Obeying Mr Kane

Maeee

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####Chapter two: The new rules

Amara was the first one in the office Monday morning—again.

She hated how her body had started anticipating his presence, how her heart sprinted every time the elevator dinged, how she found herself reaching for perfume with trembling fingers.

It was stupid. Dangerous. And completely against everything she came here for.

She wasn’t supposed to want Dominic Kane.

She was supposed to destroy him.

“Still early,” a familiar, deep voice rumbled behind her.

She stiffened in her seat. “Some of us take punctuality seriously.”

Dominic Kane stepped into her space like he belonged there—and he did. The entire office, hell, the entire building bent around his presence.

He wore navy today. Sharp. Precise. Deadly.

He stopped behind her chair, hands tucked into his pockets, and leaned down until his mouth was level with her ear.

“Or maybe,” he murmured, “some of us are desperate to please.”

Amara turned slowly, lips curled. “Maybe some of us are arrogant enough to think they matter that much.”

He smirked. “You’ll learn soon enough.”

She stood abruptly, forcing him to step back. “Learn what, exactly?”

“That there are rules in this office,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “And you’ve broken most of them.”

She crossed her arms. “You mean the ones you made up just for me?”

“No, Ms. West,” he said, eyes sharp. “The ones that keep distractions from turning into disasters.”

He stepped closer again. “Let me ask you something.”

Amara’s throat tightened. “What?”

“Do you always play games with men in power?” he asked. “Or is it just me?”

Her heart pounded. “I don’t play games.”

He leaned in. “Then why did you wear red lipstick again?”

She swallowed. “It’s a color.”

“No,” he said, voice low. “It’s a weapon.”

She opened her mouth to fire back—but someone cleared their throat behind them.

Amara jolted. Dominic, infuriatingly unbothered, took a deliberate step away.

“Mr. Kane,” said Rebecca from HR, cheeks flushed. “The boardroom’s ready.”

“Of course,” he said, adjusting his cuffs. “Ms. West—walk with me.”

She hesitated. “To the boardroom?”

He smiled slightly. “You’re my assistant now. Or did you forget?”

---

Inside the Boardroom

The air in the boardroom was electric, thick with tension that had nothing to do with the quarterly numbers being discussed.

Amara sat just behind Dominic, silently taking notes, trying not to stare at the flex of his jaw or the way his hand curled over his pen.

Every time he spoke, others listened. Men twice his age fell silent. Women leaned forward. He was calm. Calculated. Merciless.

The meeting was chaos. But Dominic?

He was control.

And it terrified her how much that excited her.

Halfway through, he slid a note across the table toward her.

She opened it with trembling fingers.

> After this. My office. Shut the door behind you.

Her breath caught.

She glanced up to find him already looking at her. His mouth quirked. One brow raised.

Challenge issued.

---

Ten Minutes Later

The office door clicked shut behind her.

Amara stayed near it, arms crossed, heart racing.

“You summoned me,” she said, trying to sound bored.

Dominic stood by the window again, looking like something out of a fever dream. Tie loosened. Shirt sleeves rolled. That powerful, infuriating calmness settled around him like a second skin.

“Close the blinds,” he said.

She hesitated.

“Amara,” he said softly. “Close them.”

Her legs moved before her brain caught up. The office darkened slightly, wrapped in shadows.

He turned around slowly. “Come here.”

She stayed still.

His gaze sharpened. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Heat unfurled in her belly. She stepped forward, slow and steady, until she stood inches from him.

“What is this?” she whispered. “Some kind of twisted test?”

“Yes,” he said bluntly. “You’ve been a walking temptation since you stepped into my building. But I’ve ignored it.”

She swallowed hard. “And now?”

“Now,” he said, lifting a hand to trail a knuckle down her cheek, “I’m giving you a choice.”

Her breath caught.

“You can walk out,” he said. “Leave this office. Leave this game.”

“Or?”

“Or you stay. And obey. For as long as I let you.”

She was trembling.

He leaned in. “Which is it, Ms. West?”

She stared at him. At the man who represented everything she hated… and everything her body craved.

And then she reached up and unfastened the top button of her blouse.

His eyes flared. “That’s a yes?”

“It’s not a no,” she said.

---

But He Didn’t Touch Her

Not yet.

He watched her. Studied her. Then walked behind her and whispered into her ear:

“Three rules. Break them, and you’re gone.”

Amara's skin prickled.

“One,” he said, his breath a wicked ghost. “I give the orders.”

She nodded slowly.

“Two,” he continued, “we keep this out of the boardroom.”

“And three?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

He moved back around to face her.

“Don’t fall in love with me.”

She blinked. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “It’s the most important rule.”

She tilted her chin. “Afraid someone might actually crack your icy exterior?”

He smirked. “Afraid someone might expect more than I’m willing to give.”

“And what exactly are you willing to give?” she asked.

He leaned in. “Everything but my heart.”

---

The First Command

“Turn around,” he said.

She did.

“Put your hands on the desk.”

Her breath shook, but she obeyed.

He stepped close—so close—and brushed her hair aside.

But he didn’t touch her anywhere else.

“I’m going to make you wait,” he said. “Because patience is the first thing you’ll learn.”

She was panting now. “You’re cruel.”

“No,” he murmured. “I’m careful. And you…” His fingers finally touched her wrist, circling it. “You’re dangerous.”

He didn’t take her that day. Didn’t even kiss her.

He just left her trembling and aching and gasping for more.

And when she turned to look at him, his eyes were molten.

“This is your warning,” he said.

“Next time, I won’t stop.”

---

Two Days Later

They kept their distance in public.

But the air crackled every time they crossed paths.

When he passed behind her in meetings, she felt the heat of him at her back. When he barked orders, she caught the glint in his eyes only she could see.

That night, he called her into his office again.

She walked in, silent, breathless.

He gestured to the chair across from him.

“Sit,” he said. “And take out your phone.”

She frowned but obeyed.

He leaned back. “Go to your messages.”

Her fingers hovered.

“Type what I say,” he ordered.

She typed.

> I want you. But I shouldn’t.

He nodded. “Now send it.”

“To who?”