This? Her? She nearly dropped me to my knees.
“Can we come back to this room later?” she asked hopefully.
Fuck. I was absolutely doomed.
Someone in a nearby cubicle peeked over the partition at the sound of Olivia’s voice. The second his eyes landed on me, all the color drained from his face.
“Sorry, sir.”
The apology tumbled out so fast it nearly overlapped itself. Papers clutched tightly to his chest, he ducked his head and hurried off before I could say a word.
Olivia watched him flee with raised brows before slowly turning back toward me.
“Are they all that scared of you?”
I straightened slightly, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“Maybe.”
The answer came easier than it should have.
“No matter how polished FangTech looks, some people will always see the Syndicate as killers in expensive suits.”
“And the others?”
I reached out before I could stop myself, tucking a strand of glamoured chestnut hair behind her ear. My fingers lingered along her jaw before I gently tipped her chin upward. Our faces hovered inches apart.
“To the others,” I murmured, watching her pupils widen slightly, “they know exactly who we are and don’t care… because we protect what belongs to us.”
Her throat bobbed in a swallow while excitement flickered through her eyes like sparks catching fire.
And fuck, seeing that look directed at me, my self-control was starting to crumble like a house of cards.
The urge to drag her into the nearest empty office and ruin her against a desk came roaring back.
I released her face before I did something reckless.
Show her the floor first. Then maybe find somewhere private.That became the new plan.
I turned and motioned for her to follow.
“This entire level is Testing and Development,” I explained while we walked. “It’s underground because we needed more space than the actual tower could provide.”
Her gaze bounced everywhere at once.
Massive open labs stretched out beneath exposed industrial beams. Glass-walled workshops buzzed with machinery while drones zipped overhead carrying parts between departments.
“The underground floors are each about the height of an airplane hangar,” I continued. “Double the width of the building above us.”
Her eyes widened again.
“That’s insane.”
A grin tugged at my mouth as she hurried closer to one glass wall, peering into a fabrication room like a kid at an aquarium.
“The lower levels handle military-grade projects. Weapons. Defense systems. Syndicate-specific equipment.” I pointed up. “Floor fifteen handles mass production and public consumer tech.”
She nodded along quickly, absorbing everything. Meanwhile, every employee we passed suddenly became deeply invested in their workstations. Heads lowered. Eyes avoided mine. Nobody wanted my attention for too long because attention from me usually meant more work.
