Chapter 101: Glass Sanctum *
She looked up at him, her gaze tracing the dark, bruised circles under his eyes.
"You vanished for three hours. The corporate accounts are untouched. Whatever you did out there... did you get your leverage?"
Ryan looked back out the glass.
"I bought a wrecking ball," Ryan said quietly, his voice vibrating against the window pane. "Now we just have to wait for it to swing."
His burner phone vibrated in his inner pocket. A single, short pulse.
Ryan didn’t pull it out. He knew exactly what it was.
The clock was ticking down to midnight.
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Next Day.
The digital clock on the corner of Ryan’s monitor flipped to 8:14 PM.
Outside the floor-to-ceiling glass, the Manhattan skyline was a glittering grid of amber and white.
Inside the forty-second floor, the ambient noise had drained away, leaving only the aggressive, rhythmic hum of the servers and the faint clicking of mechanical keyboards from the engineering bunker.
Danny, Sam, and Iralis were still out there, buried behind the polarized blinds, running the massive influx of beta registrations.
Ryan sat behind his custom-built walnut desk.
The sheer weight of the wood grounded him, a physical thing against the bruising adrenaline flooding his veins.
Midnight was less than four hours away. By the time the clock struck twelve, Graves and his ghost squad would kick down a reinforced door in Tribeca and do illegal things to a room full of mobsters.
Blood was about to spill.
The heavy glass door to his office swung open.
Sophie stepped in. The sharp clack of her heels against the charcoal carpet broke the sterile quiet of the room.
She carried a stack of heavily redacted invoices, but her eyes weren’t on the paperwork. They were locked onto him.
She wore a charcoal pencil skirt that hugged the sharp curve of her hips and a silk blouse, the top two buttons left undone.
The scent of vanilla and warm amber drifted ahead of her, cutting through the scent of raw drywall and ozone that still clung to the new office.
She dropped the folders onto the corner of his desk. The files hit the polished wood with a heavy slap.
"The Sterling wire cleared their accounting department," Sophie said, her voice dropping into a low, husky register that had absolutely nothing to do with corporate finance. "The data center in Virginia confirmed rack installation. We are fully operational."
"Good," Ryan murmured, leaning back in his executive chair. He watched the way her chest rose and fell.
The frantic, high-wire stress of the day was rolling off her in waves, converting entirely into a volatile, tightly coiled heat.
"You’re wired," she noted, stepping around the edge of the massive desk. She stopped inches from his chair, her hip brushing against the armrest. She reached out, her cool fingers grazing the tight cords of muscle on the side of his neck. "Your pulse is hammering, boss."
"I have a lot of moving parts in the air," Ryan said. His voice came out rougher, darker than he intended.
Sophie’s eyes darkened. She stepped into the narrow gap between his knees, her thighs parting his legs. "Then let me quiet them down."
Out on the main floor, the sharp sound of Danny laughing at something echoed through the open door.
Ryan’s gaze flicked past Sophie’s shoulder, looking through the transparent glass walls of his office. The entire floor was visible.
Anyone walking past the reception desk would have a clear, unobstructed view of his chair.
He didn’t push her away. He reached his left hand under the lip of the walnut desk. His fingers found the small, brushed-steel button wired into the frame.
He pressed it.
A low, hydraulic hiss hissed through the room. Instantly, the smart glass enclosing the office frosted over.
The transparent walls turned a solid, opaque, impenetrable white. The sprawling, neon-lit city disappeared. The bullpen vanished. They were completely, utterly sealed in a soundproof box of their own making.
Sophie’s breath hitched. A dark, feral thrill ignited in her eyes as the isolation set in.
"They’re thirty feet away," she whispered, a wicked, breathless edge to the words. "Literally right outside."
"I know," Ryan growled.
He grabbed her by the hips, his large hands digging into the fabric of her skirt, and hauled her forward.
He crashed his mouth against hers.
Sophie let out a soft, desperate sound, her hands flying up to fist in the lapels of his dark suit.
She opened her mouth instantly, letting his tongue sweep inside to claim the warm, wet heat. She tasted of black coffee and raw, unadulterated need.
Ryan walked his hands down the curve of her spine, gripping the hem of her pencil skirt.
He yanked it upward, the friction of the thick material dragging against her pantyhose. He bunched the fabric around her waist, completely exposing the long, smooth lines of her thighs.
She broke the kiss, gasping for air, her forehead dropping against his shoulder.
"Ryan..."
"You want to quiet my mind?" Ryan rasped, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a bruise.
He unfastened his belt with one hand, the heavy metal buckle clinking loudly in the frosted room. "Do your job, Sophie."
He shoved his slacks down past his hips. The cool air of the office washed over his heavy, aching erection.
Sophie didn’t hesitate. She reached between them, her fingers hooking into the waistband of her own lace panties.
She tore them down her legs, kicking her heels off in the process, until she was completely bare beneath the bunched skirt.
Ryan gripped her waist and lifted her effortlessly. He set her down on the edge of the massive walnut desk.
The cold, polished wood bit into her bare thighs, making her shiver, but the heat radiating off Ryan’s body pinned her in place.
He stepped between her spread legs. He didn’t bother with a slow, teasing build-up.
The brutal, ticking clock of the midnight raid demanded absolute, unfiltered release.
He lined up the slick, heavy head of his cock against her wet core.
"Hold on," he commanded.
He drove his hips forward, burying himself inside her in one ruthless, unbroken thrust.