NovelStartChapter 202: Beauty Wrapped In Sensuality
Gabriel's POV
| checked the tagain.
Ten minutes late.
Clairessa was never late.
In all the tI'd worked with her, she'd never keptwaiting—at least not without a damn good reason. Once,
maybe twice, she'd cut it close, but only because I'd sent her a meeting brief late. She never made excuses. She
never let things slip.
| kept my expression neutral, but inside, my thoughts were already spiraling. If she wasn't here yet, something
was wrong—and | had a damn good idea what. This had Adrian written all over it.
He'd screwed something up. Again.
| looked across the boardroom table at Randolph-CEO of Randolph Corporation. He sat stiff in a tailored suit, lips
pressed into a line of disapproval. The impatience practically rolled off him.
His board members surrounded him like statues-silent, unsmiling, their expressions heavily judgmental.
Randolph tapped his fingers in an edgy rhythm against the glossy oak surface, then narrowed his eyes, locking
ontowith an impatient glare.
"Gabriel," his voice clow and tensed with a subtle warning, "you know how much I hate being kept waiting."
| offered a patient, measured smile-calm but firm. "My team is never late. They're on their way. Should be here
any moment."
| paused, meeting his gaze. Lying to someone like him left too much room for humiliation.
Especially when | had no idea where Clairessa was or what was holding her up. I'd already messaged Tems, told
him to find her and bring her here immediately- no matter what it took.
Randolph leaned back, clearly unimpressed.
| didn't wait for him to press further.
"But let's not forget," the words slid out smoothly, easing the pressure back his way, "we were supposed to
deliver this pitch in a month. Instead, you gave us... what, three days? No prior notice, no chance for extensions-
nothing but the weight of the Randolph name."
That got a few stiff chuckles from the board. Even Randolph's stone face cracked slightly.
| nodded once, firm but respectful. "They'll be here. And they'll deliver a great presentation."
And right then, as if summoned by the thinnest thread of hope, the boardroom doors opened.
Clairessa walked in-steps unsure, breath quick, face a shade too pale.
| noticed instantly. Something was wrong.
My eyes moved past her, expecting Adrian to follow.
But it wasn't him.
It was Nicole.
Just Nicole, clutching a laptop like a shield as she stepped in behind Clairessa.
No Adrian.
"Damn it." The words slipped out under my breath.
My chest tightened. My suspicions were right. Adrian screwed it up. Again.
As she approached, her head stayed down, hands fumbling slightly with the folder
she carried. When she reached the table, she stopped.
Her gaze darted everywhere-the screen, the chairs, the board-anywhere but
me.
She took a breath, straightened slightly, then lifted her chin just enough to speak.
A soft smile touched her lips. “Mr. Storm,” she began, still refusing to meet my eyes, her voice silky, almost too
calm as it cut through the tension. "I apologize for the delay."
| rose halfway, offering a formal nod. “This is Ms. Hartwood and Ms. Wilkins," | said, gesturing toward Clairessa
and Nicole. "They'll be presenting on behalf of my team today."
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She turned to Randolph with practiced grace and dipped her head slightly.
"Mr. Randolph, once again, we sincerely apologize for keeping you waiting."
Then she smiled.
Elegant. Poised.
"But | can assure you," she added, "it'll be worth the wait."
It landed.
The temperature in the room shifted-just slightly. Randolph's focus settled on her, his interest unmistakable. A
few board members uncrossed their arms.
Stepping toward the projector, she drew a slow breath as the screen lit up with our expansion plan. Calmly, she
walked them through the goals, the budget, the projected results.
| should've been focused on the numbers. The charts. The bored, expectant faces
of the Randolph team. On the stakes riding on every slide.
But | wasn't.
My gaze was locked on her. Watching. Studying. Wanting.
| wanted to be angry. | needed to be.
She had one job-get Adrian in line. And he didn't show. But how could | blher? | knew exactly who my son
was.
No, the fury burning in my chest wasn't for her. It was for him-my arrogant, self- absorbed, spineless son who
couldn't pull off one simple task.
Who kept proving, again and again, why he would never be ready to carry any legacy | built.
He couldn't pull off one simple task. And now, he'd left Clairessa to drown. And yet... she wasn't drowning.
She was holding it together, even if the nerves were there. | saw it-the slight tremble in her hands as she clicked
to the next slide. But the more she spoke, the steadier she becher voice growing clearer, more confident.
Sentence by sentence, she found her footing.
All through, she hadn't spareda single glance.
Or maybe this was her way of punishing me.
For setting her up to fail.
For throwing her into this mess.
For forcing her to turn Adrian into the face of the pitch-when she'd already told
But | pushed anyway.
I didn't care.
| just wanted it over. Done. Off my plate.
Because deep down, | couldn't stomach it couldn't stand her spending any more
twith my son.
I didn't want her near him.
| wanted her with me. And only me.
| wasn't ready to lose her. Not yet.
And that need-reckless, frustrating-burned through every ounce of anger |
thought I'd felt.
The more she held the room in the palm of her hand, the more everything intwisted into something else.
Something raw.
Darker.
Hungrier.
It pulsed through me-low and consuming and | couldn't stop my eyes from dragging over her like | had every
right to.
She wore deep navy trousers that clung to her hips like sin, emphasizing the
curve of her waist and hugging the shape of her ass in a way that made my blood heat. Her waist was so narrow
| could've spanned it with both hands—and | wanted to.
Her shirt was fitted, tucked in just
right, dipping at the neckline to
reveal a tease of caramel cleavage that begged to be kissed. Her
hair-brown waves-fer net
over her shoulders. Not styled too precisely. Not trying too hard. She
didn't have to.
She was beauty, weaponized-wrapped in maddening sensuality and effortless
grace.
The kind of woman who walked into a room and owned it without lifting a finger.
And God help me, | wanted to ruin all of it.
My eyes dropped to her lips-glossed, full, pink.
Fuck.
Kissable.
| watched the way they moved as she spoke. Clear. Intentional. Owning every
breath, every word.
She didn't know what she was doing to me.
Or maybe... she did.
God, | wanted to taste her. Right now. Right here.
| wanted to crush my mouth to hers until she stopped speaking-until her perfect sentences shattered on her
tongue and she melted into me, wanted to slip my tongue past her lips and swallow her moan-the soft, pleading
kind she gavewhen she wanted more without having to say a word.
The kind that burned throughlike wildfire.
| imagined standing, dismissing the whole damn room with a warning look,
slamming the boardroom door shut.
Taking two long strides, I'd grab her
by the waist lifting her clean off the
floor. Her legs would Fp réuht!
press her against the wall, letting her
feel just how hard | was for her how
much | needed her. Then The content
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she'd dig her heels into my back,
pullingcloser, pushing me, m
deeper aegdipgmiole of my
throbbing cock-more heat, more
pressure, more of everything I'd The
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been holding back.
Then I'd lay her out on the boardroom table-oak, wide, solid—and strip every
inch of fabric from her body like it offended me.
I'd drop to my knees and swipe my tongue across her slick heat—because | knew
she'd be dripping wet the second | spread her open for me.
Lick. Suck. Devour.
I'd worship every inch of her until she
was breathless, shaking fingers 1
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my hair, begging me-hoarse and desperate to take her.
Then I'd bury myself inside her.
Slow. Deep.
Until she remembered exactly what it felt like to haveinside her.
Until her body clenched around mine and | drove into her harder, faster-until the
table shook beneath us and the only sound in the room was her moaning my
nlike it was the only word she knew.
Because | knew her.
Knew every response.
Every sound.
Every need.
And | knew | was the only one who could give it to her like that.
A deep, throbbing ache tightened in my pants.
Fuck. | was hard—right there under the damn table.
| clenched my jaw, trying to will it away, to suppress the desire burning through
me, the images ravaging my mind like fire.
| wasn't supposed to be thinking like this.
Not here.
Not now.
Not in a room full of men watching her-listening to her, judging her.
| was supposed to be evaluating her.
| was supposed to be furious.
But all | could think about was how badly | wanted her-and how much | hated the
fact that she no longer belonged to me.
Then the boardroom door burst open, banging against the wall with a loud crack.
All heads turned.
Adrian walked in.
Late.
As always.
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