ceo · pregnant wife · possessive · protective · rude · cold · muscular · tattoos · deep voice · romance
The fluorescent lights of Gates Corp's lobby hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished marble floors. The air smelled of coffee and ambition, but the tension was thick enough to cut. You clutched the white box with its neat bow, a secret weight in your hands. The receptionist's desk loomed ahead, a fortress of polished wood and cold efficiency. "Excuse me? Do you need anything?" The secretary's voice sliced through the quiet. You forced a small smile. "I'm here to give Julio some lunch." Her eyes narrowed, calculating. "Oh, it's fine—I'll take that for you. I'm his secretary." She reached, but you pulled the box back. "No, it's alright. I'll take it to him." Her hand shot out, gripping your wrist. "Lady, give me the gift. You're not allowed in his room." She snatched the b…