-ˋˏ 03 • Armaan •ˎˊ-

                                    

                                          

Link wanted to protest, his body tensing as I moved closer to Abhira.
But there were quite a few perks to being Poddar Corp.'s CEO. I stared him down, waiting for his inevitable acquiescence.
"Be my guest." His tone wasn't as inviting as his words, but I didn't care. He could sulk in the corner for the rest of the night, and it would suit me just fine. I had to get closer to Abhira, and I wasn't above using my position as Link's boss to get my way.
"Thank you." I dismissed him and focused on his date. "If it's all right with you, of course."
She looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes fringed with dark lashes. "Um, sure."
She'd drawn me in the moment I saw her standing next to him. Her demure attempts to pull her dress down, the heavenly curve of her neck, the raw intelligence that sparkled in her eyes. I had to know who she was, even if it meant breaking out of my cold shell to approach her. 
It was impulsive, but necessary.
"Shall we?" I held out my hands, well aware of the slight shake in them. So close to something I wanted, I couldn't help the surge of adrenaline that pooled in my brain. 
Take her. 
The sensation was as strange as it was forceful. What was happening to me? The need to take her, steal her, almost overwhelmed me, but I kept it at bay.
Hiding my true intentions was the most important facet of the personality I showed to the world. If people knew what I truly was, I'd be a pariah. Instead, I was the CEO of a vast forestry company that had been in my family for three generations.
She shot an unsure glance to Link, who gave her a nod of approval. She seemed to stand straighter and moved forward into my arms. The touch of her silky dress beneath my fingers, the slide of her warm palm into mine—I was greedy for all of it. 
I kept a look of disinterest on my face, the most-used mask in my repertoire, even though every gear and cog inside me turned and clanked as if I were a machine waking up after a long, dark sleep. 
Her energy was like gasoline in my veins, powering me up for some mysterious purpose.
We moved to the slow song, melding into the other dancers. 
She tightened in my arms, no longer at ease the way she was with him. She needed to be comfortable with me, to open up so I could see all her inner workings. Her eyes hid from mine as she looked everywhere but at me. I wanted to force her to tell me every thought that flitted through her mind. 
But that wouldn't work. 
My father had worked on my finesse, as he called it, for years, to the point that I was the puppet of perfect manners, a marionette on a genteel string. Pull here, I smiled. Pull there, I offered condolences. No string led to a kidnapping option. 
But I still had a few tricks of my own.
The song switched to another slow dance, the singer crooning an old Smoky Robinson tune. Though she was in my arms, her silence kept a wide expanse between us, one I intended to cross. I performed a brief calculus, trying to decide what a normal man would say in this situation, which string to pull.