CRACKS AND CODE

FRAGILE BOUNDARIES

"Why did I have to hear about this from Ingrid at the board table? Why didn't you come to me the moment it was raised?"

Kaitu stiffened, heat crawling up her neck. "I... didn't think it was necessary. It seemed like something that would pass."

His jaw tightened. He leaned on the edge of his desk, arms crossed, but the steel in his posture softened slightly. "Nothing passes once it's put in Ingrid's hands. You should have known better."

Her chest tightened, a mix of shame and anticipation. She'd expected anger, harsh words, maybe even dismissal, but the warmth flickering under his control made her pulse race.

"You know," he said, voice low, almost reluctant, "the board spent twenty minutes talking about your hair. Your hair. Do you realize how absurd that is?"

Her lips parted, ready to respond, but he didn't let her. He straightened, gaze lingering just long enough to send a jolt through her.
"For what it's worth..." His tone softened, careful, almost intimate. "...I think it's beautiful. The neatness, the strength, it suits you. Frankly, I'd take that over every fake wig in this building."

Kaitu blinked, then arched a brow, a sly smile tugging at her lips. "Well, in that case, should I add 'approved by the CEO' to my style credits?"

A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth, dangerous in its warmth. "I mean, if complimenting my employees is not against policy, why not?"

Her lips quirked, despite herself. "If it is against policy, then I'm not reporting you. Some crimes are worth keeping silent about."

Her quip hit him harder than it should have. He dragged a hand over his face like he was trying to scrub the reaction off, then let out a breath that came out rougher than intended. When he looked at her again, his composure was cracked.
He pushed off from the desk, closing the distance between them. Her heart thudded as his presence filled the space.

"You put me in a difficult spot today," he murmured, voice low but not harsh. His eyes drifted to her hair, fingers reaching out almost involuntarily. "But then again... you always do."

He hesitated, then coiled a lock of her dreadlocks around his fingers, testing its weight, brushing it slowly through his hand. Kaitu's breath hitched; her pulse thundered. Her body seemed to forget how to move, held in place by the warmth, the closeness, the sheer intensity of him.

"They spent a whole meeting trying to condemn this," he murmured, a faint smirk tugging his lips. "And here I am, wishing the meeting had gone longer so I could... keep staring at it."

Kaitu's mind went blank. Her chest tightened. He's touching my hair. My dreadlocks. And he... he's smiling?

"Mr. Makori..." she breathed.

"Max," he corrected, eyes glinting, hand still playing with a coil of her hair. "At least when we're alone."

The scent of her hair; warm, faintly honeyed, drifted into his senses. He leaned slightly closer. "I've always wanted to do this... touch your hair. It smells... incredible."

Kaitu's pulse spiked, a flush creeping up her neck. Her hands twitched at her sides before she caught herself. Focus, Kaitu, focus!

"You should've told me, Kaitu," he murmured, voice husky, "I would've shut it down before it reached the board. But you didn't... and now I'm left wondering whether you don't trust me, or whether you just enjoy making me lose my composure."

"I didn't think my hair would be that important to you," she said, eyes lifting to meet his.

His hand drifted back to her hair, fingers sliding through the neat locks with deliberate care. "You think I don't notice?" His voice dropped lower, intimate. "The way this... frames your face. Makes it impossible not to look at you."