The voice that boomed from the hidden intercom system was metallic and devoid of all warmth, a sound that sliced through the creative chatter of the design department like a blade of ice. “Natalie Hayes to the Supreme Chairman’s office. Immediately.” Silence. Utter, complete silence. Every head in the open-plan office swiveled in her direction. Pencils stopped scratching, keyboards fell quiet. Natalie froze, her fingers still brushing the delicate petals of the bouquet Daniel had just placed in her hands. The vibrant pinks and whites of the flowers suddenly felt like a blazing spotlight, marking her for some unknown crime. Daniel’s kind smile faltered, replaced by a look of utter confusion. “The Supreme Chairman?” he whispered, his voice low so only she could hear. “No one ever gets called up there. Especially not on their first day. Do you know him?” Natalie’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. She could only shake her head, her throat too tight to form words. She didn’t know the Supreme Chairman. She only knew Julian Vance, the CEO who had kissed her senseless last night, the man who was her husband. But were they one and the same? The CEO’s office was on the 80th floor. The summons was for the penthouse level, a place rumored to be the private domain of the mythical, unseen owner of the entire Vance empire. Whispers erupted around her like wildfire. “The Supreme Chairman? What could he possibly want with a new junior designer?” “She must have made a huge mistake already.” “I heard he’s ruthless. He fires people just for looking at him the wrong way.” The air thickened with speculation and a cruel sort of glee. Natalie felt her cheeks burn with humiliation. She had wanted a fresh start, a chance to prove herself, and not even three hours into her first day, she was being publicly summoned for what felt like an execution. Clutching the flowers to her chest like a shield, she stood on trembling legs. Daniel gave her a supportive, worried look. “It’s probably just a formality, a welcome meeting,” he offered, though his eyes told her he didn’t believe it for a second. Natalie forced a small, weak smile and began the long walk of shame toward the exclusive elevators at the far end of the floor. Every step felt a mile long, the hundred pairs of eyes following her progress a physical weight on her back. The sleek elevator doors slid open, and she stepped inside, the sudden silence of the car a deafening contrast to the storm of whispers she’d left behind. The elevator ascended with terrifying speed, the numbers climbing past the executive floors into uncharted territory. It finally slowed and opened with a soft chime onto a silent, marble-floored lobby. The entire level was stark, minimalist, and exuded a chilling aura of absolute power. A single, severe-looking woman in a sharp black suit stood waiting. “Ms. Hayes,” the woman said, her voice as cold as the marble. “The Chairman is waiting.” She led Natalie to a pair of massive, imposing doors made of a dark, polished wood that seemed to absorb all light. Without another word, the assistant opened one of the doors and gestured for Natalie to enter before closing it softly behind her, sealing her in. The office was breathtaking. It wasn’t an office; it was a kingdom. An entire wall was a single pane of glass, offering a god’s-eye view of the entire city sprawling beneath them. The space was vast, furnished with sleek, lethally elegant pieces that screamed money and power. And standing in the center of it all, his back to her as he gazed out at his domain, was Julian. The sight of him stole the air from her lungs. He wore a perfectly tailored black suit that hugged his broad shoulders, his posture radiating an intimidating authority that was a hundred times more potent here, in the heart of his empire. He didn’t have to be the Supreme Chairman; he simply *was*. He turned, slowly, and the warmth she had come to associate with his private presence was gone. His face was a mask of cold, chiseled fury. His silver-grey eyes weren’t stormy; they were arctic, fixed not on her face, but on the bright, cheerful bouquet of flowers in her hands. He started walking toward her. Each step was silent on the plush carpet but echoed in Natalie’s soul like a war drum. It was the deliberate, predatory grace of a panther closing in on its prey. Her breath hitched. She instinctively took a step back, her heel hitting the hard, unyielding wood of the door. Trapped. He was in front of her in an instant, crowding her space, caging her in by placing a hand flat against the door beside her head. His clean, masculine scent of sandalwood and something uniquely him—of power—filled her senses, making her head spin. He was so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body, a stark contrast to the ice in his gaze. “What is this?” His voice was a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through her very bones. His jaw was tight, a muscle ticking violently. His burning eyes never left the flowers. Natalie’s voice was a trembling whisper. “They’re… they’re flowers. A welcome gift. From a colleague… Daniel.” The mention of the name made something dark and violent flash in Julian’s eyes. With a swift, dismissive motion, he plucked the bouquet from her trembling grasp. He didn’t even glance at the beautiful blooms as he turned and dropped them into a nearby chrome wastebasket. They landed with a soft, muffled thud, a splash of vibrant color in a bin of stark black. He turned back, his gaze pinning her to the door. “You dared to accept flowers from another man?” The question was an accusation, sharp and possessive. It wasn’t the anger of a boss; it was the raw, primal jealousy of a husband. A thrill, terrifying and dizzying, shot through her veins, overriding her fear. “He was just being friendly,” she protested, her voice gaining a sliver of strength. “It was a welcome gesture, that’s all. Everyone was very kind.” “I don’t want his kindness,” Julian snarled, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just an inch from hers. His hot breath fanned across her skin. “The only man whose gestures you will accept is me. The only man who gives you anything is me. Do you understand, Natalie?” She was lost, drowning in the intensity of his silver eyes. All she could do was give a short, jerky nod. This was crazy. This was possessive and unreasonable and utterly… thrilling. He was jealous. For her. The realization sent a blush creeping up her neck, warming her entire body. She found her voice again, softening it, trying to soothe the beast she saw raging in his eyes. “Julian,” she whispered, her gaze locked on his. “It was only a courtesy. It meant nothing.” His expression didn’t change. The fire in his eyes only burned hotter. He stared at her lips for a long, charged moment, and then he closed the final inch between them. It wasn't a kiss; it was a brand. A fierce, possessive claiming that stole her breath and shattered her thoughts into a million shimmering pieces. His lips were firm and demanding against hers, moving with a deep, punishing rhythm that was meant to erase any memory of another man’s kindness. Her knees went weak, and her hands flew up to clutch the lapels of his suit jacket, her knuckles white as she held on for dear life. He tasted of power, of jealousy, and of an undeniable, all-consuming passion reserved only for her. Just as she thought she would melt into the floor, he pulled back, his eyes dark with emotion. He leaned in again, and she felt the sharp, possessive nip of his teeth on her bottom lip. The tiny sting sent a jolt of pure electricity through her entire body. He stared down at her, his voice a low, possessive growl that was both a threat and a promise. “This is your punishment. Do it again, and I’ll kiss you in front of the entire company.”

Chapter 9: Punished with Kisses