Page 10 of The Founder's Power

After the meeting, he turns to me, all warmth and smooth edges again. “Thoughts?”

“On the meeting?” I ask carefully.

“On the offer.”

I take a long breath, choosing my words like I’m defusing a bomb. “You’re impressive. You always have been.”

“But?” His jaw tightens.

“But I’m not sure I fit into that version of your world.”

His expression shutters slightly. “Because I have standards?”

“No. Because you have control, total control, and art doesn’t live there.”

He studies me like I’m a puzzle with a missing piece. “You think I want to control you.”

I raise an eyebrow, shocked that he’s cutting straight to the chase. “Don’t you?”

There it is again, that flicker, that tension between who he was with me in private and who he becomes in business. He doesn’t see the difference, not really. It’s all about order, vision, and direction. Somewhere along the way, emotions and feelings are lost.

Just like it did the first time.

He steps closer, his voice low. “This isn’t personal, Isabelle.”

But it is. It always is.

And the worst part? Some traitorous part of me still wants to say yes.

CHAPTER6

ISABELLE

The elevator doors haven’t opened yet when I feel him following me down the hall.

“Isabelle.” His voice is rougher now. Not polished. Not composed.

I recognize that tone.

Damian is all about control, but there are times when he loses it…

Instead of waiting for the elevator, I keep walking down the hallway toward the door for the stairs. “Don’t. Not right now,” I call over my shoulder.

“You’re pulling away again,” he says, catching up to me easily.

I stop short, turning on him so fast he nearly runs into me. “I’m not pulling away,” I snap. “I’m protecting myself.”

We’re alone. The hallway is silent. The floor-to-ceiling windows cast the city in silver shadows, and for one breathless second, we’re back where we always end up. Too close. Too complicated. Toomuch.

“I’m not trying to control you,” Damian says, his voice low but urgent. “I’m trying to find a way back to you.”

“You can’t just offer me a deal and hope it fixes the past?—”

“I’m not offering a deal.”

“Then what is this, Damian?” I hate that my voice breaks. “Because every time I try to stay grounded, you look at me like that and I forget why I ever walked away.”

He steps forward. He’s now close enough that I feel the heat of him and his damn sheer gravitational pull I’ve never escaped. His hand comes up slowly, like he’s afraid I’ll flinch, and then he brushes his fingers down my jaw.

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