elegantly.
Just—running for her goddamn life.
Behind her, she could have sworn she heard a soft chuckle.
Oh, God.
She was never recovering from this.