Dangerous Spindle

Note before reading! This story is undergoing major re-writing. Majority if chapters will be different so please note before reading, thank you!

Elise

It was a Monday morning in mid-September, and the air was heavy with anticipation. Today, I was meeting a new client—a high-profile one, or so Maggie had hinted. I worked as an interior designer, and while my clients were often wealthy businessmen and women, this one seemed different. There was something in the way Maggie had spoken about him that left me curious, maybe even a little nervous.

I stood in front of the mirror, scrutinizing my appearance. My black hair, sleek and styled to curve around my face, fell just past my shoulders. At 5'6", with an hourglass figure, I knew I could command attention, but I wasn’t sure why today I felt the need to try harder. A subtle blush dusted my cheeks as I sighed, grabbing my folder and heading out.

Maggie hadn’t given me much information—just that he was an investment broker, always busy, and notoriously private. I rarely got nervous meeting clients, but today felt different. Like the tingling anxiety before stepping into an exam room. Unprepared, even though I had everything ready.

The brief had been vague—he wanted something for an office. Maybe an entire building, or maybe just one floor. The details were fuzzy, and that lack of clarity left me uneasy.

When I arrived at the sleek building, Maggie was already there, looking far too cheerful for someone who had been out all night.

"You look awfully chipper for someone who probably hasn’t slept," I teased under my breath as I approached her.

She grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Girl, if you had any idea. But let’s go. Apparently, we’re running late, and you know how men like him hate to be kept waiting."

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing as we stepped into the elevator. My pulse quickened, but I kept my face calm, unreadable.

When the doors opened, we were greeted by a tall blonde with her hair slicked into a bun so tight it looked painful. Her smile was professional, but I could sense something beneath it—a subtle tension.

"Thank you for coming. He’s been waiting," she said smoothly, her voice carrying a hint of reverence, like he was more than just another client. She gestured for us to follow.

As we entered the large office, the first thing I noticed was the man sitting at the long, polished table, his hand casually resting on the thigh of the stunning woman beside him. Their posture was intimate, almost too comfortable. When they both glanced up, I felt like we’d interrupted something.

"Mr. Alistair, your guests are here," the blonde announced.

He rose from his seat slowly, exuding authority with every movement. My breath hitched slightly as I took him in—tall, broad shoulders, and muscular with an air of effortless dominance. His beard was neatly trimmed, framing a chiseled jawline. His brown hair was slicked back, the sides shaved close to his head, giving him an edge that made my stomach tighten involuntarily. And those eyes—dark, smoldering, and intensely focused—sent a shiver down my spine.

"Maggie, good to see you again. You know I have a soft spot for a strong businesswoman," he said, his voice deep, laced with something that felt dangerously close to seduction. Maggie’s cheeks flushed under his gaze, and I bit my lip, watching the subtle exchange between them.

"The pleasure’s all mine," she purred back. "And this is Elise, my brilliant designer. She’ll be handling everything moving forward."

His gaze shifted to me, and I felt his eyes sweep over my body, lingering for a beat too long. Heat bloomed in my chest as his lips curved into a small, knowing smile. Then, without saying a word, he nodded.

A nod? Seriously?

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes but couldn’t help the thought that followed—I am definitely judging this book by its cover.

"Nice to meet you," I said, my tone a touch sharp. "And no need to worry about greetings. Apparently, first impressions don’t matter." Maggie shot me a warning glance, but I ignored her, casually taking a seat at the table.

Mr. Alistair’s smirk deepened, his eyes locking onto mine, and I could feel the pull—an undeniable current of tension that neither of us acknowledged aloud, but it hummed between us, simmering under the surface.

His hand casually brushed the leg of the woman next to him. She was striking—tall, lithe, blonde, and practically wrapped around him. Her eyes flicked to me, cold and territorial. I wasn’t here to steal him, but the way he looked at me—like I was a challenge he couldn’t wait to take on—made me wonder if maybe she had a reason to worry.

"Will your…friend be joining us for this?" I asked, barely able to hide the edge in my voice.

"She can stay," he replied, his gaze still locked on me.

I spread out the designs on the table, hoping to regain some control. "I wasn’t sure of the exact style you wanted, so I’ve prepared several options. Just let me know which one speaks to you."

His eyes drifted lazily over the sketches before landing back on me, not the designs. The dismissiveness stirred something in me—annoyance, yes, but also a flicker of something darker, something that made me want to prove myself in ways I hadn’t expected.

I sighed inwardly and launched into my pitch. "This first concept is for a warm, welcoming space—wood-panelled walls, spacious with modern lighting that creates a cozy focal point. There’s a partition here for privacy, but that can be adjusted based on your needs." I glanced at him, and to my surprise, he was watching me closely, his gaze intense.

"This second one," I continued, my voice slightly breathy now, "creates a more dramatic, circular layout. The reception area curves outward to reveal a stunning view. Timber doors with steel accents. I’ve also designed a terrace to let in natural light, connecting the space to a small greenery area."

His lips parted slightly as he listened, his eyes darkening. The room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with unspoken tension.

"You drew all these?" His voice was low, quiet, but there was something there—something that made my pulse quicken.

"Yes," I replied, unable to tear my gaze from his. "Is there something specific you’d like to change? Or add?"

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping the table slowly, deliberately. "What about just one office? Mine. On the top floor, with a patio. What could you do with that?"

I reached for my pen, my fingers trembling slightly, and began to sketch again. The room was silent except for the soft scratch of my pen on the paper. When I finished, I turned the sketch toward him. His eyes scanned it, then flicked back to mine, a satisfied gleam in them.

Maggie cleared her throat, breaking the spell. "You can choose colors later, or Elise can suggest a palette for you. What do you think?"

Before he could answer, the woman beside him spoke up, her voice dripping with disdain. "Babe, I don’t like the idea of you working with another woman. We could find someone else. Besides, this design feels over-the-top."

I fought the urge to laugh but held my tongue, exchanging a knowing glance with Maggie. But Mr. Alistair’s response was swift.

"You don’t get to tell me who I work with," he said, his tone sharp, cutting through the tension. "And I didn’t ask for your opinion."

He turned back to me, his eyes raking over my body as if weighing something heavy on his mind. "I like this design. Can I keep it? I’ll get back to you in a few days."

"Of course," I replied, standing to gather my things. As I turned to leave, he stepped toward me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. He slipped a piece of paper into my hand.

"Here’s my number," he said softly, his breath brushing my ear. "I’ll be in touch."

As we left the building, the cool evening air hit my face, releasing the tightness in my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been.

Maggie nudged me, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Girl, you are so freaking good at what you do. This is why I love working with you. Plus, you’ve got to admit, he’s one fine man."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Yeah, well, he’s also kind of a jerk."

"A hot jerk," she teased. "Anyway, I’ve got a meeting, but let’s grab drinks later this week to celebrate. That client is ours."

"Definitely," I agreed, smiling as we parted ways.

Later that night, my phone buzzed with a message. I opened it to see an unfamiliar number, the initials "M.A." popping up on the screen.

I’m glad Maggie chose you. Where did you learn to draw like that? – M.A.

I smirked, quickly typing a response. Just a talent I pursued. Are you liking the design? – El.

Yes, I do. But in the future, don’t talk back to me unless you want to start something. Talk soon. – M.A.

I stared not knowing exactly what he meant.