Look, I’ve been in some terrifying situations in my life.
I even once had to tell my landlord Vlad that his ceiling fell into my soup, and I once accidentally joined a live broadcast while wearing a mud mask.
But nothing—and I mean nothing—prepared me for the 42nd floor of Sterling Global Headquarters.
The elevator doors opened onto a floor made of pitch-black polished granite that looked like it actively sucked light out of the room.
And Sitting around a fifty-foot mahogany table were twelve men in five-thousand-dollar suits, looking like they were waiting for a blood sacrifice.
And right at the head of that table sat Julian Sterling.
If I thought Julian was intense in the back of a dark limo, right now he looked like a straight-up supervillain.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t blink.
He just sat there with his jacket unbuttoned, his massive, broad shoulders filling out his dark suit, leaning back in his leather chair like a king that was deciding who gets executed today.
The air around him was literally ice cold.
I’m pretty sure the guy on his left was visibly shivering.
“You’re late, Sterling,” Richard Montgomery barked from the far end of the table, holding a thick stack of legal documents.
“We are two minutes away from triggering the emergency vote to freeze your board authority.
Your fake Monaco matriarch isn’t going to save you from a hostile—” Clack.
Clack.
Clack.
That was the sound of my five-inch Italian leather heels striking the granite floor.
I swept into that boardroom wearing a custom emerald-green silk blazer, three strands of genuine South Sea pearls, giant black Chanel sunglasses, and a platinum-silver lace-front wig styled so high to the heavens it probably had its own gravitational pull.
“Who is breathing so loudly in here?” I demanded, my raspy European drawl echoing off the glass walls.
I didn’t look at Montgomery.
I didn’t look at the board.
“Julian, darling, why does this boardroom smell like old coffee and corporate desperation?
Did you hire the janitor to run your legal team?” Silence.
Pure, beautiful, absolute silence fell over the room.
Okay, Roxie, I told myself, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird.
You are a twenty-two-year-old drama major with four dollars in your checking account.
You do not fear men who wear hair plugs.
Execute the roast.
Julian didn’t even turn his head toward the board.
His dark, ruthless eyes slowly tracked me as I glided straight up to his seat and for a fraction of second, the icy, terrifying scowl on his handsome face twitched, replaced by that low, dangerous flicker of pure amusement.
“Gentlemen,” Julian’s voice echoed—low, deep, and utterly devoid of warmth.
It was the kind of voice that made grown executives sweat through their expensive shirts.
“This is Lady Sterling.
If any of you speak to her without her permission, I will personally dissolve your sub-committees by noon.” ‘Daaammn!
Okay, dramatic CEO energy, I see you.’ I clocked my finger tips in my thoughts.
Julian reached out, his long, heavy hand wrapping around the back of my leather chair.
He didn’t just point to it—he pulled it directly beside his own, so close our shoulders were practically touching.
When I sat down, I could feel the intense, radiating heat off his massive frame, completely contrasting the freezing air in the room.
While his fingers brushed against the back of my shoulder, a subtle, possessive touch that sent a violent shiver straight down my spine.
Focus, Roxie!
Stop thinking about how broad his back is!
You are an old lady from Monaco!
“Now then,” I drawled, tilting my dark lenses down to glare at Richard Montgomery.
“Which one of you middle-aged toddlers is Richard?
Is it you, silver hair?
You look like a man who cheats at golf.” Montgomery’s face turned an unspeakable shade of magenta pink.
“I am the majority shareholder of the Montgomery Group!
I have three injunctions against your family’s holding company, madam!” “Injunctions?” I scoffed, waving a lace-gloved hand in his face like I was brushing away a fly.
“Oh, sweetheart.
You brought paper to a knife fight?
How embarrassing for your wife.
Julian, give me his filing.” Julian didn’t say a word.
He just picked up Montgomery’s thick legal folder and slid it over to me.
His knuckles lightly grazed mine on the glass table, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that almost made me forget my own name.
I snatched the folder, flipped to page three, and I didn’t read a single line of legal jargon, and slammed it shut so hard the loud CRACK made three board members jump out of their skins.
“Trash,” I declared smoothly.
“Clause four is an insult to contract law.
Clause seven was clearly written by a summer intern who failed the bar exam twice.
And if you think my family is ceding board control to a man who wears off-the-rack cufflinks, you have severely lost your mind.” “That was written with a custom Montblanc pen and tailored—” Montgomery sputtered, rising out of his chair.
“Sit down before I buy your company and turn your office into a day spa!” I boomed, leaning forward on the table.
“Hand over the pen, Richard.
Consider it emotional compensation for making me ride an elevator with your energy.” Montgomery literally froze, looked at his four-thousand-dollar fountain pen, looked at Julian’s icy, deadpan expression, and slowly…
terrifyingly…
slid the pen across the glass table toward me.
I picked it up, shoved it straight into my vintage Chanel purse, and took a sip of Julian’s ice water.
Beside me, Julian leaned in close.
His breath brushed against the shell of my ear, sending a wave of goosebumps straight down my arms.
“Miss Fox,” he whispered, his voice a dark, dangerous rumble that vibrated through my entire chest.
“You just robbed a billionaire of his favorite pen in front of twelve witnesses.” “He owed me for the mental stress,” I whispered back through my static aristocratic smile, my heart pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.
“Tell me you have a bonus clause for armed robbery, CEO,” I whispered back through my static aristocratic smile, my heart pounding so hard against my ribs I was sure he could hear it.
Julian’s dark eyes darkened further.
The thumb resting on the back of my chair shifted slightly, his knuckle grazing the warm, bare skin of my neck just above my pearls.
“Win this room, Miss Fox,” he murmured, his low voice brushing against my ear like velvet and ice, “and I’ll give you whatever you want.” he murmured, his sharp jawline so close I could see the subtle, lethal smirk playing on his lips.
“Now finish him.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Bel_Rose Roxie really just robbed a billionaire of his Montblanc pen in front of twelve corporate executives!
The way Julian dragged her chair right beside his and threatened to dissolve sub-committees on the spot?
The power dynamic in that boardroom was ELECTRIC.
But that whisper in her ear…
the cold CEO is officially starting to burn.
Drop your favorite line from Roxie’s boardroom takeover in the comments!