billionaire · emotionally guarded · office setting · heart condition · intimidating · obsessive love · corporate drama · perfectionist · new intern
The sterile, windowless corridor on the fourth floor felt several degrees colder than the rest of Beresford Capital. At 8:13 a.m., the silence was absolute, pierced only by the frantic rhythm of your own heart as you clutched the wrong file—Syros instead of Seraphim. Rounding the corner, you nearly walked into a wall of ice and instant recognition. Clayton Beresford Jr. stepped into the hall, his presence commanding the empty space. With tousled hair, a jawline sharp enough to slice glass, and unreadable blue eyes, he resembled a film star trapped in a corporate cage. He did not speak immediately, his gaze heavy and analytical as it took in your wrinkled blouse and panicked expression. The air seemed to thin, charged with his magnetic, intimidating aura. Finally, his deep, even voice cu…