Arielle sat frozen in the sleek leather chair, her fingers twitching around the edges of the iPad. The word "leash" echoed in her head like a fire alarm that no one else seemed to hear.
Shadow him?
All day?
He made it sound so clinical. So professional.
But she wasn't stupid. She knew a power move when she saw one—and this one was crafted with precision. With patience. With the kind of chilling control only someone like Dominic Raine could wield.
She leaned back slowly, crossing her legs again, this time not for seduction—but defiance.
"So let me get this straight," she said, tone honey-laced poison. "You want me to follow you around like a puppy? Take notes? Fetch your coffee?"
He looked at her with all the expression of a marble statue. "If I want coffee, I'll make it myself. I don't hire ornaments. I hire weapons."
She blinked. That… was not what she expected to hear.
"You're not here to look pretty, Miss Sinclair. You're here to learn how to lead. From the ground up. But you've been treating this place like your father's playground." He paused, his voice dipping lower. "That ends now."
Arielle's breath caught.
Not because she was afraid.
Because for the first time in a long time, someone saw past the glitter. Past the brat.
He saw the fire she buried.
And he was dragging it out—whether she liked it or not.
"You assume I want what you have," she said slowly. "That I want to be like you. Ruthless. Controlled. Obsessed with power."
He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You already are. You've just been playing a watered-down version of it."
She hated that his words stirred something.
Admiration.
No. Fascination.
God, what was wrong with her?
She stood, letting the iPad clack down on the desk with a little too much force. "Fine. You want a shadow? You've got one. But don't expect me to sit there and nod like some intern. I don't do silent."
"I know," he said evenly, "and I don't want silent. I want useful."
He walked past her, brushing her shoulder on the way to the door. "We're heading to a boardroom pitch in fifteen minutes. Bring a pen. Wear your sharpest smile. And don't embarrass me."
She watched him leave, his steps unapologetically confident.
Her hands curled into fists.
God, she hated him.
God, she wanted to win.
Not just survive his game—but master it.
As she walked out of the office moments later, heels clicking like war drums, her mind was already shifting gears.
No more rebellion for the sake of rebellion.
If she was going to be under his nose—she was going to make him regret letting her in this close.
He wanted her to learn discipline?
She'd show him brilliance.
But on her terms.
And maybe… just maybe… she'd learn what it meant to hold real power.
The boardroom was cold. Literally and figuratively.
Recessed lighting gleamed off a long, obsidian table. Twelve seats, eleven men in tailored suits, and one woman—Leila from legal—who wore her hair tight and her smiles tighter. They looked up as Dominic Raine walked in.
And then Arielle followed.
In red.
Blood red.
A sleeveless power dress with a high neckline and a slit up the side sharp enough to be considered a weapon. Her hair was swept into a sleek ponytail, her lips painted with unapologetic gloss, and her heels? Louder than a warning shot.
She walked in like she'd been there a thousand times before.
Dominic didn't acknowledge her as he moved to the head of the table. "Let's begin."
The presentation was already up on the screen—financials, projections, strategy. The numbers danced across graphs in perfect harmony.
Arielle stood beside him, iPad in hand, not saying a word.
Not yet.
Dominic moved through the first half of the pitch like a blade through silk. Clear. Cool. Controlled.
Then came the Q&A.
An older man across the table—a regional director with a gold Rolex and an ego to match—leaned forward.
"Everything looks tight, Raine. But this partnership with Arton Technologies? They're shaky. Bad press. Can't trust a company that gets hacked twice in one year."
Dominic didn't flinch. "They've since overhauled their entire security infrastructure and signed three new defense contracts."
The man wasn't satisfied. "Still a bad look. Makes us look soft by association."
That's when Arielle spoke.
Softly.
But every head turned.
"Well, maybe we should ask why a company with 'soft associations' is still outperforming three of its competitors in Q2 margins."
Dominic's head turned—just slightly.
Arielle stepped forward. Cool. Calm. Dagger-sharp.
"I reviewed the Arton case files last night," she lied smoothly. "Their new CTO was poached from Westmere Cyber Defense. The press spun the breaches into bloodsport, but internally, they've implemented quantum firewall tech no one else in the sector is using yet. So if anyone here is worried about appearances, maybe worry more about being two steps behind the tech curve."
Silence.
Then a single, approving cough from Leila.
Dominic didn't smile.
But something flickered behind his storm-gray eyes.
Approval.
Or maybe curiosity.
Arielle just smiled, sweet as venom.
The meeting continued.
By the time it ended, executives stood, offered curt nods, and filtered out. Leila even gave Arielle a once-over that wasn't entirely cold.
When the room was nearly empty, Dominic finally turned to her.
"You prepared."
She shrugged. "Of course I did. You don't think I sleep in until noon every day, do you?"
"I do," he replied. "But maybe I'm willing to be wrong."
He walked past her, then paused at the door.
"That was good, Sinclair."
She blinked.
That was the first time he'd said her name like it meant something.
And not like a mess he had to mop up.
She followed him out, but not before glancing over her shoulder at the empty boardroom.
The space where she proved—for the first time—that she wasn't just a spoiled brat in lipstick.
She was a threat.
And Dominic Raine?
He'd better be ready.
Because the leash worked both ways.