CRACKS AND CODE

TORN IN BETWEEN

Maxwell's office was quiet, the faint hum of the city drifting in from beyond the glass. He had a meeting with Kaitu at 11:00 a.m., and she arrived right on time; crisp, composed, a folder in hand.

The moment she stepped through the door, his focus shifted. Her beautiful dreadlocks framed her face like a crown, each strand catching the morning light. The tailored dress she wore moved with quiet grace; modest, yet undeniably elegant. Her golden-brown skin seemed to hold its own warmth, a soft radiance that made the muted tones of his office feel colder by comparison.

He told himself to look away. He should've. A small voice in his spirit reminded him to. Guard your heart, Maxwell. But for a breath too long, he didn't.

It wasn't desire alone that held his gaze, it was the calm strength she carried, the composure that seemed forged in fire. Still, he exhaled slowly, pulling himself back to order, his mind tightening around the discipline that had built empires.

"Mr. Makori?"
Her voice; clear, steady, snapped him back to the moment. And for the first time, he noticed the faint bruise near her lip, almost hidden unless you were looking too closely. But Maxwell was trained to see what others missed.

He pushed back his chair, came around the desk, and stopped in front of her. Close. Too close. Before sense could stop him, his hand lifted and his fingers brushed softly against the bruise.

Kaitu froze. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, betraying her even as she tried to remain still. His touch was barely there, but it burned all the same. She hated how much she felt that touch linger even after his hand had dropped.

"What happened?" His voice was low, dangerous with the anger he kept caged.
Her eyes flickered, then steadied. "It's nothing. I tripped. Clumsy."
His jaw tightened. He didn't believe her. Not even slightly. "Ms. Makinia," he said, softer this time, his tone edged with something deeper. "If someone put that mark on you, you tell me. You don't have to carry it alone. I'd protect you."

Her chest tightened, but a faint, teasing smirk touched her lips. "Ooh... didn't know you have so much concern for me."

Maxwell's jaw flexed, the softness vanishing instantly. He stepped back, voice sharpening, commanding. "This isn't about concern. You're part of this company now, Ms. Makinia. And I know you like chaos. I cannot afford to have you playing games, getting yourself in trouble at the expense of my business's reputation. If there's anything you've gotten yourself into, you'd better speak up now, so I can mitigate it before it blows up."

Her eyes flickered with defiance, but she didn't flinch. "You worry too much, sir. I'm here to stop the breach, not cause one."

He held her gaze for a long moment, the tension between them crackling, a dangerous mix of authority, attraction, and unspoken challenge before going back to his seat.
"I hear you've been burning the midnight oil."

Her lips curved faintly, though her tone stayed all business. "Your system is bleeding data," she said, stepping forward and placing the thin folder squarely on his desk. "I'm not here to clock hours. I'm here to stop the breach. But before we get to that, I have a small request."

Maxwell leaned back slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "A request already?"

She smiled faintly. "Consider it a professional courtesy."

"Hmm," he said, the corners of his mouth lifting. "I don't trade in courtesies, Ms. Makinia. But I do listen, when the cause is worth it."

"You remember the networking event next month?"

"Of course," he said, tilting his head, studying her. "Hope you'll still be able to come. Great opportunity to meet influential people, expand your network."