Too Late Mr CEO: Watch Me Reign

Felicity slid the marriage proposal across the wide, black walnut desk.

The thick folder contained a daring proposition: a plan offering herself as the official marriage pawn to secure the Mckinney empire's strategic alliance with the Sterling family. It was a calculated gamble that also contained the end of her three-year secret existence. She kept her eyes locked on the man sitting opposite her, desperate to catch a single flicker of emotion on his face.

Ellsworth Mckinney didn't even blink.

His long, elegant fingers, currently holding a custom fountain pen, paused for a fraction of a second. He lifted his gaze. His dark eyes swept over her face with a crushing, suffocating pressure. A cold, cruel smirk touched the corner of his mouth.

Without a word, he picked up the proposal and dropped it directly into the paper shredder beside his desk.

The harsh, grinding noise of the machine devouring the thick paper was magnified in the dead silence of the CEO's office. Felicity's stomach plummeted. She dug her fingernails so hard into her palms that the skin threatened to break. She swallowed the bitter humiliation rising in her throat and forced herself to maintain eye contact with him.

Ellsworth stood up.

He walked slowly around the desk. His tall, broad-shouldered frame cast a heavy shadow that instantly enveloped her. He stopped inches away, the scent of his expensive cedar cologne mixing with the raw, dangerous tension in the room. He reached out, his thumb and forefinger gripping her chin in a vice-like hold. He forced her to tilt her head up.

"Don't play hard to get with me, Felicity," he warned, his deep voice dripping with mockery. "It doesn't suit you."

Felicity jerked her face away, her neck aching as she broke his grip. She turned her head stubbornly, refusing to let him see the moisture gathering in her eyes. The air between them crackled with a toxic, heavy sexual tension.

Suddenly, the intercom on his desk buzzed.

"Mr. Mckinney," his executive assistant's voice trembled through the speaker. "She's here. Camila is at JFK."

Ellsworth's entire body went rigid. His pupils contracted sharply. The muscles in his jaw ticked as he stared blankly at the intercom.

Felicity watched his reaction, her chest tightening as if a steel band were crushing her ribs. The intense anxiety pooling in her gut told her everything she needed to know.

Ellsworth didn't hesitate. He turned his back on her and grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair.

"Stay here," he ordered coldly, already walking toward the door. "Finish the quarterly reports before you leave."

He didn't even look at her pale, bloodless face.

The heavy oak door slammed shut with a deafening thud. Felicity's knees gave out. She collapsed onto the leather sofa, her lungs burning as she gasped for air. Her phone screen lit up on the coffee table. A breaking news notification flashed: Camila Gallegos spotted at JFK Airport. The blurry paparazzi photo of the woman in a