As You Wish

She stepped onto the design department floor the next morning. Conversations halted. Office workers leaned over their cubicles, tracking her every movement with wide eyes. Whispers broke out the moment she walked past and down the aisle. She chose to handle her corporate affairs quietly. Exposing the missing designs to human resources would trigger a public spectacle across the entire building. A scandal involving the Pruitt family would spare Sterling Boutique no mercy, threatening severe financial fallout and ruining logistics partnerships. She set her bag on her desk and ignored the busy office gossip. She picked up her receiver and called Nolan directly.

The phone barely rang once before the line clicked open.

"Hey, could you check if Mr. Sterling is free today? I need to see him," she instructed.

"Come on up."

Nolan gave his answer in a split second. He did not put her on hold to inspect a calendar. He did not hesitate to check with a superior first. The strange immediacy of his response made her stomach drop.

"Was Mr. Sterling right there with you the entire time I was on the phone?" she asked.

Nolan let out a nervous puff of air over the receiver.

"Wow, you are sharp as a tack! You are far too perceptive for your own good!"

Celine hung up the phone. She stared at the black plastic of the receiver. Nolan had bypassed all protocol. He took zero time to verify the schedule. She quickly deduced that Vance had been silently listening in on the call the entire time. The realization unsettled her deeply. Unwanted energy buzzed beneath her skin. It felt as though their single, drunken night together had tightly wrapped an unwanted tether of fate around her wrist. It bound them together without her permission, turning her into a target for his attention. She pushed her chair back and headed for the executive elevator.

The metallic doors slid shut, sealing her in the quiet cabin. She rode in silence up to the thirtieth floor. The gentle hum of the machinery did little to calm her racing heart. She stepped out onto the thick, plush carpet of the executive suite. The sheer scale of the intimidation tactics in this area always put her nerves on edge. The air up here smelled faintly of polished wood and expensive cologne. She walked straight to the heavy mahogany doors of the CEO's office. She took a steadying breath and knocked.

"Come in."

She opened the door. The CEO's office was a freezing, sterile cavern compared to the rest of the building. Floor-to-ceiling windows poured harsh morning light across the dark, minimalist furniture, creating long, sharp shadows across the floor. Vance sat behind his massive desk. He wore a sharp black suit. He looked like an apex predator resting in wait. He set his pen down on the glass surface and looked up at her.

"What is it?" he asked.

She stepped toward the desk. She placed her hands on the cold leather backing of a guest chair. She calmly detailed Jenna’s transgressions to Vance. She explained the deleted files, the midnight hours in the office, and the planted documents on her workspace.

Vance watched her face. He remained silent until she finished.

"I will handle it," he stated.

"I want an apology from her—a genuine one, to my face. But obviously only if it won't cause trouble for the company," she insisted, prioritizing his business stability over her own vengeance.

Vance leaned back in his leather executive chair. The chair creaked under his shifting weight. He locked his dark, piercing eyes onto hers.

"Whatever you decide to do about this will not affect the company. Are you sure you do not want to take this public?" he challenged.

"Pruitt Transport has massive shipping partnerships with Sterling Group. It will cause ripples either way. I just want to keep things from getting messy," she explained.

Vance tilted his head. He studied her expression carefully.

"Worried about me?" he asked smoothly.

The deep cadence of his voice sent a rush of heat straight to her face. Her cheeks burned hot. They were discussing corporate sabotage. His sudden shift to personal intimacy threw her off balance.

"No," she vehemently denied it.

She averted her eyes to the polished wood of his desk.

"Jenna is just trying to get by here. She probably had her reasons for panicking. I prefer you not be too hard on her to avoid corporate backlash," she quietly reasoned.

"As you wish."

The velvet tone of his reply sounded shockingly intimate. It sounded like an indulgence granted by a lover. Celine bit the inside of her cheek. She wished she had never come up to the thirtieth floor.

A few minutes ticked by in heavy silence. The heavy double doors swung open. Nolan physically escorted Jenna inside the expansive office. Celine moved away from the desk. She took a seat on the leather sofa near the window.

Jenna walked in with aggressive confidence. Seeing Celine sitting on the couch shattered her posture. Jenna tensed instantly. She whipped her body around to face the desk. She plastered on a sickeningly sweet smile.

"You wanted to see me, Van?" she cooed.

Vance had been staring down at his paperwork. His head snapped up. His gaze darkened sharply. The temperature in the massive room plummeted to freezing. The air pressure thickened.

"What did you just call me?" he demanded fiercely.

His crushing glare bore down on Jenna. She flinched under the weight of his fury. She thought name-dropping their social connection would grant her special treatment.

"Mr. Sterling," she nervously corrected herself.

Vance clenched his jaw tight. He looked down at his documents in disgust.

"I am not the one who summoned you. She did," he coldly clarified.

He pointed a rigid finger toward the couch. He stripped Jenna of any illusions that they were addressing personal matters. Jenna whipped her head back toward the sofa. Celine offered an enthusiastic wave.

"Hey there, Ms. Pruitt!"

Jenna's chest heaved. Her desperation morphed into a rigid, defensive barrier. She maintained her hostile posture.

"Celine, whatever this is about, couldn't you have sorted this out privately? Did you really have to drag Van into a petty dispute?" she accused loudly.

Frustration coiled tight in Vance's chest at the sound of the nickname. He opened his mouth to shut the designer down. Celine beat Vance to the punch.

"I truly didn't want to trouble Van, but if this blows back on the entire design department, I don't think you'll be able to face the fallout."

Celine smoothly and maliciously weaponized the intimate nickname. She let the single syllable roll off her tongue to establish her current standing in the room. She pulled her smartphone from her pocket. She brought up the video application and held the screen out. She confidently presented the incriminating security video showing Jenna planting the files.

All the color drained from Jenna's face. Her knees shook. Her hands curled into tight, pale fists at her sides.

Vance relaxed back into his seat. A soft sigh escaped his lips. He watched Celine remain composed and vicious on the sofa. He thoroughly enjoyed the show. He liked watching her take command of the room.

Jenna stared in horror. She could not comprehend how the evidence existed.

"Pulling a stunt like this? You would risk ruining your reputation as a designer? If Vance hadn't held me back, I would have ended your career in the design department already." Celine matched Vance's cold authority.

Vance leaned forward resting his forearms on the desk. His tone left zero room for negotiation.

"Jenna, apologize. Then leave," he ordered decisively.

Jenna threw a petulant fit. She whined pathetically at him.

"She gets to call you Van without consequence! Why can't I?" she screeched.

"Nor can you. Call me Mr. Sterling." Vance shut her down with a single, lethal look.

Jenna recoiled. She had no moves left to play. She swallowed her shattered pride. She turned to the sofa.

"I am sorry, Ms. Winslow. I should not have framed you. I will not do it again," she offered a bitter, forced apology.

"Got it." Celine let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Vance waved a dismissive hand toward the exit. Listening to the squabbling gave him a headache. Jenna spun around on her heels and marched toward the door.

"Wait."

Vance's voice cut through the air like a whip. He narrowed his dark eyes.

"When you left the other night, did you run into anyone else?" he asked.

Celine gripped the edge of the leather cushion. Her stomach did a wild flip. He had seen something out there in the parking garage. He sounded genuinely troubled by the existence of loose ends.

Jenna shot one last icy glare back at Celine.

"No," she denied coldly.

"You may go now. Close the door on your way out," he directed. "Celine, you stay."

Jenna stomped out of the room. The mahogany doors slammed shut. Silence descended over the large office once again. Celine pushed herself up from the couch. She smoothed down her professional skirt.

"Mr. Sterling, is there something else?" she asked.

"Come here," he commanded.

She complied without argument. She stepped across the carpet and stood directly in front of his polished desk.

Vance leaned back in his expensive chair. He placed his large hands casually on the armrests. He exuded an air of total, undeniable dominance in the quiet space. The professional atmosphere evaporated.

"So you thought I wouldn't call you out on this, did you?" he murmured.

"Mr. Sterling, I have no idea what you're talking about." Celine feigned innocence.

She knew he possessed too sharp a mind to miss her petty tactics. She secretly tested the waters. She needed to know whether his previous, shocking remarks about her becoming his wife held any actual sincerity, or if they were empty words born of guilt.

A rumble of amusement vibrated in his chest.

"Oh, so it's 'Mr. Sterling' now," he noted, his voice dripping with amusement. "A moment ago you were calling me 'Van' left and right. It rolled right off your tongue, didn't it?"

Celine fought back a victorious smile. She bit her lower lip to keep her expression neutral.

"I apologize. It will not happen again," she replied softly.

She kept her head lowered. Her eyes inadvertently dropped from his face. Her gaze snagged on his exposed shirt collar. The crisp white fabric framed the strong, tanned column of his throat. A vivid, undeniable flashback seized her mind. She vividly recalled tearing that exact collar off him just the day before. She remembered the sound of the buttons popping off the thread. She remembered the feeling of his heated skin beneath the fabric. The rough texture of his chest occupied her burning thoughts.

Vance caught the direction of her heated gaze. He looked down at his own shirt. He watched her eyes track the unbuttoned collar. A lazy, devastating smirk claimed his lips. He let his body sink deeper into the chair, spreading his legs in a casual showcase of raw masculine confidence. The air between them thickened with breathless seduction.

"What—you want me again?" he murmured.

His voice dropped into a low, dangerous rumble, delivering the blatant sexual proposition right in the middle of his pristine corporate office.