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The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
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Chapter 1 Olivia's POV I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get your ass over here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigarette." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigarette, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the hell was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia's POV Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fucking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fucking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just sex. Great sex, but still just sex." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fucking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing bitch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fucking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your dick in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fucking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tits. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia's POV My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty bitch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These bitches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "Bastard nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his dick fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia's POV The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fucking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fucking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slutty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander's POV I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like hell it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fucking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cunt," Nova breathed. "I hope his dick falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger dick and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like your ass was on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs. ========= 👉 (When you open the App, it will automatically jump to the book.)
Chapter 1 Olivia's POV I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get your ass over here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigarette." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigarette, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the hell was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia's POV Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fucking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fucking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just sex. Great sex, but still just sex." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fucking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing bitch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fucking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your dick in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fucking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tits. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia's POV My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty bitch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These bitches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "Bastard nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his dick fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia's POV The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fucking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fucking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slutty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander's POV I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like hell it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fucking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cunt," Nova breathed. "I hope his dick falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger dick and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like your ass was on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs. ========= 👉 (When you open the App, it will automatically jump to the book.)
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I slumped against the passenger seat as Ryan's car cruised through the palm-lined streets of Los Angeles. My eyelids felt heavy after a twelve-hour shift at Carter Enterprises. The quarterly marketing campaign required us all to work overtime, and as a junior marketing executive, I was stuck with weekend work. "You still with me, babe?" Ryan glanced over, his perfectly styled dark hair catching the sunset's glow. "Barely." I stifled a yawn. "Remind me why we're going to this party when I could be face-planting into my pillow right now?" "Because Sophia would kill you if you missed her birthday." He reached over and squeezed my knee. "And because you look stunning in that dress I bought for you." I glanced down at the black cocktail dress he'd insisted I wear. The neckline plunged lower than I'd normally choose, and the hemline rode high enough to make me self-conscious every time I sat down. Ryan had shown up at my apartment with the dress in a boutique bag, eyes gleaming with anticipation as I'd tried it on. "I still think it's a bit much for a birthday party," I tugged at the fabric, trying to cover more of my chest. "Liv, we've been dating for two years. I know what looks good on you better than you do. Trust me, every guy at this party will wish he was me tonight." "Is that what this is about? Marking your territory?" "Can you blame me?" He winked as he turned onto Sophia's street, where luxury cars lined both sides. Sophia's recently purchased triplex stood illuminated against the darkening sky, music pulsing from within. For someone only turning twenty-five, she'd done remarkably well for herself in real estate development. Ryan found a spot half a block away and cut the engine. "Ready to make an entrance, Ms. Morgan?" "As I'll ever be." I grabbed my purse and the gift bag containing the vintage champagne Ryan had suggested we bring. The cool evening air hit my bare shoulders as I stepped out of the car, making me shiver. Ryan's arm slid around my waist, his hand resting dangerously low on my hip. "See? Worth getting dressed up for." He nodded toward the house. "This place is insane." We walked up the curved driveway where twinkling lights had been strung through the palm trees. The front door stood open, spilling light, music, and laughter onto the porch. "Olivia! You made it!" Sophia appeared in the doorway, resplendent in a gold sequined dress. "I was starting to think you'd stood me up!" "My work tried its best to keep me away," I laughed, accepting her enthusiastic hug. "Happy birthday, Soph." "And Ryan, looking delicious as always." She air-kissed his cheeks. "Come in, come in! Everyone's already two drinks ahead of you." Ryan's hand pressed against the small of my back as we entered the foyer, which opened to a massive great room where at least thirty people mingled. The space featured floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the twinkling Los Angeles skyline. "Drink?" Ryan asked, already scanning the room. "God, yes. The strongest thing they've got." He chuckled. "That's my girl. Be right back." As Ryan disappeared toward the bar setup, I heard a familiar squeal from across the room. "Olivia Morgan, get youras.sover here!" I turned to see Emilia waving frantically from a plush sectional sofa. My best friend since college was already flushed from alcohol, her blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders. "Em!" I navigated through clusters of guests to reach her. "How long have you been here?" "Long enough to know the bartender's life story." She stood, wobbling slightly in her heels, and embraced me. She pulled back, holding me at arm's length to examine my outfit. "Holy shit, your boobs look amazing in that dress. Did Ryan pick it out?" I felt my cheeks warm. "Is it that obvious?" "Only because I've known you for eight years, and you've never willingly shown that much cleavage." She smirked. "Not that I'm complaining. If I had your rack, I'd show it off, too." "Could you say that a little louder? I don't think everyone in Malibu heard you." "Sorry, can't help it. You're too easy to embarrass." Emilia's eyes danced with mischief as she took another sip of her drink. "By the way, have you seen our birthday girl? I swear she was here greeting people and then just... vanished." I scanned the crowded room. "No, actually. Where did Ryan go? He was supposed to be getting me a drink." "Maybe he's outside? I saw some people heading to the back lawn earlier." Emilia shrugged. "Or he could be sneaking a cigaret.te." I narrowed my eyes. "He told me he quit three months ago. If I catch him smoking after all that 'I'm done with nicotine forever, baby' bullshit, I'll kill him myself." "Men lie about the stupidest things. Like, just admit you still smoke and save us both the drama." "I'm going to find him," I said, tugging at my dress, which had ridden up dangerously high. "If he's outside with a cigaret.te, I'm putting it on his favorite shoes." "That's my girl." Emilia raised her glass. "I'll be right here judging everyone's outfit choices when you get back." I weaved through the crowded living room, nodding at half-familiar faces from past gatherings. The kitchen was jammed with people mixing drinks. No Ryan. The back patio held a group playing some drinking games with shots and ping pong balls. No Ryan among them. "Looking for someone?" A tall guy with a man-bun approached, his eyes dropping to my cleavage before meeting my gaze. "My boyfriend. Tall, dark hair, probably looking smug about something." He laughed. "Haven't seen him. But I'd be happy to keep you company until he shows up." "Hard pass, but thanks." I turned away, irritation building. Where the heck was Ryan with my drink? I climbed the modern floating staircase to the next floor, where the noise from the party became more muffled. The hallway was dimly lit and had several closed doors. A sound caught my attention – a moan? A laugh? Something between the two. It was faint, coming from further down the hall. The sound came again, more distinct this time. Definitely a moan. Great. A couple had found a private spot to hook up at Sophia's party. How classy. I was about to turn back when I noticed a slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway, a sliver of light spilling onto the hardwood floor. Something compelled me forward – curiosity, or perhaps a sixth sense I didn't know I had. As I approached, the sounds became clearer. A woman's voice, breathless and urgent: "Fuck, yes, right there." I froze. The voice was familiar. A male voice responded, low and commanding: "You like that, don't you? Tell me how much you want it." My stomach dropped. Ryan's voice. I should have turned away, run down those stairs, and straight out the front door. Instead, I moved closer, pushing the door open wider. The scene burned into my retinas like a brand. Sophia bent over her dresser; her gold dress pushed up around her waist. Ryan was behind her, his pants around his ankles, hands gripping her hips as he thrust into her. "Harder," Sophia gasped. "Make me feel it tomorrow." "What the fuck?" The words escaped me before I could stop them. They both froze. Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. Chapter 2 Olivia Ryan's head whipped around, his eyes widening with shock. For a moment, time suspended itself. My lungs refused to work, and the room seemed to tilt sideways. "Liv—" Ryan stammered, still connected to Sophia. "This isn't—" "What it looks like?" I finished, my voice surprisingly steady despite the earthquake happening inside me. "Because it looks like you're fcking my friend on her birthday while I wait downstairs for a drink that's never coming." Sophia turned her head, meeting my gaze without a hint of shame. She didn't even bother to adjust her dress; she just rested her elbows on the dresser and sighed like I'd interrupted a business meeting. "Oh, Olivia," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. "Did you think a man like Ryan would be satisfied with just you?" Ryan finally pulled away from her, fumbling to pull up his pants. "Baby, please, this is just a... a thing. It doesn't mean anything." "A thing?" I repeated, heat rising to my face. "How long has this 'thing' been happening?" Before either could answer, I heard footsteps behind me. "Liv? Did you find—" Emilia's voice cut off as she appeared at my side, taking in the scene. "Holy fcking shit." Ryan's face paled further. "This isn't what—" "If you say 'this isn't what it looks like' one more time, I swear to God I will castrate you with my bare hands," Emilia snapped, her arm wrapping protectively around my shoulders. Sophia straightened up, finally adjusting her dress with leisurely movements. She tossed her hair back and had the audacity to smirk. "Ryan and I have an understanding. It's just se.x. Great se.x, but still just se.x." "An understanding?" I laughed, the sound brittle and foreign to my ears. "And when exactly were you planning to include me in this understanding? After you gave me chlamydia, or before?" "Don't be dramatic," Ryan said, tucking in his shirt. "We've been careful." "Oh, careful! Well, that makes it all better then!" I threw my hands up. "You've been carefully fcking my friend behind my back. Such consideration!" Sophia leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. "We're all adults here. Monogamy is so... limiting, don't you think?" Emilia stepped forward. "The only thing limiting around here is your moral compass, you backstabbing b!tch." "Watch it," Sophia warned, her eyes narrowing. "Or what? You'll sleep with my boyfriend too? Get in line." Emilia turned to Ryan. "And you. You pathetic excuse for a man. Two years? Two fcking years of her life wasted on you?" Ryan finally managed to buckle his belt. "Liv, baby, please. We can talk about this. It's just physical. It doesn't change how I feel about you." "You feel so much for me that you bought me this dress." I gestured to my outfit. "So, I could be downstairs putting on a show for your friends while you're up here with your d!ck in Sophia?" "The dress looks amazing on you," he offered weakly. I stared at him in disbelief. "That's what you're going with right now? Fashion compliments?" "I'm just saying—" "No, I'm done listening to what you're 'just saying.'" I turned to leave, then spun back. "Two years, Ryan. Two years of me rearranging my schedule for you and believing every word out of your mouth. Was any of it real?" He took a step toward me. "Of course, it was real. I love you, Liv." "Spare me," I spat. "If this is your version of love, I want nothing to do with it." Sophia sighed dramatically. "Can we wrap this up? I have guests downstairs." "You have one less now," I said, turning away. "Enjoy your birthday present. You two deserve each other." Emilia shot them both a final glare before following me out. We marched down the hallway, my legs somehow carrying me forward despite feeling like they might collapse. "I've got you," Emilia whispered, her arm still around me as we descended the stairs. The party continued below us, oblivious to the implosion that had just occurred upstairs. The music seemed too loud now, the laughter too jarring. We pushed through the crowd toward the front door. Someone called my name, but I kept moving, my eyes fixed on the exit. The cool night air hit my face as we stepped outside, and only then did I realize I was shaking. We made it to the sidewalk when I heard the front door open behind us. I refused to look back. "Olivia!" Ryan called out. "Wait!" Emilia turned, positioning herself between us like a shield. "Go back to your birthday girl, asshole." "This is between me and Liv," he insisted but made no move to follow us. "There is no 'me and Liv' anymore," I called back, still walking. "We're done." His response was lost as we rounded the corner, the sounds of the party fading behind us. Once out of sight, my composure crumbled. I stopped walking, my breath coming in gasps. "I can't believe…I can't…" I pressed my hand to my mouth. "I know, honey. I know." Emilia pulled me into a hug. "Let it out." "Two years," I whispered against her shoulder. "Two fcking years." She stroked my hair. "I'm so sorry, Liv." I pulled back, wiping angrily at my eyes. "Did you know? About them?" Emilia hesitated. "Not for sure. But I had my suspicions." "What? Why didn't you say anything?" She sighed, fishing her phone from her purse. "I saw them at Barton's Café last month. They said they'd run into each other, but it seemed... off. The way they were sitting, the way he touched her arm. I didn't want to say anything without proof. I didn't want to hurt you if I was wrong." "Well, now we have proof," I said bitterly. "Let me call us a cab," Emilia said, tapping her phone. "My car's not here. Jake dropped me off." I hugged myself against the chill, suddenly aware of how exposed I felt in the dress Ryan had chosen. "No cabs available. Let's walk a bit. I'll keep trying for a ride and call Jake. Maybe he can pick us up." "Fine by me." I just wanted to get as far away from Sophia's house as possible. "I'd walk to Mexico now if it meant never seeing Ryan again." We started down the sidewalk, my heels clicking against the concrete. The neighborhood was upscale, with sprawling houses set back from the road, but the street itself was poorly lit. The rumble of an engine cut her off as a convertible slowed beside us. Four guys crowded inside, the stench of alcohol wafting our way. The driver leaned over, his eyes crawling over my body before settling on my chest. "Hey, babes, want a ride?" He grinned, revealing a gold tooth. "We got plenty of room on our laps." His friends burst into laughter. The one in the passenger seat raised a bottle. "We're celebrating! Don't you wanna celebrate with us?" "Fuck off," Emilia snapped, pulling me closer. "Ooh, feisty!" The driver killed the engine. "I like feisty." One guy, thick-necked with a tribal tattoo, vaulted over the door. He staggered toward us, pointing at Emilia. "You got a mouth on you, blondie. Let's see what else it can do." Before I could react, he lunged forward and grabbed Emilia by her hair, yanking her head back. She screamed, clawing at his arm. "Let her go!" I shouted, my marketing executive persona vanishing as pure rage took over. I swung my purse, connecting with his temple. He stumbled but kept his grip on Emilia's hair. "Your friend wants to play rough, huh?" He leered at me, eyes fixed on my chest. "Nice tit.s. Bet they bounce real good." Chapter 3 Olivia My fist throbbed from connecting with the guy's head, but it hadn't done enough. Emilia whimpered as he yanked her hair harder, forcing her head back at an unnatural angle. "Let her go, you piece of shit!" I hissed, fear and fury colliding in my chest. "Or what?" He laughed, his breath reeking of whiskey. "You gonna hit me with your little purse again?" The other men from the car were climbing out now, their movements predatory as they circled around us. The driver, with his gold tooth catching the dim streetlight, stepped toward me. "C'mon baby, we just wanna have some fun." His eyes never left my chest. "You're dressed like you want attention. We're just giving you what you want." "I want you to let my friend go and fuck off back to whatever sewer you crawled out of," I spat, backing away until I felt a tree behind me. "Ooh, she's got a mouth on her too," said another shorter but broad-shouldered guy wearing a baseball cap. "I like that. Makes it more fun when they fight a little." The driver reached for me, his fingers grazing my arm. I slapped his hand away. "Don't touch me!" "Playing hard to get?" He moved closer, pinning me against the tree. "That's cute." Emilia was still struggling against Tribal Tattoo's grip. "Liv, run! Just run!" "I'm not leaving you," I said, looking desperately around for anything I could use as a weapon. The driver pressed his body against mine; one hand braced on the tree beside my head. "Your friend's not going anywhere, and neither are you." His other hand reached for my breast. "Let's see if these feel as good as they look." I brought my knee up hard, aiming for his groin, but he twisted away at the last second. My knee glanced off his thigh. "Feisty b!tch!" He grabbed my wrist, squeezing until I gasped in pain. Headlights suddenly illuminated the scene as another car screeched to a halt beside us. The engine cut off, and the driver's door opened. "Is there a problem here?" A deep voice cut through the night. A tall figure emerged from the shadows into the spill of a distant streetlight. Broad-shouldered and imposing in what looked like an expensive suit, he moved with a quiet confidence that commanded attention. "Mind your own business, man," Gold Tooth snarled, but I noticed he'd loosened his grip on my wrist. The newcomer stepped closer, and I caught my breath. Even in the dim light, I recognized him immediately. Alexander Carter. My boss's boss's boss. The CEO of Carter Enterprises, where I'd been working as a junior marketing executive for the past eight months. "I believe these ladies were telling you to leave them alone," he said, his voice calm but edged with steel. "I suggest you listen." Gold Tooth sneered. "What are you gonna do about it? There's four of us and one of you." Alexander didn't even blink. "True. But I've already called the police, and they're on their way. I'm sure they'd be interested to know about four drunk men assaulting two women on a public street." Tribal Tattoo finally released Emilia's hair, shoving her forward. "Whatever, man. These b!tches ain't worth the trouble." Emilia stumbled toward me, and I caught her, pulling her close. "You okay?" I whispered. She nodded, rubbing her scalp. "bastrd nearly ripped my hair out." Gold Tooth took a step toward Carter, puffing out his chest. "You think you're some kind of hero? Rich boy in his fancy car?" Alexander simply stared him down, not moving an inch. "I think I'm someone who doesn't want to see two women harassed by drunken idiots. Now, you can leave on your own, or you can wait for the police. Your choice." For a tense moment, I thought Gold Tooth might throw a punch. Instead, he spat on the ground near Alexander's polished shoes. "Let's go," he muttered to his friends. "These sluts aren't worth jail time." They piled back into their convertible, engine roaring to life. Gold Tooth revved it aggressively before peeling away, tires screeching. Alexander turned to us. "Are you both all right?" Up close, he was even more intimidating than he was at company events. Tall, with sharp features and piercing gray eyes, he had the kind of face that belonged in business magazines, where it often appeared. Despite the late hour, his dark hair was neatly styled, not a strand out of place. "We're okay," I managed, suddenly conscious of my appearance: disheveled hair, makeup probably smeared from crying earlier, and this ridiculous dress that now felt like a terrible mistake. "Thank you for stopping." "Do you need a ride somewhere?" he asked, his eyes briefly dropping to my chest before snapping back to my face. "Our cab canceled," Emilia said, still rubbing her scalp. "And my boyfriend's not answering his phone." Alexander gestured to his car, a sleek black car. "I'm happy to drive you both home." I hesitated. This was Alexander Carter, the man who signed my paychecks and whose name was on the building where I worked. The man was known for his ruthless business tactics and cold demeanor. The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was one of his employees, especially looking like this. "That's very kind," I said carefully, "but we don't want to impose." "It's no imposition," he replied. "I'd rather not leave you out here after what just happened." Emilia looked at me with raised eyebrows, silently communicating: "Are you crazy? Free ride in a sleek car with a hot, rich guy? Say yes!" "If you're sure it's not too much trouble," I relented. "Not at all." He opened the backseat door. "Please." The car's interior was all black leather and gleaming surfaces. It smelled of expensive cologne and a new car, a heady combination that made my head spin—or maybe that was the adrenaline crash. "I'm Alexander Carter," he said as he slid behind the wheel. "Olivia," I replied, deliberately omitting my last name. "And this is Emilia." "Pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances." He started the engine, which purred to life. "Where am I taking you?" Emilia gave him her address first, and then I gave him mine. "Rough night?" he asked as we pulled away from the curb. Emilia snorted. "You could say that. We were at a birthday party where Liv caught her boyfriend banging the birthday girl." "Emilia!" I hissed, mortified. Alexander's eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror. "I see. I'm sorry to hear that." "It's fine," I mumbled, wishing I could disappear into the leather seat. "It's not fine," Emilia insisted. "Ryan is a cheating scumbag who deserves to have his d!ck fall off." A small smile tugged at the corner of Alexander's mouth. "I take it Ryan is the ex-boyfriend?" "As of about a few minutes ago, yes," I confirmed, wondering why I was discussing my love life with my CEO. "Well, for what it's worth," he said, his eyes meeting mine briefly in the mirror again, "he sounds like an idiot." Chapter 4 Olivia The car fell silent as we drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the city lights blurring past the windows. I studied Alexander's profile, the strong jaw, and straight nose, wondering why he'd stopped to help us. Everything I'd heard about him at work painted him as cold, distant, focused only on the bottom line. We reached Emilia's apartment building first. Alexander pulled up to the curb, the engine purring quietly as he shifted into park. "This is me," Emilia announced, gathering her purse. She leaned over to hug me, using the moment to whisper in my ear. "Holy fuck, Liv. He's hot as balls. If he wants to bang you senseless tonight, you better fcking do it. The best way to get over Ryan is to get under the CEO. Shit, those hands look like they know what they're doing." I pulled back, shooting her a death glare that could have melted steel. "What?" she mouthed innocently before turning to Alexander. "Thanks for the ride, knight in shining Armani. You're a lifesaver." "It was no trouble," he replied politely. Emilia opened the door, then paused to give me one last meaningful look. "Call me tomorrow with ALL the details." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Goodbye, Emilia," I said firmly, my cheeks burning. She blew me a kiss and slammed the door, sauntering toward her building with a little extra sway in her hips, no doubt for Alexander's benefit. As we pulled away, I sank deeper into the leather seat, mortified. "I'm so sorry about her. She has no filter." Alexander's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. "No need to apologize. She seems like a good friend." "The best," I admitted. "Even if she occasionally makes me want to strangle her." His lips quirked upward, almost a smile but not quite. "Those are often the best kinds of friends." We lapsed into silence as he navigated through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights streamed past the windows, creating a kaleidoscope effect that matched my swirling thoughts. I caught Alexander glancing at me in the mirror a few times, his expression unreadable. "Left at the next light," I directed as we approached my neighborhood. He nodded, making the turn smoothly. "Here we are," he announced, pulling up to my apartment building. It wasn't fancy by LA standards but clean and in a decent area. I could just barely afford it on my junior executive salary. He turned off the engine and, to my surprise, got out to open my door. His hand extended to help me out, warm and solid as I took it. The contact sent an unexpected jolt up my arm. "Thank you again," I said, reluctantly letting go of his hand. "For everything tonight." Alexander studied me for a moment, his gray eyes intense. "I hope you're able to move past what happened tonight. Your boyfriend, or rather your ex-boyfriend, clearly didn't appreciate what he had." The unexpected kindness in his voice made my throat tighten. "I'll be fine," I managed. "I'm sure you will," he agreed. "Someone like you won't stay single for long unless you want to." I wasn't sure how to respond to that. Was Alexander Carter, CEO of Carter Enterprises, flirting with me? No, that was ridiculous. He was just being polite. "Goodnight, Olivia," he said, stepping back toward his car. "Goodnight, Alexander. And thank you for the ride." He nodded once, then slid back into his car. I watched as he drove away, his taillights disappearing around the corner before I turned and entered my building. The elevator ride to my fourth-floor apartment felt endless. My keys jangled in my shaking hands as I unlocked my door, stepping into the darkness of my living room. I flipped on the light, tossed my purse on the counter, and kicked off my heels. The silence of my apartment pressed in around me. Just hours ago, I'd been getting ready for what I thought would be a normal night out with my boyfriend. Now, everything had changed. I peeled off the black cocktail dress and threw it in the trash. Never again would I wear something just because a man told me it looked good on me. In my bathroom, I scrubbed off my makeup. The woman in the mirror looked tired, her eyes red-rimmed but clear. I pulled on an oversized t-shirt and fell onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed on the nightstand, probably Ryan finally realizing what he'd lost. I ignored it. Why had he done it? Two years together, and he throws it all away for Sophia? Had he been sleeping with her all along? The signs had been there: the late nights at work, the sudden business trips, the way his phone was always face-down when I was around. I'd trusted him completely. What a fool I'd been. My phone buzzed again. This time, I glanced at it. Emilia. "You home safe? Did Mr. CEO make a move? Please say yes." I texted back: "Yes, I'm home. No, he didn't. Go to sleep." Her response was immediate: "Boring! But seriously, you okay?" "I will be," I replied and realized I meant it. I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and stared at the ceiling, my mind racing despite my exhaustion. Sleep seemed impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ryan thrusting into Sophia, her smug face, his pathetic excuses. "Fuck," I whispered to the empty room. "Two years down the drain." I rolled over, burying my face in my pillow. Two years of holidays, family gatherings, inside jokes—all tainted now. But something else kept intruding on my thoughts: Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes in the rearview mirror. Alexander Carter. My CEO. The man I'd just met while looking like a complete disaster. "He probably won't even remember me tomorrow," I muttered, flipping onto my back again. "Why would he? He's Alexander fcking Carter." The ceiling offered no answers. I'd worked at Carter Enterprises for eight months and never once spoken to him. I'd seen him striding through the lobby, standing at podiums during company-wide meetings, his face on the company website and annual reports. Always distant. Always untouchable. And now he'd seen me at my absolute worst, heartbroken in a slvtty dress. "Great first impression, Olivia. Really professional." I snorted at my own sarcasm. It was as if Alexander Carter would ever connect the disheveled woman he'd rescued with Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. Our worlds didn't intersect. He inhabited the executive floor with its panoramic views of Los Angeles. At the same time, I worked in my cubicle fifteen floors below, crafting social media campaigns for products I could barely afford. I pulled the covers over my head, trying to force sleep to come. But my brain had other ideas, conjuring an image of running into Alexander in the office elevator. Would he recognize me? Would I have the courage to thank him again? Would he look at me with those intense gray eyes and see past the professional facade to the woman he'd rescued? "As if," I mumbled into my pillow. "He probably rescues women from creeps every weekend. It's probably a rich guy's hobby." But what if he did remember me? What if our paths crossed in the office cafeteria or during a presentation? What would I say? Chapter 5 Alexander I parked my car in the circular driveway of my parent's estate, taking a moment to prepare myself for the inevitable Carter family dynamics. Sunday dinner at the Carter mansion, a tradition as old as the oak trees lining the property, was something I both dreaded and looked forward to. The mansion stood like a monument to old money, with stone façades and manicured gardens that screamed, "We've had wealth for generations." My phone buzzed with an email from work, but I ignored it. Work could wait, but family obligations couldn't, especially when Grandfather Harold was involved. I straightened my tie and headed inside, where Martha, our longtime housekeeper, greeted me with a warm smile. "Mr. Alexander, everyone's waiting in the drawing room. Your grandfather arrived early." That was never a good sign. Grandfather arriving early meant he had an agenda. "Is Victoria here?" I asked, handing Martha my coat. "Yes, sir. With her husband. They arrived about an hour ago." Perfect. My cousin Victoria and her investment banker husband Thomas, the power couple who never let anyone forget how perfect their life was. The drawing room buzzed with conversation that stopped when I entered. Mother rose from her seat, elegant as always in her pearl necklace and tailored dress. "Alexander, darling. We were beginning to worry." I kissed her cheek. "Traffic was terrible. Sorry, I'm late." Father nodded from his armchair, whiskey in hand. "Son." That was Father, a man of few words unless discussing business or golf. Victoria sat perched on the antique sofa, her husband's arm draped around her shoulder in that possessive way I found irritating. My sister Valentina was there, too, scrolling through her phone. But it was Grandfather Harold who commanded the room from his wheelchair. At seventy-eight, he might have lost some mobility but none of his mental sharpness or business acumen. "Alexander," he barked. "Sit down. We need to talk." I took a seat across from him. "Good to see you too, Grandfather." "Don't get smart with me, boy. I've been waiting." Victoria smirked. "Some of us manage to arrive on time, cousin dear." I ignored her. "What's this about? I thought this was just dinner." Grandfather Harold waved his hand dismissively. "Dinner can wait. This is about the future of Carter Enterprises." The room fell silent. When Grandfather talked about the company's future, everyone paid attention. He'd built Carter Enterprises from a small family business into a corporate empire and, at seventy-eight, still held the controlling stake. "I've been updating my will," he announced. Mother gasped softly. Father set down his whiskey. "Oh, relax; I'm not dying yet," Grandfather snapped. "Just getting my affairs in order. And I've made some decisions about the company shares." I leaned forward. As CEO, I had a significant stake in the company, but Grandfather's controlling shares would eventually determine who truly ran Carter Enterprises. "Alexander," he fixed his steely gaze on me. "You've done well as CEO. Profits are up. The board is happy. But there's something missing." "Missing?" I frowned. "Our last quarter was our best in five years." "I'm not talking about business." He thumped his cane on the floor. "I'm talking about family. Stability. A legacy." Victoria's husband coughed discreetly. Victoria's smile widened. "What exactly are you saying, Grandfather?" Harold Carter leaned forward in his wheelchair. "I'm saying that to inherit my controlling shares in Carter Enterprises, you need to be married within six months." The room exploded in reactions. Mother gasped again. Father actually put down his drink. Valentina looked up from her phone. Victoria burst into delighted laughter. "Married?" I stared at him. "You can't be serious." "Dead serious." Grandfather's expression didn't change. "Carter Enterprises has always been family-run. Family means stability. Commitment." "I'm committed to the company!" "But not to anything or anyone else." Grandfather shook his head. "You're thirty-three, Alexander. Your relationships last shorter than some of our quarterly reports." Victoria couldn't contain herself. "Oh, this is priceless. Is Alexander getting married? He can't even keep a girlfriend past the three-month mark." "Thank you for that astute observation, Victoria," I said, forcing a smile. "Always a pleasure to have your support." Uncle Richard, Victoria's father, chuckled from the corner of the room. "The boy does have a track record." "A track record?" My father set his tumbler down with more force than necessary. "Last year, we selected a perfectly suitable woman for him. The engagement was announced in the Times, for God's sake. And then what happened, Alexander?" I loosened my tie slightly. "Dad—" "He canceled it two weeks before the wedding," Father continued, addressing the room like I wasn't there. "The merger nearly fell apart because of it." Aunt Patricia gasped dramatically. "Penelope Langford? Such a lovely girl and from a good family. What a shame." "She wasn't right for me," I said firmly. Valentina finally looked up from her phone. "He didn't like her. Said she reminded him of a corporate spreadsheet – technically perfect but utterly boring." "Thank you for sharing that, Val," I muttered. My sister shrugged and went back to her phone. "Just telling it like it is." Grandfather Harold thumped his cane again. "Enough! The terms are simple. Alexander marries within six months, or Victoria receives my controlling stake in the company." Victoria nearly spilled her champagne in excitement. "Really, Grandfather? You'd give me control?" Her husband Thomas straightened his posture, dollar signs practically visible in his eyes. "I didn't build this company for forty years to watch it get dismantled by your husband's investment firm," Grandfather snapped at Victoria. "But at least you understand commitment." I stood up, pacing the Persian rug. "This is absurd. You're reducing the future of our family business to whether or not I get married? What century is this?" "The century where actions have consequences," Grandfather replied. "Victoria may be insufferable—" "Hey!" Victoria protested. "—but she's stable. Married. Committed." Victoria's smirk returned. "Face it, Alexander. You couldn't commit to a woman if your life depended on it. Now your career does, and we all know how that's going to end." Something snapped inside me. I'd tolerated Victoria's barbs for years, but this was different. This was my life's work at stake. "You know what, Victoria? You're wrong." "Am I?" She swirled her champagne. "Name one relationship you've had that lasted longer than a corporate quarterly report." My cousin Matthew, who'd been silently watching the drama unfold, whistled low. "She's got you there, Alex." I straightened my shoulders. "I'll do it. I'll get married within six months." The room fell silent again. "To whom?" Father asked skeptically. "I'll figure that out." Victoria burst into laughter. "Oh, this is too good! Alexander Carter, CEO and eligible bachelor, desperately seeking a wife. Should we put an ad in the classifieds?" Her husband joined in. "Maybe we should start interviewing candidates. Create a shortlist." "I don't need help finding someone," I said through gritted teeth. Aunt Elizabeth, who'd been quietly knitting in the corner, looked up. "What about that nice PR director at your company? Jennifer, something?" "She's married, Mother," Victoria said. "Oh. Well, what about your assistant?" "I'm not marrying my assistant, Aunt Elizabeth." Grandfather Harold raised his hand for silence. "The terms are set. Six months from today." Uncle Richard raised his glass. "To Alexander's impending nuptials! May he find a bride before Victoria gets his office." Victoria clinked glasses with her father. "I'm already planning where to put my new desk." I clenched my jaw. "Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts, cousin. I'm not losing the company." "Six months, Alexander," Grandfather reminded me. "The clock starts now." Chapter 6 Olivia I slept fitfully, my mind a carousel of images: Ryan's shocked face, Sophia's smug smirk, and, oddly, Alexander Carter's piercing gray eyes watching me in the rearview mirror. The weekend crawled by in a haze. I spent most of the time curled up on my couch, binging old movies, eating takeout, and ignoring the world, especially Ryan's desperate attempts to reach me. I let myself grieve, but by Sunday night, I was done crying; Ryan didn't deserve another tear. Monday morning arrived with brutal efficiency. I dragged myself into the shower, letting the hot water pound away the remnants of Friday night's disaster. No tears; I'd shed enough of those already. Ryan didn't deserve them. I wrapped myself in a towel and stared at my closet. What does one wear after catching their boyfriend balls-deep in another woman? I opted for armor: a crisp white blouse, a black pencil skirt, and highest heels. The kind of outfit that said, "I'm fine, fuck you very much." The cab ride to Carter Enterprises took twenty minutes. I spent it scrolling through Ryan's increasingly desperate texts. "Baby, please let me explain" "It was a mistake." "Call me." "I love YOU, not her." Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete. Carter Enterprises occupied a gleaming sixty-story tower in downtown Los Angeles. I'd been working there for eight months as a junior marketing executive, and despite the drama of my personal life imploding, I still felt a flutter of pride walking through those glass doors. The elevator whisked me to the 42nd floor. I stepped into the marketing department, where Nova was already at her desk, sipping her usual triple-shot espresso. "Morning, sunshine!" she called, then squinted at me. "You look different. New lipstick?" "New life status. Single." I dropped my bag at my desk. Before Nova could respond, Vivian breezed in, her red curls bouncing as she walked. "Ladies, you won't believe the email I just got. Apparently, the big boss himself will be sitting in on our presentation this week." "Alexander Carter?" I nearly choked on the words. "The one and only," Vivian confirmed, perching on the edge of my desk. "Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? It's not like you'll have to talk to him." If only she knew. "I'm just surprised," I managed. "He doesn't usually attend department presentations." Alice arrived last, as usual, balancing a stack of folders and her phone. "Sorry, I'm late. The barista got my order wrong twice. What did I miss?" "Alexander Carter's coming to our presentation, and Olivia's single," Nova summarized. Alice's eyes widened. "What? Which one should I address first?" "The presentation," I said quickly. "It's more important." "Like heck it is," Nova swiveled her chair to face me fully. "Spill it, Morgan. What happened with Ryan?" I sighed, lowering my voice. "I caught him fcking Sophia at her birthday party." All three women froze. "Sophia Santos? The one whose party you rushed off to?" Vivian clarified, her mouth hanging open. I nodded. "That backstabbing cvnt," Nova breathed. "I hope his d!ck falls off," Alice added, patting my shoulder. "That's almost verbatim what Emilia said," I laughed despite myself. "What did you do?" Vivian leaned in, hungry for details. "I dumped him on the spot and left. End of story." "Good for you," Nova said firmly. "You deserve someone who knows what he has." "Preferably someone with a bigger d!ck and a functioning moral compass," Alice suggested. "Can we please focus on work now?" I begged. "I have the social media analytics to finish before lunch." They reluctantly returned to their desks, but I caught them shooting me concerned glances throughout the morning. I buried myself in spreadsheets and engagement metrics, grateful for the distraction. The last thing I needed was to think about that night, including my unexpected encounter with Alexander Carter. The CEO of Carter Enterprises wasn't just my boss; he was a legend in the business world. Cold, calculating, brilliant. He'd taken his grandfather's company and transformed it into a multinational corporation in less than a decade. The tabloids occasionally linked him with models or actresses, but he was notoriously private. And I really, really didn't want him to connect the dots between the disheveled woman he'd rescued and Olivia Morgan, a junior marketing executive. At lunch, we headed to the company cafeteria on the 30th floor. I scanned the room instinctively, relaxing when I didn't spot any tall, dark-haired executives. "So," Vivian said as we settled at our usual table, "tell us more about Friday. You rushed out of here like youras.swas on fire." I poked at my salad. "Not much to tell. I got to the party, couldn't find Ryan, went looking for him, and found him bent over Sophia's dresser, drilling her like he was looking for oil." Nova snorted water through her nose. "Jesus, Liv! Warning next time." "What did you say?" Alice asked, leaning forward. "I asked if they'd been 'careful' and reminded him that monogamy is apparently very limiting." I stabbed a cherry tomato. "Then I told him to go fuck himself. Or Sophia. Whichever." "Queen shit," Vivian raised her water bottle in a toast. "To Olivia, who doesn't take crap from cheating assholes." "To Olivia," the others echoed. "Anything else interesting happened?" Alice asked. "Did you key his car? Throw drinks? Create a scene?" I hesitated. "No, nothing like that. Emilia and I just left." I couldn't bring myself to mention Alexander. It felt too surreal, too private somehow. The next few days passed in a blur of work and ignored calls from Ryan. I threw myself into the upcoming presentation, staying late to perfect the slides and rehearse my talking points. If Alexander Carter was going to be there, everything needed to be flawless. Not that he'd recognize me. He probably rescued women from creeps all the time. Why would he remember one random encounter? Thursday morning, I arrived early to set up the conference room. Our presentation on the new social media campaign was scheduled for 10 AM, and my stomach had been in knots since I woke up. "Relax," Nova said, adjusting the projector. "Carter probably won't even show up. These executives always have 'emergencies' that pull them away." "And if he does show up, he'll be on his phone the whole time," Vivian added, straightening the chairs. Alice arrived with a tray of coffee. "Or he'll leave halfway through. That's what happened at the last sales presentation." Their attempts at reassurance weren't helping. I couldn't shake the image of Alexander recognizing me, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he connected the dots between professional Olivia Morgan and the emotional wreck he'd driven home. By 9:55, the room was filled with marketing staff and a few executives I recognized from other departments. I took my position near the front, reviewing my notes one last time. At exactly 10 AM, the room fell silent. I looked up to see Alexander Carter striding through the door, followed by two assistants. He was even more imposing in his natural habitat with a charcoal suit perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and his presence commanded attention effortlessly. He nodded to the room and took a seat in the back row. I quickly looked down at my notes, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
I stood in front of the chapel. Pink roses and white lilies decorated every corner. My favorite flowers. The guests were already seated. Soon, at the end of the red carpet would stand the man I once loved, waiting to marry his bride. Everything was perfect. Except I wasn't the bride. “I really need to see Jace today.” I begged the bodyguard blocking the door. A beat-up suitcase and two boxes sat at my feet. Everything I owned in the world. "No you don’t. Get out of here," the bodyguard said icily. I saw disgust in his eyes. Yeah I get it. No one has sympathy for the crazy ex who shows up at the wedding. But I have my reason to be here. "If you don't let me see him, I'll just stand here and all the guests will see me," I threatened under my breath. Jace wouldn't want that. Especially not today. Because today, he was marrying Delilah Hart. She is the sister to Alpha Grayson Hart of Redstone Pack. A 100% high-society darling. All the guys in the world knew that marrying Delilah would totally change their lives, including Jace. So he made the easy call—marrying the lady who could turn him from a small-town nobody into a golden boy. And dump the girl who stayed by his side for last 4 years when he had nothing. He didn’t want any guests to see me here. Because I represented his broke, embarrassing past. He wanted me nowhere near his glittering new world. Tears stung my eyes as I thought of that. Like a knife was twisting in my chest. “Let me in or I’m starting to yell.” I choked. The bodyguard frowned. "Wait here." He finally called somebody. A few minutes later, he waved me in. I wiped my eyes and struggled into the hall with my suitcase and boxes. Instantly, I felt out of place. Everything reeked of wealth here. Expensive perfume. Manicured nails. Not a hair out of place. It was everything you imagined about the upper-class and way more. And me? I was wearing a baggy T-shirt and jeans. My sneakers had holes. "God, a homeless. She stinks." A woman mutter as I walked by. No it couldn’t be. I just showered this morning. My hair still smelled like strawberries and coconut. But poverty had a scent, apparently. "Mr. Carter is inside." The guard took me to a closed door and warned, “Make it quick.” “Thank you.” The room inside looked like something out of a movie. Marble floors. White carpet. A chandelier that probably cost more than my apartment. And there he was. The man I used to love. Adjusting his bowtie in front of a mirror. Jace was still heartbreakingly handsome. No wonder Delilah fell for him. When he turned and fixed his gorgeous blue eyes upon me, I still felt my heart race. "Hey, Jace," I said quietly. And immediately, I wanted to punch myself. Hey, Jace?! That’s the best I could do? His face was ice cold. "You shouldn't come, Aria.” he said with a frown. “Your ratty suitcase, your ripped jeans, your Vans. None of that belongs here." Well if you wanted to be brutal and vicious, that’s how it’s done. "Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? You dumped me over a fucking email!" I snapped. He shrugged. "Look around you. The wealthiest people in the world came for me today. This suit I’m wearing cost more than you can make in your entire life. What more explanation do you want?" Wow. I always knew he was a cold, calculating bastard. I just didn’t realize how deep it ran. "Maybe chasing Alpha’s sister got you here faster. But you know what? When she finds out how shallow and cold you are. You’ll lose it all." Anger flared across his face. "I know how to love someone! I just won't waste that on a small-town girl like you.” he said freezingly, “Are we done here?" “No.” I took a deep breath and got into the real reason I came. "You're marrying a rich girl. Fine. But why did you have to get me fired?" Yeah. I used to work for this jerk. From intern to full-time at Apex Corp, he was my supervisor. Our office romance was a secret. And just days ago, I found out he was getting married with Apex CEO’s sister. And I was out of a job thanks to him. "Right, your job.” The jerk shrugged, “You got your job all thanks to me. Now that I’m not around, maybe they finally saw how incompetent and stupid you are. Problem?" Was he fucking kidding me?! "I graduated top of my class. Made it through 7 rounds of interviews. My performance exceeded every quarterly target. I earned that job!" I snapped. “Come on, Aria. You really gonna be so naïve?” He walked closer, smirking. "You passed the interviews because I said so. Your sales? I contacted those customers for you. Without me, you'd be nothing but a pretty face." He seized my chin and looked me over with a disgusting look. I slapped his hand away. "Give me my job back,” I hissed, my voice slightly trembling. “My dad’s debt. My grandma’s medical bills…I need the money. You of all people should know what it’s like to be poor. Don’t. Make. Me. Beg." I was throwing my pride at his feet. But he just laughed. "Well, how about I offer you a deal?" he said as though he’d been waiting for this moment. He brushed my hair back, fingers trailing down to my collarbone. I shivered in disgust. "You and I. We never fuck. You were so clinging to that pathetic no-sex-before-marriage rule. Maybe it's time to grow up. Let me fuck you once and I’ll write you very handsome check. How does that sound?" I widened my eyes in shock. Then I slapped him. HARD. “FUCKING HELL…What the hell are you doing?! I’m getting married in front of everyone in fucking 10 minutes!” He roared covering his swollen face. "Fuck you, Jace!” I yelled, “You're a spineless freeloading puss! And hey—congrats on the wedding. Hope your junk is soft like a fucking spaghetti tonight!" Then I stormed out dragging my suitcase and boxes, ignoring his angry curses behind me. Hot tears poured down as I dashed across the hallway. God this couldn’t be any worse. I was prepared to drop all my self-esteem and begged with my life. Because I needed the job and money. But I still let him get to me. Now what do I do? My salary barely covered my rent, my father’s debt and grandma’s bill. Now with my job gone, I already got kicked out by my landlord. I probably had to sleep in a park tonight. So do I go back and let that jerk win? Let him humiliate me...No. I’d rather die than that… "Hey, watch where you're going!" someone yelled. Too late. I slammed right into the man in front of me. He was tall. So tall I felt like I’d just walked into a brick wall. His diamond cufflink was sharp like a blade. When we collided, it sliced clean through my thin T-shirt with a loud rip. In one second, the front of my shirt was torn open, exposing my white lace bra. “Ah!” I gasped and looked up. This was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. His face was like a statue carved by a master artist. And his expression was so cold and distant. When he looked down at me, I swear I was about to drown in those stormy gray eyes of his. Suddenly, I recognized who he was. This was Alpha of Redstone Pack. CEO of Apex Corporation. Jace’s brother-in-law. THE legendary. Grayson Hart. “Aria Collins?” His voice was sexy and velvety. He lowered his head and his eyes dropped to the exposed part of my bra. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the color of his eyes seemed to darken as he stared. Wherever his gaze landed, my skin started burning up. But wait. How did he know my name? Chapter 2 With Ex's Brother-in-law Aria’s POV Of course I recognized him. God, who didn’t? I’d met him at the Apex gala. His face was on every finance magazine cover, and any time you turned on a TV, there he was—linked to the latest scandal with some actress or model. But there was no way he’d know who I was. “I-I…Hello, Alpha Grayson,” I stammered. He turned his eyes away and said to a nearby guard, “Escort Ms. Collins out.” “Yes, Alpha.” The guards stepped in immediately, stretching out their arms like I was some kind of contaminant that might taint Grayson’s perfectly tailored suit. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to say something about my shirt?” It’s torn beyond repair and was showing my breasts. He paused. Just for a brief second. Then flicked something down at my feet. I looked down. A blank check. “I need a shirt that can cover my front. Not your hush money.” I gritted with humiliation. But he didn’t even glance back and just walked away. “God,” I muttered under my breath. Can you believe these rich bastards? They think they can buy everything with money. People nearby were all staring, snickering under their breath. I tried to cover my chest and grab my things to escape, but it was hard to do all that with just two hands. “Oh my god…Aria Collins?” Three girls emerged from the whispering crowd. I took one look at them and sighed internally. Great. Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse. “Hello. Layla. Sabrina. Brielle.” I said dryly. I used to work in the same team with these girls back at Apex. We were all under Jace. These girls adored Jace. They spent more time flirting with him by the coffee machine than actually working. Which left me doing most of their work. After I got fired, and when news of my secret relationship with Jace got out, they decided I was public enemy number one. “What are you even doing here, Aria? Trying to win back your ex at his wedding? That’s a new low even for you,” Layla snickered. “I’m not here to win anyone back.” I tried to push past them. But they blocked me. “What happened to your shirt?” Brielle snickered. “Did you seriously walk in here with your bra out? Is this like some low-budget fashion statement?” They burst into laughter together. “You could be completely naked and Jace still wouldn’t give a damn,” Sabrina squeaked. “Because he’s marrying Lady Delilah. THE Delilah Hart! Redstone Pack’s sweetheart. And you…well you’re just a poor-ass small-town girl.” I stopped in my track and gave them a cold glare, “Oh yeah? Well at least this smalltown girl actually dated Jace. And you all got nothing. Do you know how many times I had to listen to him complained about your screechy voices and cheesy perfume after we got home? Apparently he rather be with me than any of you.” Their jaws dropped. “Jace would never say that!” Brielle cried. “And my perfume isn’t cheesy!” Sabrina screamed. “Word for word,” I rolled my eyes. “Now move. Or I’m rolling this suitcase over your pretty little skirts.” They looked like ruffled chickens, but they parted. I quickly shoved my dingy luggage ahead like a weapon and stormed out of the church. Rich people were assholes. Grayson, Jace, and their whole damn minions. I struggled to get my suitcase down the steps, and once I hit the street, cold wind slapped me in the face. It’s almost night. But I had no idea where to go. I could crash in the hospital with my grandma, but she’d ask too many questions. Like why I hadn’t brought Jace around recently, or why I wasn’t staying at my apartment. I didn’t want her to know how bad things had gotten. I thought about the park. Sleeping on a bench. But in a ripped T-shirt that exposed my whole front? Horrible idea. So I texted my best friend, May, asking to stay at her place for a few days. She was my rock. If the whole world turned against me, at least I still had her. She texted back right away inviting me to come over. Dragging my suitcase across the street toward the bus stop, I told myself it was going to be okay. This horrible day was going to end. Then I heard them. “Hey, nice shirt!” A group of street wolves were loitering near the stop. I hugged myself tighter and curled into the bench, hoping they’d get bored and leave. “C’mon baby, drop your hands. Let us see what you’re working with.” Go away. Go away. Go away. “You rip that shirt yourself? Damn that’s wild. I like that in a girl.” One of them moved closer, reaching for my shoulder. “Fuck off!” I snapped, my voice shaking. But it only fired them up. “Oh, feisty. Shake those tits for me!” They grabbed my wrists, yanked my arms down. My T-shirt gaped open completely, revealing my lace bra. The cold air made my skin pebble. They laughed even louder. I struggled and screamed. My wolf growled in rage. Shifting in the city was illegal…but right now, I didn’t have a second choice… Just then. Blinding headlights. Followed by screeching tires. A silver car skidded to a stop inches away. The door flew open. A deep voice thundered: “Get in.” I was too shocked that I didn’t think twice and obeyed. The car peeled away the second I shut the door. “My suitcase!” I cried. “Someone will get it,” he said darkly. “Address.” I told the driver May’s, my body still shaking. Then he pressed a button. A privacy screen slid up between the front and back seats, sealing us in the back. That’s when he turned toward me and leaned in. Like a beast ready to pounce. His scent hit me. It’s sharp pine mixed with cold metal. My head started to get dizzy. “Walking on the street in that shirt was a mistake,” he said darkly. “It got like this because of you,” I mumbled. He snorted. Then there’s the sound of rustling fabric. A heavy jacket landed across my shoulders. It was still warm from his body and carried his scent. I held my breath. Wearing his coat almost felt like…he was wrapping himself around me. “Alpha Grayson…do you know me?” I whispered. My gut told me that he would never do this for a strange girl. But if he knew who I was, he must know that I was his sister’s husband’s ex. That didn’t explain why he would help. “We’ve met,” he said simply. I stared at him, searching those icy gray eyes. He was staring at me too, with those cold, hungry, possessive eyes. I felt like I was completely naked in front of him. “Aria,” he warned, voice thick and husky. But I couldn’t control myself. I was leaning forward. Shit. Why did my body become so weird? My skin was on fire. My panties were wet. All I wanted was more of his scent. More of his heat. The next second his lips crashed onto mine. Hard. Rough. I gasped and opened my mouth for him. His tongue slipped in and explored every inch of my mouth, making me shiver. His hands pushed into my torn shirt and grabbed my breast. I couldn’t control my moan when he touched my naked skin. This…This was crazy. He was a stranger, and most importantly, my ex’s brother-in-law. And I was making out with him at the back of his car. The crazy part was I didn’t even want to stop. He lifted me onto his lap like I weighed nothing. I straddled his thighs and yanked at his tie as he bit my collarbone. Then, suddenly, the car stopped. “Alpha, we’ve arrived,” the driver said behind the screen. That’s when it all froze. His lips paused at my neck. I was still squirming on his lap, flushed and throbbing. But he shoved me off. “We can’t do this,” he said coldly. Chapter 3 You're Special To Him Aria’s POV “So you’re telling me this guy made out with you in the backseat of his car… and then just shoved you off like nothing happened?” May asked in shock. 20 minutes later, I was sitting at her place, wrapped in one of her oversized hoodies, a steaming mug of tea in my hands. But I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. “Yup,” I muttered. “Who knows what’s wrong with him.” “What an asshole,” she huffed. “But honestly, this really isn’t like you. You dated that jerk Jace for 4 years and didn’t even sleep with him—which, by the way, was a brilliant choice—and now you're suddenly making out with a complete stranger in his car?” I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say. Yeah, she had a point. “I—I don’t know. Maybe it was the whole Jace-getting-married thing. Maybe I just snapped and wanted to screw around with someone hotter just to get back at him…Honestly, it was so stupid now that I think of it.” She grinned and wiggled her brows. “So… he was hot huh?” My cheeks flushed and my mind drifted back. Those stormy gray eyes, his perfectly shaped lips on my neck, and those arms that could pick me up like I weighed nothing…Shit I need to stop. “Yeah. VERY,” I whispered, hiding my red face behind the mug. May burst out laughing. “Now we’re talking! That’s exactly what you need right now—a drop-dead gorgeous rebound to get that loser Jace out of your system. Screw your ‘no sex before marriage’ rule. Life is short.” I gave her a weak smile. Honestly, I didn’t need a rebound. I needed a job, money, and a place to live. Grayson Hart was like dessert when you can’t even afford dinner. “So… do you even know who this guy was?” she asked. I hesitated. Right at this moment, the doorbell rang. She jumped up to get it and came back a few minutes later, hauling in my luggage, her face frozen in disbelief. “OMG. You are not gonna believe what just showed up outside.” “Umm… my luggage?” I joked. “Two fucking muscular guys in black suits and guns! And a freaking stretch limo! They called me ‘ma’am’ and said they hope Miss Aria has a wonderful evening. Now, you—” She leapt at me and shook me by the shoulders. “—you tell me right now who the hell you hooked up with!” I squealed and dropped into the couch with her, laughing and giggling breathlessly. “Okay, okay—I’ll tell you. It was… Grayson Hart.” I practically whispered his name. Because honestly, I still couldn’t believe it either. May froze, eyes wide as saucers. “Grayson—THE Grayson Hart?! As in our Alpha? The CEO of Apex?!” “And Jace’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. Now you know how stupid I was earlier?” She let out a full-on scream. Then she grabbed my hand, her face flushed with excitement. “Oh my God! Aria, do you know what this means? Alpha Grayson never even lends his jacket to his model girlfriends. He likes you. You’re special!” “No,” I said firmly. “If I was special, he wouldn’t have thrown me off his lap when I tried to take off his shirt.” “Maybe he had somewhere to be—” “Don’t, May. Let’s be real. Guys like him don’t fall for girls like me.” I took another sip of tea, hiding the ache in my chest. Hell even Jace thought I was beneath him. What chance did I have with Grayson freaking Hart? “Don’t be silly, Aria. You’re gorgeous. And smart and amazing and—WAIT! I just had the best idea ever.” “What?” “That arrogant jerk Jace thinks you’re just some small-town prude who wasn’t good enough for him right? But what if you ended up with Alpha Grayson? It’ll be easy to get him because he’s already obsessed. Oh, it would destroy Jace. That dickhead would never recover.” OKAY. I’d be lying if I said that exact scenario hadn’t crossed my mind when Grayson kissed me back. What girl hasn’t daydreamed about dating the perfect guy and getting revenge in the most dramatic way possible? But right now, I couldn’t afford to daydream. Reality was already breathing down my neck. “Tempting. But right now I need a job and enough cash to keep Grandma in her hospital bed. Dating rich dudes isn’t exactly high on my to-do list.” May looked at me with soft eyes. “So…any plans? I can try to hook you up with a job, but you know I just work at a coffee shop, and with your degree, you deserve so much more.” I hugged her. “Thank you. Really. I’ll figure something out. Apex promised me severance when they fired me, so I’m going to HR tomorrow to get it sorted.” If I could get that money, at least I’d be OK for the next round of Grandma’s medical bills. — The next morning, I showed up at Apex right on time. But the second Brielle walked in with the HR manager, I had a bad feeling. “What’s she doing here?” I asked coldly. “I’ll explain in a minute,” HR replied with a polite, rehearsed smile as she sat across from me. “So Ms. Collins, I understand you’re here to discuss severance?” “Yes. So let’s not waste time. Just give me the check and I’ll be out of here.” “Unfortunately, severance only applies when the company terminates a contract without cause. In your case… it appears you were let go due to misconduct.” Misconduct? What the freaking hell. “Jace made a snap decision and booted me. What misconduct are you talking about?” “But that’s not what Mr. Carter said. He provided evidence that you made a costly error on a sales quote—omitting a few zeroes, to be exact. Cost the company millions. Here’s the email record.” She handed me a printed sheet. I swore I had never sent this email in my life. But there it was—my name in the sender field. No freaking way. Jace forged this. “And Mr. Carter reported that you had a difficult attitude toward your coworkers. Quote: ‘impatient and arrogant.’ Brielle’s here to verify that.” Brielle twirled her hair and smiled smugly. “Yeah. Aria was a horrible team player.” I stood so fast my chair screeched. “The only thing I didn’t ‘teamplayed’ with you was flirt with the boss in the breakroom!” “Liar!” she yelled. “And I asked Jace. He never said my voice was screechy!” Oh my God. I couldn’t believe how stupid she was. “Sit down, Miss Collins,” HR warned. “As of now, not only are you not getting severance, but we’re also considering legal action to recover the losses. If you understand the situation here, sign this acknowledgement—” “Does Alpha Grayson know about this?” I asked. Both of them froze. After a long pause, HR finally found her voice. “What does Alpha Grayson have to do with any of this?” “He owns Apex, doesn’t he? Does he know his team is abusing their power and firing hardworking employees illegally?” HR frowned. Brielle let out a loud snort. “Please. Don’t act like you know Alpha Grayson.” “What if I do? What if I go to him and then it’s you who gets fired?” She laughed in my face. “Oh, you mean you know him on TV?” “Let’s find out.” I shoved my chair back and stormed out, heading straight for the CEO’s private elevator at the end of the hall. HR scrambled after me, shouting my name. I was too furious to care how this ended. All I wanted now was to blow the whole damn place up. Two guards stood by the elevator. “I need to see Alpha Grayson,” I told them. “Appointment?” “No, but I swear he knows me. Just tell him it’s Aria—from yesterday. He’ll remember.” “You aren’t the first girl here saying that,” one of them mocked. “Come on, Miss Collins,” HR snapped, trying to drag me back. “This is getting crazy. Go back, sign the paper. Take responsibility for your own mistake.” “I didn’t send that email. It was Jace—he’s framing me! I will report all of you.” “Alpha Grayson doesn’t have time for your report, or your visit, or any of your little drama!” “I believe no one but me has the right to decide that,” a cold voice said behind us. Chapter 4 Take Me, Please Aria’s POV A large hand grabbed my arm and pulled me away from HR’s grip. I looked up and my heart almost stopped. Even I couldn’t believe he just showed up here. It felt like a dream. “A-Alpha Grayson,” HR stammered, her face frozen with shock and fear. “I don’t need employees who think they can make decisions for their boss,” he said freezingly while wrapping his arm around my waist. “If I see something like this again, you’re fired.” “Y-yes, Alpha. I’m terribly sorry…” HR’s expression was priceless, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. His icy pine scent consumed me again, making my body weak and hot. My wolf let out a soft purr, urging me to lean into him. But before I could even move, he let go. A pang of disappointment hit me in the chest. “Come,” he said shortly, striding toward the private elevator. I shot HR and the stunned security guards a smug look, then hurried after him. He swiped his card and the elevator doors closed. We started going up to the 58th floor. It was dead silent. My heart was beating so wildly that I was afraid he’d hear it. I snuck a glance at him—he just stared straight ahead, emotionless, keeping a distance, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Unease twisted my stomach. “So, um… what brings you here today?” I broke the silence. He sighed softly. “I owe this company.” “Oh, Oh…Right.” I wanted to punch myself in the face. The awkward silence lingered until the elevator dinged open. The 58th floor was a wide-open space with no cubicles or dividers—just massive floor-to-ceiling windows and a sweeping view of the entire city. “Wow,” I whispered under my breath. Grayson was already walking ahead. I jogged to catch up as he led me into an office at the far end of the floor. A stunning female assistant closed the door behind us, and once again, it was just the two of us. My heart rocketed back into my throat. He casually unbuttoned his jacket. It was amazing how he made even that look sexy. “So you insisted on seeing me?” he asked. He didn’t ask me to sit. He didn’t even move closer. That distance stung a little. “I worked here till a week ago when I found out I was let go for no reason…” I quickly told him the story of how I was fired. “This is clearly illegal in so many ways… can you help me get my job back?” “Unfortunately, no,” he replied, barely hesitating. My heart dropped like a stone. “Why not?” “I’ll have the hiring department look into whether your termination followed proper protocol. But this isn’t something a CEO handles directly. Anything else?” The hiring department? That could take weeks—and I didn’t have weeks. “No… you don’t get it,” I stepped forward, my voice trembling. “My grandma’s in the hospital. Her bills are getting insane every month. And I’m already deep in debt… If I can’t make money, I don’t even know— I really, REALLY need this job.” I knew we came from two different worlds, but laying out the most desperate parts of my life in front of him still made me feel horribly exposed. I just hoped—begged—that he’d understand. But he didn’t. His gray eyes stayed emotionless. “I’m sorry, Miss Collins,” he said quietly. Tears rushed into my eyes. I couldn’t even breathe. All I could think about were the bills, the debt, the mountain of shit waiting for me the second I left this building. “If there’s nothing else, my assistant will show you out.” he said, reaching for the intercom. I rushed forward and pressed my hand down on his before he could call anyone in. His whole body stiffened—but he didn’t pull away. He just stared down at me. I stepped in closer, tilting my head up. His gray eyes darkened like a storm brewing in the distance. His pine scent wrapped around me again, thick and intoxicating. As werewolves, our scent only spikes during a fight or sexual arousal. It was damn obvious which case this was. “You clearly feel something for me,” I whispered. He said nothing. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was racing as well. His breathing had also turned shallow. “What are you doing, Miss Collins?” he asked tightly. “Trying to seduce your way into a job?” “You can do whatever you want,” I locked eyes with him. “I won’t stop you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. God, I wanted to lick it. And… well, I did. I leaned up and pressed my lips to it. He let out a growl. The next second, I was pinned on his desk. He stood between my spread legs, one hand by my head. I whimpered, clamping my thighs together—the heat between them was almost unbearable. Just like in the backseat of his car. His hand slid from the desk to my throat. It was so big, he could probably snap my neck if he wanted. “You shouldn’t keep tempting me, Miss Collins.” His body was pressed against my thighs—I definitely felt the effect I was having on him. “Why?” I whispered, licking my lips. “Because your self-control isn’t as strong as you thought?” “Because I don’t fuck virgins.” What the actual hell??? The next second, he had pulled away. I scrambled off the desk, face red, eyes wide. “What did you just say?!” I snapped. “Why—How the hell do you even know—?” “I know who you are. And I know about your relationship with my sister’s husband.” And just like that, everything clicked. It was Jace. That bastard didn’t just dump me—he ran his mouth about my virginity to everyone, including Grayson. Humiliation crashed over me like a wave. “Jace is a fucking asshole,” I snapped shakily. Grayson shrugged. “Obviously. But Brielle likes him. And he’s family now. I’m sorry but I just can’t get involved in this.” I climbed off his desk with my whole body red and shaking. He didn’t want me. And he was taking his sister and Jace’s side. I was so damn stupid to think that one kiss in the car actually meant anything. But this was Grayson Hart for Christ’s sake. He could have anyone he wanted. “I’m sure you’re a very capable employee, Miss Collins. But seducing me won’t help your career. I wish you all the best.” He finally pressed the intercom button. His assistant appeared at the door, waiting for me to leave. “Bye,” I whispered without even look back. I didn’t want him to notice my falling tears. I walked out of that office, numb, and rode the elevator down like a ghost. My mind was a storm of bills, debt, and Grayson’s ice-cold stare. Now I desperately needed a new job. “Miss Collins!” I turned and saw his assistant come rushing out again, holding an envelope. “Alpha Grayson asked me to give you this,” she said, handing it over. “What is it?” Why didn’t he give it to me earlier? “He didn’t say. Maybe you’ll know once you open it.” She gave me a mysterious smile and walked away. I opened the envelope. A blank check slid out first—I held my breath in shock. Then I found a crumpled note. His handwriting, rushed and messy. Haven’t repaid you for the shirt. Hope everything works out for you Aria. Stay strong. —Grayson
I stood in front of the chapel. Pink roses and white lilies decorated every corner. My favorite flowers. The guests were already seated. Soon, at the end of the red carpet would stand the man I once loved, waiting to marry his bride. Everything was perfect. Except I wasn't the bride. “I really need to see Jace today.” I begged the bodyguard blocking the door. A beat-up suitcase and two boxes sat at my feet. Everything I owned in the world. "No you don’t. Get out of here," the bodyguard said icily. I saw disgust in his eyes. Yeah I get it. No one has sympathy for the crazy ex who shows up at the wedding. But I have my reason to be here. "If you don't let me see him, I'll just stand here and all the guests will see me," I threatened under my breath. Jace wouldn't want that. Especially not today. Because today, he was marrying Delilah Hart. She is the sister to Alpha Grayson Hart of Redstone Pack. A 100% high-society darling. All the guys in the world knew that marrying Delilah would totally change their lives, including Jace. So he made the easy call—marrying the lady who could turn him from a small-town nobody into a golden boy. And dump the girl who stayed by his side for last 4 years when he had nothing. He didn’t want any guests to see me here. Because I represented his broke, embarrassing past. He wanted me nowhere near his glittering new world. Tears stung my eyes as I thought of that. Like a knife was twisting in my chest. “Let me in or I’m starting to yell.” I choked. The bodyguard frowned. "Wait here." He finally called somebody. A few minutes later, he waved me in. I wiped my eyes and struggled into the hall with my suitcase and boxes. Instantly, I felt out of place. Everything reeked of wealth here. Expensive perfume. Manicured nails. Not a hair out of place. It was everything you imagined about the upper-class and way more. And me? I was wearing a baggy T-shirt and jeans. My sneakers had holes. "God, a homeless. She stinks." A woman mutter as I walked by. No it couldn’t be. I just showered this morning. My hair still smelled like strawberries and coconut. But poverty had a scent, apparently. "Mr. Carter is inside." The guard took me to a closed door and warned, “Make it quick.” “Thank you.” The room inside looked like something out of a movie. Marble floors. White carpet. A chandelier that probably cost more than my apartment. And there he was. The man I used to love. Adjusting his bowtie in front of a mirror. Jace was still heartbreakingly handsome. No wonder Delilah fell for him. When he turned and fixed his gorgeous blue eyes upon me, I still felt my heart race. "Hey, Jace," I said quietly. And immediately, I wanted to punch myself. Hey, Jace?! That’s the best I could do? His face was ice cold. "You shouldn't come, Aria.” he said with a frown. “Your ratty suitcase, your ripped jeans, your Vans. None of that belongs here." Well if you wanted to be brutal and vicious, that’s how it’s done. "Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? You dumped me over a fucking email!" I snapped. He shrugged. "Look around you. The wealthiest people in the world came for me today. This suit I’m wearing cost more than you can make in your entire life. What more explanation do you want?" Wow. I always knew he was a cold, calculating bastard. I just didn’t realize how deep it ran. "Maybe chasing Alpha’s sister got you here faster. But you know what? When she finds out how shallow and cold you are. You’ll lose it all." Anger flared across his face. "I know how to love someone! I just won't waste that on a small-town girl like you.” he said freezingly, “Are we done here?" “No.” I took a deep breath and got into the real reason I came. "You're marrying a rich girl. Fine. But why did you have to get me fired?" Yeah. I used to work for this jerk. From intern to full-time at Apex Corp, he was my supervisor. Our office romance was a secret. And just days ago, I found out he was getting married with Apex CEO’s sister. And I was out of a job thanks to him. "Right, your job.” The jerk shrugged, “You got your job all thanks to me. Now that I’m not around, maybe they finally saw how incompetent and stupid you are. Problem?" Was he fucking kidding me?! "I graduated top of my class. Made it through 7 rounds of interviews. My performance exceeded every quarterly target. I earned that job!" I snapped. “Come on, Aria. You really gonna be so naïve?” He walked closer, smirking. "You passed the interviews because I said so. Your sales? I contacted those customers for you. Without me, you'd be nothing but a pretty face." He seized my chin and looked me over with a disgusting look. I slapped his hand away. "Give me my job back,” I hissed, my voice slightly trembling. “My dad’s debt. My grandma’s medical bills…I need the money. You of all people should know what it’s like to be poor. Don’t. Make. Me. Beg." I was throwing my pride at his feet. But he just laughed. "Well, how about I offer you a deal?" he said as though he’d been waiting for this moment. He brushed my hair back, fingers trailing down to my collarbone. I shivered in disgust. "You and I. We never fuck. You were so clinging to that pathetic no-sex-before-marriage rule. Maybe it's time to grow up. Let me fuck you once and I’ll write you very handsome check. How does that sound?" I widened my eyes in shock. Then I slapped him. HARD. “FUCKING HELL…What the hell are you doing?! I’m getting married in front of everyone in fucking 10 minutes!” He roared covering his swollen face. "Fuck you, Jace!” I yelled, “You're a spineless freeloading puss! And hey—congrats on the wedding. Hope your junk is soft like a fucking spaghetti tonight!" Then I stormed out dragging my suitcase and boxes, ignoring his angry curses behind me. Hot tears poured down as I dashed across the hallway. God this couldn’t be any worse. I was prepared to drop all my self-esteem and begged with my life. Because I needed the job and money. But I still let him get to me. Now what do I do? My salary barely covered my rent, my father’s debt and grandma’s bill. Now with my job gone, I already got kicked out by my landlord. I probably had to sleep in a park tonight. So do I go back and let that jerk win? Let him humiliate me...No. I’d rather die than that… "Hey, watch where you're going!" someone yelled. Too late. I slammed right into the man in front of me. He was tall. So tall I felt like I’d just walked into a brick wall. His diamond cufflink was sharp like a blade. When we collided, it sliced clean through my thin T-shirt with a loud rip. In one second, the front of my shirt was torn open, exposing my white lace bra. “Ah!” I gasped and looked up. This was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. His face was like a statue carved by a master artist. And his expression was so cold and distant. When he looked down at me, I swear I was about to drown in those stormy gray eyes of his. Suddenly, I recognized who he was. This was Alpha of Redstone Pack. CEO of Apex Corporation. Jace’s brother-in-law. THE legendary. Grayson Hart. “Aria Collins?” His voice was sexy and velvety. He lowered his head and his eyes dropped to the exposed part of my bra. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the color of his eyes seemed to darken as he stared. Wherever his gaze landed, my skin started burning up. But wait. How did he know my name? Chapter 2 With Ex's Brother-in-law Aria’s POV Of course I recognized him. God, who didn’t? I’d met him at the Apex gala. His face was on every finance magazine cover, and any time you turned on a TV, there he was—linked to the latest scandal with some actress or model. But there was no way he’d know who I was. “I-I…Hello, Alpha Grayson,” I stammered. He turned his eyes away and said to a nearby guard, “Escort Ms. Collins out.” “Yes, Alpha.” The guards stepped in immediately, stretching out their arms like I was some kind of contaminant that might taint Grayson’s perfectly tailored suit. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to say something about my shirt?” It’s torn beyond repair and was showing my breasts. He paused. Just for a brief second. Then flicked something down at my feet. I looked down. A blank check. “I need a shirt that can cover my front. Not your hush money.” I gritted with humiliation. But he didn’t even glance back and just walked away. “God,” I muttered under my breath. Can you believe these rich bastards? They think they can buy everything with money. People nearby were all staring, snickering under their breath. I tried to cover my chest and grab my things to escape, but it was hard to do all that with just two hands. “Oh my god…Aria Collins?” Three girls emerged from the whispering crowd. I took one look at them and sighed internally. Great. Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse. “Hello. Layla. Sabrina. Brielle.” I said dryly. I used to work in the same team with these girls back at Apex. We were all under Jace. These girls adored Jace. They spent more time flirting with him by the coffee machine than actually working. Which left me doing most of their work. After I got fired, and when news of my secret relationship with Jace got out, they decided I was public enemy number one. “What are you even doing here, Aria? Trying to win back your ex at his wedding? That’s a new low even for you,” Layla snickered. “I’m not here to win anyone back.” I tried to push past them. But they blocked me. “What happened to your shirt?” Brielle snickered. “Did you seriously walk in here with your bra out? Is this like some low-budget fashion statement?” They burst into laughter together. “You could be completely naked and Jace still wouldn’t give a damn,” Sabrina squeaked. “Because he’s marrying Lady Delilah. THE Delilah Hart! Redstone Pack’s sweetheart. And you…well you’re just a poor-ass small-town girl.” I stopped in my track and gave them a cold glare, “Oh yeah? Well at least this smalltown girl actually dated Jace. And you all got nothing. Do you know how many times I had to listen to him complained about your screechy voices and cheesy perfume after we got home? Apparently he rather be with me than any of you.” Their jaws dropped. “Jace would never say that!” Brielle cried. “And my perfume isn’t cheesy!” Sabrina screamed. “Word for word,” I rolled my eyes. “Now move. Or I’m rolling this suitcase over your pretty little skirts.” They looked like ruffled chickens, but they parted. I quickly shoved my dingy luggage ahead like a weapon and stormed out of the church. Rich people were assholes. Grayson, Jace, and their whole damn minions. I struggled to get my suitcase down the steps, and once I hit the street, cold wind slapped me in the face. It’s almost night. But I had no idea where to go. I could crash in the hospital with my grandma, but she’d ask too many questions. Like why I hadn’t brought Jace around recently, or why I wasn’t staying at my apartment. I didn’t want her to know how bad things had gotten. I thought about the park. Sleeping on a bench. But in a ripped T-shirt that exposed my whole front? Horrible idea. So I texted my best friend, May, asking to stay at her place for a few days. She was my rock. If the whole world turned against me, at least I still had her. She texted back right away inviting me to come over. Dragging my suitcase across the street toward the bus stop, I told myself it was going to be okay. This horrible day was going to end. Then I heard them. “Hey, nice shirt!” A group of street wolves were loitering near the stop. I hugged myself tighter and curled into the bench, hoping they’d get bored and leave. “C’mon baby, drop your hands. Let us see what you’re working with.” Go away. Go away. Go away. “You rip that shirt yourself? Damn that’s wild. I like that in a girl.” One of them moved closer, reaching for my shoulder. “Fuck off!” I snapped, my voice shaking. But it only fired them up. “Oh, feisty. Shake those tits for me!” They grabbed my wrists, yanked my arms down. My T-shirt gaped open completely, revealing my lace bra. The cold air made my skin pebble. They laughed even louder. I struggled and screamed. My wolf growled in rage. Shifting in the city was illegal…but right now, I didn’t have a second choice… Just then. Blinding headlights. Followed by screeching tires. A silver car skidded to a stop inches away. The door flew open. A deep voice thundered: “Get in.” I was too shocked that I didn’t think twice and obeyed. The car peeled away the second I shut the door. “My suitcase!” I cried. “Someone will get it,” he said darkly. “Address.” I told the driver May’s, my body still shaking. Then he pressed a button. A privacy screen slid up between the front and back seats, sealing us in the back. That’s when he turned toward me and leaned in. Like a beast ready to pounce. His scent hit me. It’s sharp pine mixed with cold metal. My head started to get dizzy. “Walking on the street in that shirt was a mistake,” he said darkly. “It got like this because of you,” I mumbled. He snorted. Then there’s the sound of rustling fabric. A heavy jacket landed across my shoulders. It was still warm from his body and carried his scent. I held my breath. Wearing his coat almost felt like…he was wrapping himself around me. “Alpha Grayson…do you know me?” I whispered. My gut told me that he would never do this for a strange girl. But if he knew who I was, he must know that I was his sister’s husband’s ex. That didn’t explain why he would help. “We’ve met,” he said simply. I stared at him, searching those icy gray eyes. He was staring at me too, with those cold, hungry, possessive eyes. I felt like I was completely naked in front of him. “Aria,” he warned, voice thick and husky. But I couldn’t control myself. I was leaning forward. Shit. Why did my body become so weird? My skin was on fire. My panties were wet. All I wanted was more of his scent. More of his heat. The next second his lips crashed onto mine. Hard. Rough. I gasped and opened my mouth for him. His tongue slipped in and explored every inch of my mouth, making me shiver. His hands pushed into my torn shirt and grabbed my breast. I couldn’t control my moan when he touched my naked skin. This…This was crazy. He was a stranger, and most importantly, my ex’s brother-in-law. And I was making out with him at the back of his car. The crazy part was I didn’t even want to stop. He lifted me onto his lap like I weighed nothing. I straddled his thighs and yanked at his tie as he bit my collarbone. Then, suddenly, the car stopped. “Alpha, we’ve arrived,” the driver said behind the screen. That’s when it all froze. His lips paused at my neck. I was still squirming on his lap, flushed and throbbing. But he shoved me off. “We can’t do this,” he said coldly. Chapter 3 You're Special To Him Aria’s POV “So you’re telling me this guy made out with you in the backseat of his car… and then just shoved you off like nothing happened?” May asked in shock. 20 minutes later, I was sitting at her place, wrapped in one of her oversized hoodies, a steaming mug of tea in my hands. But I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. “Yup,” I muttered. “Who knows what’s wrong with him.” “What an asshole,” she huffed. “But honestly, this really isn’t like you. You dated that jerk Jace for 4 years and didn’t even sleep with him—which, by the way, was a brilliant choice—and now you're suddenly making out with a complete stranger in his car?” I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say. Yeah, she had a point. “I—I don’t know. Maybe it was the whole Jace-getting-married thing. Maybe I just snapped and wanted to screw around with someone hotter just to get back at him…Honestly, it was so stupid now that I think of it.” She grinned and wiggled her brows. “So… he was hot huh?” My cheeks flushed and my mind drifted back. Those stormy gray eyes, his perfectly shaped lips on my neck, and those arms that could pick me up like I weighed nothing…Shit I need to stop. “Yeah. VERY,” I whispered, hiding my red face behind the mug. May burst out laughing. “Now we’re talking! That’s exactly what you need right now—a drop-dead gorgeous rebound to get that loser Jace out of your system. Screw your ‘no sex before marriage’ rule. Life is short.” I gave her a weak smile. Honestly, I didn’t need a rebound. I needed a job, money, and a place to live. Grayson Hart was like dessert when you can’t even afford dinner. “So… do you even know who this guy was?” she asked. I hesitated. Right at this moment, the doorbell rang. She jumped up to get it and came back a few minutes later, hauling in my luggage, her face frozen in disbelief. “OMG. You are not gonna believe what just showed up outside.” “Umm… my luggage?” I joked. “Two fucking muscular guys in black suits and guns! And a freaking stretch limo! They called me ‘ma’am’ and said they hope Miss Aria has a wonderful evening. Now, you—” She leapt at me and shook me by the shoulders. “—you tell me right now who the hell you hooked up with!” I squealed and dropped into the couch with her, laughing and giggling breathlessly. “Okay, okay—I’ll tell you. It was… Grayson Hart.” I practically whispered his name. Because honestly, I still couldn’t believe it either. May froze, eyes wide as saucers. “Grayson—THE Grayson Hart?! As in our Alpha? The CEO of Apex?!” “And Jace’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. Now you know how stupid I was earlier?” She let out a full-on scream. Then she grabbed my hand, her face flushed with excitement. “Oh my God! Aria, do you know what this means? Alpha Grayson never even lends his jacket to his model girlfriends. He likes you. You’re special!” “No,” I said firmly. “If I was special, he wouldn’t have thrown me off his lap when I tried to take off his shirt.” “Maybe he had somewhere to be—” “Don’t, May. Let’s be real. Guys like him don’t fall for girls like me.” I took another sip of tea, hiding the ache in my chest. Hell even Jace thought I was beneath him. What chance did I have with Grayson freaking Hart? “Don’t be silly, Aria. You’re gorgeous. And smart and amazing and—WAIT! I just had the best idea ever.” “What?” “That arrogant jerk Jace thinks you’re just some small-town prude who wasn’t good enough for him right? But what if you ended up with Alpha Grayson? It’ll be easy to get him because he’s already obsessed. Oh, it would destroy Jace. That dickhead would never recover.” OKAY. I’d be lying if I said that exact scenario hadn’t crossed my mind when Grayson kissed me back. What girl hasn’t daydreamed about dating the perfect guy and getting revenge in the most dramatic way possible? But right now, I couldn’t afford to daydream. Reality was already breathing down my neck. “Tempting. But right now I need a job and enough cash to keep Grandma in her hospital bed. Dating rich dudes isn’t exactly high on my to-do list.” May looked at me with soft eyes. “So…any plans? I can try to hook you up with a job, but you know I just work at a coffee shop, and with your degree, you deserve so much more.” I hugged her. “Thank you. Really. I’ll figure something out. Apex promised me severance when they fired me, so I’m going to HR tomorrow to get it sorted.” If I could get that money, at least I’d be OK for the next round of Grandma’s medical bills. — The next morning, I showed up at Apex right on time. But the second Brielle walked in with the HR manager, I had a bad feeling. “What’s she doing here?” I asked coldly. “I’ll explain in a minute,” HR replied with a polite, rehearsed smile as she sat across from me. “So Ms. Collins, I understand you’re here to discuss severance?” “Yes. So let’s not waste time. Just give me the check and I’ll be out of here.” “Unfortunately, severance only applies when the company terminates a contract without cause. In your case… it appears you were let go due to misconduct.” Misconduct? What the freaking hell. “Jace made a snap decision and booted me. What misconduct are you talking about?” “But that’s not what Mr. Carter said. He provided evidence that you made a costly error on a sales quote—omitting a few zeroes, to be exact. Cost the company millions. Here’s the email record.” She handed me a printed sheet. I swore I had never sent this email in my life. But there it was—my name in the sender field. No freaking way. Jace forged this. “And Mr. Carter reported that you had a difficult attitude toward your coworkers. Quote: ‘impatient and arrogant.’ Brielle’s here to verify that.” Brielle twirled her hair and smiled smugly. “Yeah. Aria was a horrible team player.” I stood so fast my chair screeched. “The only thing I didn’t ‘teamplayed’ with you was flirt with the boss in the breakroom!” “Liar!” she yelled. “And I asked Jace. He never said my voice was screechy!” Oh my God. I couldn’t believe how stupid she was. “Sit down, Miss Collins,” HR warned. “As of now, not only are you not getting severance, but we’re also considering legal action to recover the losses. If you understand the situation here, sign this acknowledgement—” “Does Alpha Grayson know about this?” I asked. Both of them froze. After a long pause, HR finally found her voice. “What does Alpha Grayson have to do with any of this?” “He owns Apex, doesn’t he? Does he know his team is abusing their power and firing hardworking employees illegally?” HR frowned. Brielle let out a loud snort. “Please. Don’t act like you know Alpha Grayson.” “What if I do? What if I go to him and then it’s you who gets fired?” She laughed in my face. “Oh, you mean you know him on TV?” “Let’s find out.” I shoved my chair back and stormed out, heading straight for the CEO’s private elevator at the end of the hall. HR scrambled after me, shouting my name. I was too furious to care how this ended. All I wanted now was to blow the whole damn place up. Two guards stood by the elevator. “I need to see Alpha Grayson,” I told them. “Appointment?” “No, but I swear he knows me. Just tell him it’s Aria—from yesterday. He’ll remember.” “You aren’t the first girl here saying that,” one of them mocked. “Come on, Miss Collins,” HR snapped, trying to drag me back. “This is getting crazy. Go back, sign the paper. Take responsibility for your own mistake.” “I didn’t send that email. It was Jace—he’s framing me! I will report all of you.” “Alpha Grayson doesn’t have time for your report, or your visit, or any of your little drama!” “I believe no one but me has the right to decide that,” a cold voice said behind us. Chapter 4 Take Me, Please Aria’s POV A large hand grabbed my arm and pulled me away from HR’s grip. I looked up and my heart almost stopped. Even I couldn’t believe he just showed up here. It felt like a dream. “A-Alpha Grayson,” HR stammered, her face frozen with shock and fear. “I don’t need employees who think they can make decisions for their boss,” he said freezingly while wrapping his arm around my waist. “If I see something like this again, you’re fired.” “Y-yes, Alpha. I’m terribly sorry…” HR’s expression was priceless, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. His icy pine scent consumed me again, making my body weak and hot. My wolf let out a soft purr, urging me to lean into him. But before I could even move, he let go. A pang of disappointment hit me in the chest. “Come,” he said shortly, striding toward the private elevator. I shot HR and the stunned security guards a smug look, then hurried after him. He swiped his card and the elevator doors closed. We started going up to the 58th floor. It was dead silent. My heart was beating so wildly that I was afraid he’d hear it. I snuck a glance at him—he just stared straight ahead, emotionless, keeping a distance, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Unease twisted my stomach. “So, um… what brings you here today?” I broke the silence. He sighed softly. “I owe this company.” “Oh, Oh…Right.” I wanted to punch myself in the face. The awkward silence lingered until the elevator dinged open. The 58th floor was a wide-open space with no cubicles or dividers—just massive floor-to-ceiling windows and a sweeping view of the entire city. “Wow,” I whispered under my breath. Grayson was already walking ahead. I jogged to catch up as he led me into an office at the far end of the floor. A stunning female assistant closed the door behind us, and once again, it was just the two of us. My heart rocketed back into my throat. He casually unbuttoned his jacket. It was amazing how he made even that look sexy. “So you insisted on seeing me?” he asked. He didn’t ask me to sit. He didn’t even move closer. That distance stung a little. “I worked here till a week ago when I found out I was let go for no reason…” I quickly told him the story of how I was fired. “This is clearly illegal in so many ways… can you help me get my job back?” “Unfortunately, no,” he replied, barely hesitating. My heart dropped like a stone. “Why not?” “I’ll have the hiring department look into whether your termination followed proper protocol. But this isn’t something a CEO handles directly. Anything else?” The hiring department? That could take weeks—and I didn’t have weeks. “No… you don’t get it,” I stepped forward, my voice trembling. “My grandma’s in the hospital. Her bills are getting insane every month. And I’m already deep in debt… If I can’t make money, I don’t even know— I really, REALLY need this job.” I knew we came from two different worlds, but laying out the most desperate parts of my life in front of him still made me feel horribly exposed. I just hoped—begged—that he’d understand. But he didn’t. His gray eyes stayed emotionless. “I’m sorry, Miss Collins,” he said quietly. Tears rushed into my eyes. I couldn’t even breathe. All I could think about were the bills, the debt, the mountain of shit waiting for me the second I left this building. “If there’s nothing else, my assistant will show you out.” he said, reaching for the intercom. I rushed forward and pressed my hand down on his before he could call anyone in. His whole body stiffened—but he didn’t pull away. He just stared down at me. I stepped in closer, tilting my head up. His gray eyes darkened like a storm brewing in the distance. His pine scent wrapped around me again, thick and intoxicating. As werewolves, our scent only spikes during a fight or sexual arousal. It was damn obvious which case this was. “You clearly feel something for me,” I whispered. He said nothing. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was racing as well. His breathing had also turned shallow. “What are you doing, Miss Collins?” he asked tightly. “Trying to seduce your way into a job?” “You can do whatever you want,” I locked eyes with him. “I won’t stop you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. God, I wanted to lick it. And… well, I did. I leaned up and pressed my lips to it. He let out a growl. The next second, I was pinned on his desk. He stood between my spread legs, one hand by my head. I whimpered, clamping my thighs together—the heat between them was almost unbearable. Just like in the backseat of his car. His hand slid from the desk to my throat. It was so big, he could probably snap my neck if he wanted. “You shouldn’t keep tempting me, Miss Collins.” His body was pressed against my thighs—I definitely felt the effect I was having on him. “Why?” I whispered, licking my lips. “Because your self-control isn’t as strong as you thought?” “Because I don’t fuck virgins.” What the actual hell??? The next second, he had pulled away. I scrambled off the desk, face red, eyes wide. “What did you just say?!” I snapped. “Why—How the hell do you even know—?” “I know who you are. And I know about your relationship with my sister’s husband.” And just like that, everything clicked. It was Jace. That bastard didn’t just dump me—he ran his mouth about my virginity to everyone, including Grayson. Humiliation crashed over me like a wave. “Jace is a fucking asshole,” I snapped shakily. Grayson shrugged. “Obviously. But Brielle likes him. And he’s family now. I’m sorry but I just can’t get involved in this.” I climbed off his desk with my whole body red and shaking. He didn’t want me. And he was taking his sister and Jace’s side. I was so damn stupid to think that one kiss in the car actually meant anything. But this was Grayson Hart for Christ’s sake. He could have anyone he wanted. “I’m sure you’re a very capable employee, Miss Collins. But seducing me won’t help your career. I wish you all the best.” He finally pressed the intercom button. His assistant appeared at the door, waiting for me to leave. “Bye,” I whispered without even look back. I didn’t want him to notice my falling tears. I walked out of that office, numb, and rode the elevator down like a ghost. My mind was a storm of bills, debt, and Grayson’s ice-cold stare. Now I desperately needed a new job. “Miss Collins!” I turned and saw his assistant come rushing out again, holding an envelope. “Alpha Grayson asked me to give you this,” she said, handing it over. “What is it?” Why didn’t he give it to me earlier? “He didn’t say. Maybe you’ll know once you open it.” She gave me a mysterious smile and walked away. I opened the envelope. A blank check slid out first—I held my breath in shock. Then I found a crumpled note. His handwriting, rushed and messy. Haven’t repaid you for the shirt. Hope everything works out for you Aria. Stay strong. —Grayson
I stood in front of the chapel. Pink roses and white lilies decorated every corner. My favorite flowers. The guests were already seated. Soon, at the end of the red carpet would stand the man I once loved, waiting to marry his bride. Everything was perfect. Except I wasn't the bride. “I really need to see Jace today.” I begged the bodyguard blocking the door. A beat-up suitcase and two boxes sat at my feet. Everything I owned in the world. "No you don’t. Get out of here," the bodyguard said icily. I saw disgust in his eyes. Yeah I get it. No one has sympathy for the crazy ex who shows up at the wedding. But I have my reason to be here. "If you don't let me see him, I'll just stand here and all the guests will see me," I threatened under my breath. Jace wouldn't want that. Especially not today. Because today, he was marrying Delilah Hart. She is the sister to Alpha Grayson Hart of Redstone Pack. A 100% high-society darling. All the guys in the world knew that marrying Delilah would totally change their lives, including Jace. So he made the easy call—marrying the lady who could turn him from a small-town nobody into a golden boy. And dump the girl who stayed by his side for last 4 years when he had nothing. He didn’t want any guests to see me here. Because I represented his broke, embarrassing past. He wanted me nowhere near his glittering new world. Tears stung my eyes as I thought of that. Like a knife was twisting in my chest. “Let me in or I’m starting to yell.” I choked. The bodyguard frowned. "Wait here." He finally called somebody. A few minutes later, he waved me in. I wiped my eyes and struggled into the hall with my suitcase and boxes. Instantly, I felt out of place. Everything reeked of wealth here. Expensive perfume. Manicured nails. Not a hair out of place. It was everything you imagined about the upper-class and way more. And me? I was wearing a baggy T-shirt and jeans. My sneakers had holes. "God, a homeless. She stinks." A woman mutter as I walked by. No it couldn’t be. I just showered this morning. My hair still smelled like strawberries and coconut. But poverty had a scent, apparently. "Mr. Carter is inside." The guard took me to a closed door and warned, “Make it quick.” “Thank you.” The room inside looked like something out of a movie. Marble floors. White carpet. A chandelier that probably cost more than my apartment. And there he was. The man I used to love. Adjusting his bowtie in front of a mirror. Jace was still heartbreakingly handsome. No wonder Delilah fell for him. When he turned and fixed his gorgeous blue eyes upon me, I still felt my heart race. "Hey, Jace," I said quietly. And immediately, I wanted to punch myself. Hey, Jace?! That’s the best I could do? His face was ice cold. "You shouldn't come, Aria.” he said with a frown. “Your ratty suitcase, your ripped jeans, your Vans. None of that belongs here." Well if you wanted to be brutal and vicious, that’s how it’s done. "Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? You dumped me over a fucking email!" I snapped. He shrugged. "Look around you. The wealthiest people in the world came for me today. This suit I’m wearing cost more than you can make in your entire life. What more explanation do you want?" Wow. I always knew he was a cold, calculating bastard. I just didn’t realize how deep it ran. "Maybe chasing Alpha’s sister got you here faster. But you know what? When she finds out how shallow and cold you are. You’ll lose it all." Anger flared across his face. "I know how to love someone! I just won't waste that on a small-town girl like you.” he said freezingly, “Are we done here?" “No.” I took a deep breath and got into the real reason I came. "You're marrying a rich girl. Fine. But why did you have to get me fired?" Yeah. I used to work for this jerk. From intern to full-time at Apex Corp, he was my supervisor. Our office romance was a secret. And just days ago, I found out he was getting married with Apex CEO’s sister. And I was out of a job thanks to him. "Right, your job.” The jerk shrugged, “You got your job all thanks to me. Now that I’m not around, maybe they finally saw how incompetent and stupid you are. Problem?" Was he fucking kidding me?! "I graduated top of my class. Made it through 7 rounds of interviews. My performance exceeded every quarterly target. I earned that job!" I snapped. “Come on, Aria. You really gonna be so naïve?” He walked closer, smirking. "You passed the interviews because I said so. Your sales? I contacted those customers for you. Without me, you'd be nothing but a pretty face." He seized my chin and looked me over with a disgusting look. I slapped his hand away. "Give me my job back,” I hissed, my voice slightly trembling. “My dad’s debt. My grandma’s medical bills…I need the money. You of all people should know what it’s like to be poor. Don’t. Make. Me. Beg." I was throwing my pride at his feet. But he just laughed. "Well, how about I offer you a deal?" he said as though he’d been waiting for this moment. He brushed my hair back, fingers trailing down to my collarbone. I shivered in disgust. "You and I. We never fuck. You were so clinging to that pathetic no-sex-before-marriage rule. Maybe it's time to grow up. Let me fuck you once and I’ll write you very handsome check. How does that sound?" I widened my eyes in shock. Then I slapped him. HARD. “FUCKING HELL…What the hell are you doing?! I’m getting married in front of everyone in fucking 10 minutes!” He roared covering his swollen face. "Fuck you, Jace!” I yelled, “You're a spineless freeloading puss! And hey—congrats on the wedding. Hope your junk is soft like a fucking spaghetti tonight!" Then I stormed out dragging my suitcase and boxes, ignoring his angry curses behind me. Hot tears poured down as I dashed across the hallway. God this couldn’t be any worse. I was prepared to drop all my self-esteem and begged with my life. Because I needed the job and money. But I still let him get to me. Now what do I do? My salary barely covered my rent, my father’s debt and grandma’s bill. Now with my job gone, I already got kicked out by my landlord. I probably had to sleep in a park tonight. So do I go back and let that jerk win? Let him humiliate me...No. I’d rather die than that… "Hey, watch where you're going!" someone yelled. Too late. I slammed right into the man in front of me. He was tall. So tall I felt like I’d just walked into a brick wall. His diamond cufflink was sharp like a blade. When we collided, it sliced clean through my thin T-shirt with a loud rip. In one second, the front of my shirt was torn open, exposing my white lace bra. “Ah!” I gasped and looked up. This was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. His face was like a statue carved by a master artist. And his expression was so cold and distant. When he looked down at me, I swear I was about to drown in those stormy gray eyes of his. Suddenly, I recognized who he was. This was Alpha of Redstone Pack. CEO of Apex Corporation. Jace’s brother-in-law. THE legendary. Grayson Hart. “Aria Collins?” His voice was sexy and velvety. He lowered his head and his eyes dropped to the exposed part of my bra. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the color of his eyes seemed to darken as he stared. Wherever his gaze landed, my skin started burning up. But wait. How did he know my name? Chapter 2 With Ex's Brother-in-law Aria’s POV Of course I recognized him. God, who didn’t? I’d met him at the Apex gala. His face was on every finance magazine cover, and any time you turned on a TV, there he was—linked to the latest scandal with some actress or model. But there was no way he’d know who I was. “I-I…Hello, Alpha Grayson,” I stammered. He turned his eyes away and said to a nearby guard, “Escort Ms. Collins out.” “Yes, Alpha.” The guards stepped in immediately, stretching out their arms like I was some kind of contaminant that might taint Grayson’s perfectly tailored suit. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to say something about my shirt?” It’s torn beyond repair and was showing my breasts. He paused. Just for a brief second. Then flicked something down at my feet. I looked down. A blank check. “I need a shirt that can cover my front. Not your hush money.” I gritted with humiliation. But he didn’t even glance back and just walked away. “God,” I muttered under my breath. Can you believe these rich bastards? They think they can buy everything with money. People nearby were all staring, snickering under their breath. I tried to cover my chest and grab my things to escape, but it was hard to do all that with just two hands. “Oh my god…Aria Collins?” Three girls emerged from the whispering crowd. I took one look at them and sighed internally. Great. Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse. “Hello. Layla. Sabrina. Brielle.” I said dryly. I used to work in the same team with these girls back at Apex. We were all under Jace. These girls adored Jace. They spent more time flirting with him by the coffee machine than actually working. Which left me doing most of their work. After I got fired, and when news of my secret relationship with Jace got out, they decided I was public enemy number one. “What are you even doing here, Aria? Trying to win back your ex at his wedding? That’s a new low even for you,” Layla snickered. “I’m not here to win anyone back.” I tried to push past them. But they blocked me. “What happened to your shirt?” Brielle snickered. “Did you seriously walk in here with your bra out? Is this like some low-budget fashion statement?” They burst into laughter together. “You could be completely naked and Jace still wouldn’t give a damn,” Sabrina squeaked. “Because he’s marrying Lady Delilah. THE Delilah Hart! Redstone Pack’s sweetheart. And you…well you’re just a poor-ass small-town girl.” I stopped in my track and gave them a cold glare, “Oh yeah? Well at least this smalltown girl actually dated Jace. And you all got nothing. Do you know how many times I had to listen to him complained about your screechy voices and cheesy perfume after we got home? Apparently he rather be with me than any of you.” Their jaws dropped. “Jace would never say that!” Brielle cried. “And my perfume isn’t cheesy!” Sabrina screamed. “Word for word,” I rolled my eyes. “Now move. Or I’m rolling this suitcase over your pretty little skirts.” They looked like ruffled chickens, but they parted. I quickly shoved my dingy luggage ahead like a weapon and stormed out of the church. Rich people were assholes. Grayson, Jace, and their whole damn minions. I struggled to get my suitcase down the steps, and once I hit the street, cold wind slapped me in the face. It’s almost night. But I had no idea where to go. I could crash in the hospital with my grandma, but she’d ask too many questions. Like why I hadn’t brought Jace around recently, or why I wasn’t staying at my apartment. I didn’t want her to know how bad things had gotten. I thought about the park. Sleeping on a bench. But in a ripped T-shirt that exposed my whole front? Horrible idea. So I texted my best friend, May, asking to stay at her place for a few days. She was my rock. If the whole world turned against me, at least I still had her. She texted back right away inviting me to come over. Dragging my suitcase across the street toward the bus stop, I told myself it was going to be okay. This horrible day was going to end. Then I heard them. “Hey, nice shirt!” A group of street wolves were loitering near the stop. I hugged myself tighter and curled into the bench, hoping they’d get bored and leave. “C’mon baby, drop your hands. Let us see what you’re working with.” Go away. Go away. Go away. “You rip that shirt yourself? Damn that’s wild. I like that in a girl.” One of them moved closer, reaching for my shoulder. “Fuck off!” I snapped, my voice shaking. But it only fired them up. “Oh, feisty. Shake those tits for me!” They grabbed my wrists, yanked my arms down. My T-shirt gaped open completely, revealing my lace bra. The cold air made my skin pebble. They laughed even louder. I struggled and screamed. My wolf growled in rage. Shifting in the city was illegal…but right now, I didn’t have a second choice… Just then. Blinding headlights. Followed by screeching tires. A silver car skidded to a stop inches away. The door flew open. A deep voice thundered: “Get in.” I was too shocked that I didn’t think twice and obeyed. The car peeled away the second I shut the door. “My suitcase!” I cried. “Someone will get it,” he said darkly. “Address.” I told the driver May’s, my body still shaking. Then he pressed a button. A privacy screen slid up between the front and back seats, sealing us in the back. That’s when he turned toward me and leaned in. Like a beast ready to pounce. His scent hit me. It’s sharp pine mixed with cold metal. My head started to get dizzy. “Walking on the street in that shirt was a mistake,” he said darkly. “It got like this because of you,” I mumbled. He snorted. Then there’s the sound of rustling fabric. A heavy jacket landed across my shoulders. It was still warm from his body and carried his scent. I held my breath. Wearing his coat almost felt like…he was wrapping himself around me. “Alpha Grayson…do you know me?” I whispered. My gut told me that he would never do this for a strange girl. But if he knew who I was, he must know that I was his sister’s husband’s ex. That didn’t explain why he would help. “We’ve met,” he said simply. I stared at him, searching those icy gray eyes. He was staring at me too, with those cold, hungry, possessive eyes. I felt like I was completely naked in front of him. “Aria,” he warned, voice thick and husky. But I couldn’t control myself. I was leaning forward. Shit. Why did my body become so weird? My skin was on fire. My panties were wet. All I wanted was more of his scent. More of his heat. The next second his lips crashed onto mine. Hard. Rough. I gasped and opened my mouth for him. His tongue slipped in and explored every inch of my mouth, making me shiver. His hands pushed into my torn shirt and grabbed my breast. I couldn’t control my moan when he touched my naked skin. This…This was crazy. He was a stranger, and most importantly, my ex’s brother-in-law. And I was making out with him at the back of his car. The crazy part was I didn’t even want to stop. He lifted me onto his lap like I weighed nothing. I straddled his thighs and yanked at his tie as he bit my collarbone. Then, suddenly, the car stopped. “Alpha, we’ve arrived,” the driver said behind the screen. That’s when it all froze. His lips paused at my neck. I was still squirming on his lap, flushed and throbbing. But he shoved me off. “We can’t do this,” he said coldly. Chapter 3 You're Special To Him Aria’s POV “So you’re telling me this guy made out with you in the backseat of his car… and then just shoved you off like nothing happened?” May asked in shock. 20 minutes later, I was sitting at her place, wrapped in one of her oversized hoodies, a steaming mug of tea in my hands. But I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. “Yup,” I muttered. “Who knows what’s wrong with him.” “What an asshole,” she huffed. “But honestly, this really isn’t like you. You dated that jerk Jace for 4 years and didn’t even sleep with him—which, by the way, was a brilliant choice—and now you're suddenly making out with a complete stranger in his car?” I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say. Yeah, she had a point. “I—I don’t know. Maybe it was the whole Jace-getting-married thing. Maybe I just snapped and wanted to screw around with someone hotter just to get back at him…Honestly, it was so stupid now that I think of it.” She grinned and wiggled her brows. “So… he was hot huh?” My cheeks flushed and my mind drifted back. Those stormy gray eyes, his perfectly shaped lips on my neck, and those arms that could pick me up like I weighed nothing…Shit I need to stop. “Yeah. VERY,” I whispered, hiding my red face behind the mug. May burst out laughing. “Now we’re talking! That’s exactly what you need right now—a drop-dead gorgeous rebound to get that loser Jace out of your system. Screw your ‘no sex before marriage’ rule. Life is short.” I gave her a weak smile. Honestly, I didn’t need a rebound. I needed a job, money, and a place to live. Grayson Hart was like dessert when you can’t even afford dinner. “So… do you even know who this guy was?” she asked. I hesitated. Right at this moment, the doorbell rang. She jumped up to get it and came back a few minutes later, hauling in my luggage, her face frozen in disbelief. “OMG. You are not gonna believe what just showed up outside.” “Umm… my luggage?” I joked. “Two fucking muscular guys in black suits and guns! And a freaking stretch limo! They called me ‘ma’am’ and said they hope Miss Aria has a wonderful evening. Now, you—” She leapt at me and shook me by the shoulders. “—you tell me right now who the hell you hooked up with!” I squealed and dropped into the couch with her, laughing and giggling breathlessly. “Okay, okay—I’ll tell you. It was… Grayson Hart.” I practically whispered his name. Because honestly, I still couldn’t believe it either. May froze, eyes wide as saucers. “Grayson—THE Grayson Hart?! As in our Alpha? The CEO of Apex?!” “And Jace’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. Now you know how stupid I was earlier?” She let out a full-on scream. Then she grabbed my hand, her face flushed with excitement. “Oh my God! Aria, do you know what this means? Alpha Grayson never even lends his jacket to his model girlfriends. He likes you. You’re special!” “No,” I said firmly. “If I was special, he wouldn’t have thrown me off his lap when I tried to take off his shirt.” “Maybe he had somewhere to be—” “Don’t, May. Let’s be real. Guys like him don’t fall for girls like me.” I took another sip of tea, hiding the ache in my chest. Hell even Jace thought I was beneath him. What chance did I have with Grayson freaking Hart? “Don’t be silly, Aria. You’re gorgeous. And smart and amazing and—WAIT! I just had the best idea ever.” “What?” “That arrogant jerk Jace thinks you’re just some small-town prude who wasn’t good enough for him right? But what if you ended up with Alpha Grayson? It’ll be easy to get him because he’s already obsessed. Oh, it would destroy Jace. That dickhead would never recover.” OKAY. I’d be lying if I said that exact scenario hadn’t crossed my mind when Grayson kissed me back. What girl hasn’t daydreamed about dating the perfect guy and getting revenge in the most dramatic way possible? But right now, I couldn’t afford to daydream. Reality was already breathing down my neck. “Tempting. But right now I need a job and enough cash to keep Grandma in her hospital bed. Dating rich dudes isn’t exactly high on my to-do list.” May looked at me with soft eyes. “So…any plans? I can try to hook you up with a job, but you know I just work at a coffee shop, and with your degree, you deserve so much more.” I hugged her. “Thank you. Really. I’ll figure something out. Apex promised me severance when they fired me, so I’m going to HR tomorrow to get it sorted.” If I could get that money, at least I’d be OK for the next round of Grandma’s medical bills. — The next morning, I showed up at Apex right on time. But the second Brielle walked in with the HR manager, I had a bad feeling. “What’s she doing here?” I asked coldly. “I’ll explain in a minute,” HR replied with a polite, rehearsed smile as she sat across from me. “So Ms. Collins, I understand you’re here to discuss severance?” “Yes. So let’s not waste time. Just give me the check and I’ll be out of here.” “Unfortunately, severance only applies when the company terminates a contract without cause. In your case… it appears you were let go due to misconduct.” Misconduct? What the freaking hell. “Jace made a snap decision and booted me. What misconduct are you talking about?” “But that’s not what Mr. Carter said. He provided evidence that you made a costly error on a sales quote—omitting a few zeroes, to be exact. Cost the company millions. Here’s the email record.” She handed me a printed sheet. I swore I had never sent this email in my life. But there it was—my name in the sender field. No freaking way. Jace forged this. “And Mr. Carter reported that you had a difficult attitude toward your coworkers. Quote: ‘impatient and arrogant.’ Brielle’s here to verify that.” Brielle twirled her hair and smiled smugly. “Yeah. Aria was a horrible team player.” I stood so fast my chair screeched. “The only thing I didn’t ‘teamplayed’ with you was flirt with the boss in the breakroom!” “Liar!” she yelled. “And I asked Jace. He never said my voice was screechy!” Oh my God. I couldn’t believe how stupid she was. “Sit down, Miss Collins,” HR warned. “As of now, not only are you not getting severance, but we’re also considering legal action to recover the losses. If you understand the situation here, sign this acknowledgement—” “Does Alpha Grayson know about this?” I asked. Both of them froze. After a long pause, HR finally found her voice. “What does Alpha Grayson have to do with any of this?” “He owns Apex, doesn’t he? Does he know his team is abusing their power and firing hardworking employees illegally?” HR frowned. Brielle let out a loud snort. “Please. Don’t act like you know Alpha Grayson.” “What if I do? What if I go to him and then it’s you who gets fired?” She laughed in my face. “Oh, you mean you know him on TV?” “Let’s find out.” I shoved my chair back and stormed out, heading straight for the CEO’s private elevator at the end of the hall. HR scrambled after me, shouting my name. I was too furious to care how this ended. All I wanted now was to blow the whole damn place up. Two guards stood by the elevator. “I need to see Alpha Grayson,” I told them. “Appointment?” “No, but I swear he knows me. Just tell him it’s Aria—from yesterday. He’ll remember.” “You aren’t the first girl here saying that,” one of them mocked. “Come on, Miss Collins,” HR snapped, trying to drag me back. “This is getting crazy. Go back, sign the paper. Take responsibility for your own mistake.” “I didn’t send that email. It was Jace—he’s framing me! I will report all of you.” “Alpha Grayson doesn’t have time for your report, or your visit, or any of your little drama!” “I believe no one but me has the right to decide that,” a cold voice said behind us. Chapter 4 Take Me, Please Aria’s POV A large hand grabbed my arm and pulled me away from HR’s grip. I looked up and my heart almost stopped. Even I couldn’t believe he just showed up here. It felt like a dream. “A-Alpha Grayson,” HR stammered, her face frozen with shock and fear. “I don’t need employees who think they can make decisions for their boss,” he said freezingly while wrapping his arm around my waist. “If I see something like this again, you’re fired.” “Y-yes, Alpha. I’m terribly sorry…” HR’s expression was priceless, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. His icy pine scent consumed me again, making my body weak and hot. My wolf let out a soft purr, urging me to lean into him. But before I could even move, he let go. A pang of disappointment hit me in the chest. “Come,” he said shortly, striding toward the private elevator. I shot HR and the stunned security guards a smug look, then hurried after him. He swiped his card and the elevator doors closed. We started going up to the 58th floor. It was dead silent. My heart was beating so wildly that I was afraid he’d hear it. I snuck a glance at him—he just stared straight ahead, emotionless, keeping a distance, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Unease twisted my stomach. “So, um… what brings you here today?” I broke the silence. He sighed softly. “I owe this company.” “Oh, Oh…Right.” I wanted to punch myself in the face. The awkward silence lingered until the elevator dinged open. The 58th floor was a wide-open space with no cubicles or dividers—just massive floor-to-ceiling windows and a sweeping view of the entire city. “Wow,” I whispered under my breath. Grayson was already walking ahead. I jogged to catch up as he led me into an office at the far end of the floor. A stunning female assistant closed the door behind us, and once again, it was just the two of us. My heart rocketed back into my throat. He casually unbuttoned his jacket. It was amazing how he made even that look sexy. “So you insisted on seeing me?” he asked. He didn’t ask me to sit. He didn’t even move closer. That distance stung a little. “I worked here till a week ago when I found out I was let go for no reason…” I quickly told him the story of how I was fired. “This is clearly illegal in so many ways… can you help me get my job back?” “Unfortunately, no,” he replied, barely hesitating. My heart dropped like a stone. “Why not?” “I’ll have the hiring department look into whether your termination followed proper protocol. But this isn’t something a CEO handles directly. Anything else?” The hiring department? That could take weeks—and I didn’t have weeks. “No… you don’t get it,” I stepped forward, my voice trembling. “My grandma’s in the hospital. Her bills are getting insane every month. And I’m already deep in debt… If I can’t make money, I don’t even know— I really, REALLY need this job.” I knew we came from two different worlds, but laying out the most desperate parts of my life in front of him still made me feel horribly exposed. I just hoped—begged—that he’d understand. But he didn’t. His gray eyes stayed emotionless. “I’m sorry, Miss Collins,” he said quietly. Tears rushed into my eyes. I couldn’t even breathe. All I could think about were the bills, the debt, the mountain of shit waiting for me the second I left this building. “If there’s nothing else, my assistant will show you out.” he said, reaching for the intercom. I rushed forward and pressed my hand down on his before he could call anyone in. His whole body stiffened—but he didn’t pull away. He just stared down at me. I stepped in closer, tilting my head up. His gray eyes darkened like a storm brewing in the distance. His pine scent wrapped around me again, thick and intoxicating. As werewolves, our scent only spikes during a fight or sexual arousal. It was damn obvious which case this was. “You clearly feel something for me,” I whispered. He said nothing. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was racing as well. His breathing had also turned shallow. “What are you doing, Miss Collins?” he asked tightly. “Trying to seduce your way into a job?” “You can do whatever you want,” I locked eyes with him. “I won’t stop you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. God, I wanted to lick it. And… well, I did. I leaned up and pressed my lips to it. He let out a growl. The next second, I was pinned on his desk. He stood between my spread legs, one hand by my head. I whimpered, clamping my thighs together—the heat between them was almost unbearable. Just like in the backseat of his car. His hand slid from the desk to my throat. It was so big, he could probably snap my neck if he wanted. “You shouldn’t keep tempting me, Miss Collins.” His body was pressed against my thighs—I definitely felt the effect I was having on him. “Why?” I whispered, licking my lips. “Because your self-control isn’t as strong as you thought?” “Because I don’t fuck virgins.” What the actual hell??? The next second, he had pulled away. I scrambled off the desk, face red, eyes wide. “What did you just say?!” I snapped. “Why—How the hell do you even know—?” “I know who you are. And I know about your relationship with my sister’s husband.” And just like that, everything clicked. It was Jace. That bastard didn’t just dump me—he ran his mouth about my virginity to everyone, including Grayson. Humiliation crashed over me like a wave. “Jace is a fucking asshole,” I snapped shakily. Grayson shrugged. “Obviously. But Brielle likes him. And he’s family now. I’m sorry but I just can’t get involved in this.” I climbed off his desk with my whole body red and shaking. He didn’t want me. And he was taking his sister and Jace’s side. I was so damn stupid to think that one kiss in the car actually meant anything. But this was Grayson Hart for Christ’s sake. He could have anyone he wanted. “I’m sure you’re a very capable employee, Miss Collins. But seducing me won’t help your career. I wish you all the best.” He finally pressed the intercom button. His assistant appeared at the door, waiting for me to leave. “Bye,” I whispered without even look back. I didn’t want him to notice my falling tears. I walked out of that office, numb, and rode the elevator down like a ghost. My mind was a storm of bills, debt, and Grayson’s ice-cold stare. Now I desperately needed a new job. “Miss Collins!” I turned and saw his assistant come rushing out again, holding an envelope. “Alpha Grayson asked me to give you this,” she said, handing it over. “What is it?” Why didn’t he give it to me earlier? “He didn’t say. Maybe you’ll know once you open it.” She gave me a mysterious smile and walked away. I opened the envelope. A blank check slid out first—I held my breath in shock. Then I found a crumpled note. His handwriting, rushed and messy. Haven’t repaid you for the shirt. Hope everything works out for you Aria. Stay strong. —Grayson
I stood in front of the chapel. Pink roses and white lilies decorated every corner. My favorite flowers. The guests were already seated. Soon, at the end of the red carpet would stand the man I once loved, waiting to marry his bride. Everything was perfect. Except I wasn't the bride. “I really need to see Jace today.” I begged the bodyguard blocking the door. A beat-up suitcase and two boxes sat at my feet. Everything I owned in the world. "No you don’t. Get out of here," the bodyguard said icily. I saw disgust in his eyes. Yeah I get it. No one has sympathy for the crazy ex who shows up at the wedding. But I have my reason to be here. "If you don't let me see him, I'll just stand here and all the guests will see me," I threatened under my breath. Jace wouldn't want that. Especially not today. Because today, he was marrying Delilah Hart. She is the sister to Alpha Grayson Hart of Redstone Pack. A 100% high-society darling. All the guys in the world knew that marrying Delilah would totally change their lives, including Jace. So he made the easy call—marrying the lady who could turn him from a small-town nobody into a golden boy. And dump the girl who stayed by his side for last 4 years when he had nothing. He didn’t want any guests to see me here. Because I represented his broke, embarrassing past. He wanted me nowhere near his glittering new world. Tears stung my eyes as I thought of that. Like a knife was twisting in my chest. “Let me in or I’m starting to yell.” I choked. The bodyguard frowned. "Wait here." He finally called somebody. A few minutes later, he waved me in. I wiped my eyes and struggled into the hall with my suitcase and boxes. Instantly, I felt out of place. Everything reeked of wealth here. Expensive perfume. Manicured nails. Not a hair out of place. It was everything you imagined about the upper-class and way more. And me? I was wearing a baggy T-shirt and jeans. My sneakers had holes. "God, a homeless. She stinks." A woman mutter as I walked by. No it couldn’t be. I just showered this morning. My hair still smelled like strawberries and coconut. But poverty had a scent, apparently. "Mr. Carter is inside." The guard took me to a closed door and warned, “Make it quick.” “Thank you.” The room inside looked like something out of a movie. Marble floors. White carpet. A chandelier that probably cost more than my apartment. And there he was. The man I used to love. Adjusting his bowtie in front of a mirror. Jace was still heartbreakingly handsome. No wonder Delilah fell for him. When he turned and fixed his gorgeous blue eyes upon me, I still felt my heart race. "Hey, Jace," I said quietly. And immediately, I wanted to punch myself. Hey, Jace?! That’s the best I could do? His face was ice cold. "You shouldn't come, Aria.” he said with a frown. “Your ratty suitcase, your ripped jeans, your Vans. None of that belongs here." Well if you wanted to be brutal and vicious, that’s how it’s done. "Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? You dumped me over a fucking email!" I snapped. He shrugged. "Look around you. The wealthiest people in the world came for me today. This suit I’m wearing cost more than you can make in your entire life. What more explanation do you want?" Wow. I always knew he was a cold, calculating bastard. I just didn’t realize how deep it ran. "Maybe chasing Alpha’s sister got you here faster. But you know what? When she finds out how shallow and cold you are. You’ll lose it all." Anger flared across his face. "I know how to love someone! I just won't waste that on a small-town girl like you.” he said freezingly, “Are we done here?" “No.” I took a deep breath and got into the real reason I came. "You're marrying a rich girl. Fine. But why did you have to get me fired?" Yeah. I used to work for this jerk. From intern to full-time at Apex Corp, he was my supervisor. Our office romance was a secret. And just days ago, I found out he was getting married with Apex CEO’s sister. And I was out of a job thanks to him. "Right, your job.” The jerk shrugged, “You got your job all thanks to me. Now that I’m not around, maybe they finally saw how incompetent and stupid you are. Problem?" Was he fucking kidding me?! "I graduated top of my class. Made it through 7 rounds of interviews. My performance exceeded every quarterly target. I earned that job!" I snapped. “Come on, Aria. You really gonna be so naïve?” He walked closer, smirking. "You passed the interviews because I said so. Your sales? I contacted those customers for you. Without me, you'd be nothing but a pretty face." He seized my chin and looked me over with a disgusting look. I slapped his hand away. "Give me my job back,” I hissed, my voice slightly trembling. “My dad’s debt. My grandma’s medical bills…I need the money. You of all people should know what it’s like to be poor. Don’t. Make. Me. Beg." I was throwing my pride at his feet. But he just laughed. "Well, how about I offer you a deal?" he said as though he’d been waiting for this moment. He brushed my hair back, fingers trailing down to my collarbone. I shivered in disgust. "You and I. We never fuck. You were so clinging to that pathetic no-sex-before-marriage rule. Maybe it's time to grow up. Let me fuck you once and I’ll write you very handsome check. How does that sound?" I widened my eyes in shock. Then I slapped him. HARD. “FUCKING HELL…What the hell are you doing?! I’m getting married in front of everyone in fucking 10 minutes!” He roared covering his swollen face. "Fuck you, Jace!” I yelled, “You're a spineless freeloading puss! And hey—congrats on the wedding. Hope your junk is soft like a fucking spaghetti tonight!" Then I stormed out dragging my suitcase and boxes, ignoring his angry curses behind me. Hot tears poured down as I dashed across the hallway. God this couldn’t be any worse. I was prepared to drop all my self-esteem and begged with my life. Because I needed the job and money. But I still let him get to me. Now what do I do? My salary barely covered my rent, my father’s debt and grandma’s bill. Now with my job gone, I already got kicked out by my landlord. I probably had to sleep in a park tonight. So do I go back and let that jerk win? Let him humiliate me...No. I’d rather die than that… "Hey, watch where you're going!" someone yelled. Too late. I slammed right into the man in front of me. He was tall. So tall I felt like I’d just walked into a brick wall. His diamond cufflink was sharp like a blade. When we collided, it sliced clean through my thin T-shirt with a loud rip. In one second, the front of my shirt was torn open, exposing my white lace bra. “Ah!” I gasped and looked up. This was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. His face was like a statue carved by a master artist. And his expression was so cold and distant. When he looked down at me, I swear I was about to drown in those stormy gray eyes of his. Suddenly, I recognized who he was. This was Alpha of Redstone Pack. CEO of Apex Corporation. Jace’s brother-in-law. THE legendary. Grayson Hart. “Aria Collins?” His voice was sexy and velvety. He lowered his head and his eyes dropped to the exposed part of my bra. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the color of his eyes seemed to darken as he stared. Wherever his gaze landed, my skin started burning up. But wait. How did he know my name? Chapter 2 With Ex's Brother-in-law Aria’s POV Of course I recognized him. God, who didn’t? I’d met him at the Apex gala. His face was on every finance magazine cover, and any time you turned on a TV, there he was—linked to the latest scandal with some actress or model. But there was no way he’d know who I was. “I-I…Hello, Alpha Grayson,” I stammered. He turned his eyes away and said to a nearby guard, “Escort Ms. Collins out.” “Yes, Alpha.” The guards stepped in immediately, stretching out their arms like I was some kind of contaminant that might taint Grayson’s perfectly tailored suit. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to say something about my shirt?” It’s torn beyond repair and was showing my breasts. He paused. Just for a brief second. Then flicked something down at my feet. I looked down. A blank check. “I need a shirt that can cover my front. Not your hush money.” I gritted with humiliation. But he didn’t even glance back and just walked away. “God,” I muttered under my breath. Can you believe these rich bastards? They think they can buy everything with money. People nearby were all staring, snickering under their breath. I tried to cover my chest and grab my things to escape, but it was hard to do all that with just two hands. “Oh my god…Aria Collins?” Three girls emerged from the whispering crowd. I took one look at them and sighed internally. Great. Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse. “Hello. Layla. Sabrina. Brielle.” I said dryly. I used to work in the same team with these girls back at Apex. We were all under Jace. These girls adored Jace. They spent more time flirting with him by the coffee machine than actually working. Which left me doing most of their work. After I got fired, and when news of my secret relationship with Jace got out, they decided I was public enemy number one. “What are you even doing here, Aria? Trying to win back your ex at his wedding? That’s a new low even for you,” Layla snickered. “I’m not here to win anyone back.” I tried to push past them. But they blocked me. “What happened to your shirt?” Brielle snickered. “Did you seriously walk in here with your bra out? Is this like some low-budget fashion statement?” They burst into laughter together. “You could be completely naked and Jace still wouldn’t give a damn,” Sabrina squeaked. “Because he’s marrying Lady Delilah. THE Delilah Hart! Redstone Pack’s sweetheart. And you…well you’re just a poor-ass small-town girl.” I stopped in my track and gave them a cold glare, “Oh yeah? Well at least this smalltown girl actually dated Jace. And you all got nothing. Do you know how many times I had to listen to him complained about your screechy voices and cheesy perfume after we got home? Apparently he rather be with me than any of you.” Their jaws dropped. “Jace would never say that!” Brielle cried. “And my perfume isn’t cheesy!” Sabrina screamed. “Word for word,” I rolled my eyes. “Now move. Or I’m rolling this suitcase over your pretty little skirts.” They looked like ruffled chickens, but they parted. I quickly shoved my dingy luggage ahead like a weapon and stormed out of the church. Rich people were assholes. Grayson, Jace, and their whole damn minions. I struggled to get my suitcase down the steps, and once I hit the street, cold wind slapped me in the face. It’s almost night. But I had no idea where to go. I could crash in the hospital with my grandma, but she’d ask too many questions. Like why I hadn’t brought Jace around recently, or why I wasn’t staying at my apartment. I didn’t want her to know how bad things had gotten. I thought about the park. Sleeping on a bench. But in a ripped T-shirt that exposed my whole front? Horrible idea. So I texted my best friend, May, asking to stay at her place for a few days. She was my rock. If the whole world turned against me, at least I still had her. She texted back right away inviting me to come over. Dragging my suitcase across the street toward the bus stop, I told myself it was going to be okay. This horrible day was going to end. Then I heard them. “Hey, nice shirt!” A group of street wolves were loitering near the stop. I hugged myself tighter and curled into the bench, hoping they’d get bored and leave. “C’mon baby, drop your hands. Let us see what you’re working with.” Go away. Go away. Go away. “You rip that shirt yourself? Damn that’s wild. I like that in a girl.” One of them moved closer, reaching for my shoulder. “Fuck off!” I snapped, my voice shaking. But it only fired them up. “Oh, feisty. Shake those tits for me!” They grabbed my wrists, yanked my arms down. My T-shirt gaped open completely, revealing my lace bra. The cold air made my skin pebble. They laughed even louder. I struggled and screamed. My wolf growled in rage. Shifting in the city was illegal…but right now, I didn’t have a second choice… Just then. Blinding headlights. Followed by screeching tires. A silver car skidded to a stop inches away. The door flew open. A deep voice thundered: “Get in.” I was too shocked that I didn’t think twice and obeyed. The car peeled away the second I shut the door. “My suitcase!” I cried. “Someone will get it,” he said darkly. “Address.” I told the driver May’s, my body still shaking. Then he pressed a button. A privacy screen slid up between the front and back seats, sealing us in the back. That’s when he turned toward me and leaned in. Like a beast ready to pounce. His scent hit me. It’s sharp pine mixed with cold metal. My head started to get dizzy. “Walking on the street in that shirt was a mistake,” he said darkly. “It got like this because of you,” I mumbled. He snorted. Then there’s the sound of rustling fabric. A heavy jacket landed across my shoulders. It was still warm from his body and carried his scent. I held my breath. Wearing his coat almost felt like…he was wrapping himself around me. “Alpha Grayson…do you know me?” I whispered. My gut told me that he would never do this for a strange girl. But if he knew who I was, he must know that I was his sister’s husband’s ex. That didn’t explain why he would help. “We’ve met,” he said simply. I stared at him, searching those icy gray eyes. He was staring at me too, with those cold, hungry, possessive eyes. I felt like I was completely naked in front of him. “Aria,” he warned, voice thick and husky. But I couldn’t control myself. I was leaning forward. Shit. Why did my body become so weird? My skin was on fire. My panties were wet. All I wanted was more of his scent. More of his heat. The next second his lips crashed onto mine. Hard. Rough. I gasped and opened my mouth for him. His tongue slipped in and explored every inch of my mouth, making me shiver. His hands pushed into my torn shirt and grabbed my breast. I couldn’t control my moan when he touched my naked skin. This…This was crazy. He was a stranger, and most importantly, my ex’s brother-in-law. And I was making out with him at the back of his car. The crazy part was I didn’t even want to stop. He lifted me onto his lap like I weighed nothing. I straddled his thighs and yanked at his tie as he bit my collarbone. Then, suddenly, the car stopped. “Alpha, we’ve arrived,” the driver said behind the screen. That’s when it all froze. His lips paused at my neck. I was still squirming on his lap, flushed and throbbing. But he shoved me off. “We can’t do this,” he said coldly. Chapter 3 You're Special To Him Aria’s POV “So you’re telling me this guy made out with you in the backseat of his car… and then just shoved you off like nothing happened?” May asked in shock. 20 minutes later, I was sitting at her place, wrapped in one of her oversized hoodies, a steaming mug of tea in my hands. But I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. “Yup,” I muttered. “Who knows what’s wrong with him.” “What an asshole,” she huffed. “But honestly, this really isn’t like you. You dated that jerk Jace for 4 years and didn’t even sleep with him—which, by the way, was a brilliant choice—and now you're suddenly making out with a complete stranger in his car?” I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say. Yeah, she had a point. “I—I don’t know. Maybe it was the whole Jace-getting-married thing. Maybe I just snapped and wanted to screw around with someone hotter just to get back at him…Honestly, it was so stupid now that I think of it.” She grinned and wiggled her brows. “So… he was hot huh?” My cheeks flushed and my mind drifted back. Those stormy gray eyes, his perfectly shaped lips on my neck, and those arms that could pick me up like I weighed nothing…Shit I need to stop. “Yeah. VERY,” I whispered, hiding my red face behind the mug. May burst out laughing. “Now we’re talking! That’s exactly what you need right now—a drop-dead gorgeous rebound to get that loser Jace out of your system. Screw your ‘no sex before marriage’ rule. Life is short.” I gave her a weak smile. Honestly, I didn’t need a rebound. I needed a job, money, and a place to live. Grayson Hart was like dessert when you can’t even afford dinner. “So… do you even know who this guy was?” she asked. I hesitated. Right at this moment, the doorbell rang. She jumped up to get it and came back a few minutes later, hauling in my luggage, her face frozen in disbelief. “OMG. You are not gonna believe what just showed up outside.” “Umm… my luggage?” I joked. “Two fucking muscular guys in black suits and guns! And a freaking stretch limo! They called me ‘ma’am’ and said they hope Miss Aria has a wonderful evening. Now, you—” She leapt at me and shook me by the shoulders. “—you tell me right now who the hell you hooked up with!” I squealed and dropped into the couch with her, laughing and giggling breathlessly. “Okay, okay—I’ll tell you. It was… Grayson Hart.” I practically whispered his name. Because honestly, I still couldn’t believe it either. May froze, eyes wide as saucers. “Grayson—THE Grayson Hart?! As in our Alpha? The CEO of Apex?!” “And Jace’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. Now you know how stupid I was earlier?” She let out a full-on scream. Then she grabbed my hand, her face flushed with excitement. “Oh my God! Aria, do you know what this means? Alpha Grayson never even lends his jacket to his model girlfriends. He likes you. You’re special!” “No,” I said firmly. “If I was special, he wouldn’t have thrown me off his lap when I tried to take off his shirt.” “Maybe he had somewhere to be—” “Don’t, May. Let’s be real. Guys like him don’t fall for girls like me.” I took another sip of tea, hiding the ache in my chest. Hell even Jace thought I was beneath him. What chance did I have with Grayson freaking Hart? “Don’t be silly, Aria. You’re gorgeous. And smart and amazing and—WAIT! I just had the best idea ever.” “What?” “That arrogant jerk Jace thinks you’re just some small-town prude who wasn’t good enough for him right? But what if you ended up with Alpha Grayson? It’ll be easy to get him because he’s already obsessed. Oh, it would destroy Jace. That dickhead would never recover.” OKAY. I’d be lying if I said that exact scenario hadn’t crossed my mind when Grayson kissed me back. What girl hasn’t daydreamed about dating the perfect guy and getting revenge in the most dramatic way possible? But right now, I couldn’t afford to daydream. Reality was already breathing down my neck. “Tempting. But right now I need a job and enough cash to keep Grandma in her hospital bed. Dating rich dudes isn’t exactly high on my to-do list.” May looked at me with soft eyes. “So…any plans? I can try to hook you up with a job, but you know I just work at a coffee shop, and with your degree, you deserve so much more.” I hugged her. “Thank you. Really. I’ll figure something out. Apex promised me severance when they fired me, so I’m going to HR tomorrow to get it sorted.” If I could get that money, at least I’d be OK for the next round of Grandma’s medical bills. — The next morning, I showed up at Apex right on time. But the second Brielle walked in with the HR manager, I had a bad feeling. “What’s she doing here?” I asked coldly. “I’ll explain in a minute,” HR replied with a polite, rehearsed smile as she sat across from me. “So Ms. Collins, I understand you’re here to discuss severance?” “Yes. So let’s not waste time. Just give me the check and I’ll be out of here.” “Unfortunately, severance only applies when the company terminates a contract without cause. In your case… it appears you were let go due to misconduct.” Misconduct? What the freaking hell. “Jace made a snap decision and booted me. What misconduct are you talking about?” “But that’s not what Mr. Carter said. He provided evidence that you made a costly error on a sales quote—omitting a few zeroes, to be exact. Cost the company millions. Here’s the email record.” She handed me a printed sheet. I swore I had never sent this email in my life. But there it was—my name in the sender field. No freaking way. Jace forged this. “And Mr. Carter reported that you had a difficult attitude toward your coworkers. Quote: ‘impatient and arrogant.’ Brielle’s here to verify that.” Brielle twirled her hair and smiled smugly. “Yeah. Aria was a horrible team player.” I stood so fast my chair screeched. “The only thing I didn’t ‘teamplayed’ with you was flirt with the boss in the breakroom!” “Liar!” she yelled. “And I asked Jace. He never said my voice was screechy!” Oh my God. I couldn’t believe how stupid she was. “Sit down, Miss Collins,” HR warned. “As of now, not only are you not getting severance, but we’re also considering legal action to recover the losses. If you understand the situation here, sign this acknowledgement—” “Does Alpha Grayson know about this?” I asked. Both of them froze. After a long pause, HR finally found her voice. “What does Alpha Grayson have to do with any of this?” “He owns Apex, doesn’t he? Does he know his team is abusing their power and firing hardworking employees illegally?” HR frowned. Brielle let out a loud snort. “Please. Don’t act like you know Alpha Grayson.” “What if I do? What if I go to him and then it’s you who gets fired?” She laughed in my face. “Oh, you mean you know him on TV?” “Let’s find out.” I shoved my chair back and stormed out, heading straight for the CEO’s private elevator at the end of the hall. HR scrambled after me, shouting my name. I was too furious to care how this ended. All I wanted now was to blow the whole damn place up. Two guards stood by the elevator. “I need to see Alpha Grayson,” I told them. “Appointment?” “No, but I swear he knows me. Just tell him it’s Aria—from yesterday. He’ll remember.” “You aren’t the first girl here saying that,” one of them mocked. “Come on, Miss Collins,” HR snapped, trying to drag me back. “This is getting crazy. Go back, sign the paper. Take responsibility for your own mistake.” “I didn’t send that email. It was Jace—he’s framing me! I will report all of you.” “Alpha Grayson doesn’t have time for your report, or your visit, or any of your little drama!” “I believe no one but me has the right to decide that,” a cold voice said behind us. Chapter 4 Take Me, Please Aria’s POV A large hand grabbed my arm and pulled me away from HR’s grip. I looked up and my heart almost stopped. Even I couldn’t believe he just showed up here. It felt like a dream. “A-Alpha Grayson,” HR stammered, her face frozen with shock and fear. “I don’t need employees who think they can make decisions for their boss,” he said freezingly while wrapping his arm around my waist. “If I see something like this again, you’re fired.” “Y-yes, Alpha. I’m terribly sorry…” HR’s expression was priceless, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. His icy pine scent consumed me again, making my body weak and hot. My wolf let out a soft purr, urging me to lean into him. But before I could even move, he let go. A pang of disappointment hit me in the chest. “Come,” he said shortly, striding toward the private elevator. I shot HR and the stunned security guards a smug look, then hurried after him. He swiped his card and the elevator doors closed. We started going up to the 58th floor. It was dead silent. My heart was beating so wildly that I was afraid he’d hear it. I snuck a glance at him—he just stared straight ahead, emotionless, keeping a distance, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Unease twisted my stomach. “So, um… what brings you here today?” I broke the silence. He sighed softly. “I owe this company.” “Oh, Oh…Right.” I wanted to punch myself in the face. The awkward silence lingered until the elevator dinged open. The 58th floor was a wide-open space with no cubicles or dividers—just massive floor-to-ceiling windows and a sweeping view of the entire city. “Wow,” I whispered under my breath. Grayson was already walking ahead. I jogged to catch up as he led me into an office at the far end of the floor. A stunning female assistant closed the door behind us, and once again, it was just the two of us. My heart rocketed back into my throat. He casually unbuttoned his jacket. It was amazing how he made even that look sexy. “So you insisted on seeing me?” he asked. He didn’t ask me to sit. He didn’t even move closer. That distance stung a little. “I worked here till a week ago when I found out I was let go for no reason…” I quickly told him the story of how I was fired. “This is clearly illegal in so many ways… can you help me get my job back?” “Unfortunately, no,” he replied, barely hesitating. My heart dropped like a stone. “Why not?” “I’ll have the hiring department look into whether your termination followed proper protocol. But this isn’t something a CEO handles directly. Anything else?” The hiring department? That could take weeks—and I didn’t have weeks. “No… you don’t get it,” I stepped forward, my voice trembling. “My grandma’s in the hospital. Her bills are getting insane every month. And I’m already deep in debt… If I can’t make money, I don’t even know— I really, REALLY need this job.” I knew we came from two different worlds, but laying out the most desperate parts of my life in front of him still made me feel horribly exposed. I just hoped—begged—that he’d understand. But he didn’t. His gray eyes stayed emotionless. “I’m sorry, Miss Collins,” he said quietly. Tears rushed into my eyes. I couldn’t even breathe. All I could think about were the bills, the debt, the mountain of shit waiting for me the second I left this building. “If there’s nothing else, my assistant will show you out.” he said, reaching for the intercom. I rushed forward and pressed my hand down on his before he could call anyone in. His whole body stiffened—but he didn’t pull away. He just stared down at me. I stepped in closer, tilting my head up. His gray eyes darkened like a storm brewing in the distance. His pine scent wrapped around me again, thick and intoxicating. As werewolves, our scent only spikes during a fight or sexual arousal. It was damn obvious which case this was. “You clearly feel something for me,” I whispered. He said nothing. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was racing as well. His breathing had also turned shallow. “What are you doing, Miss Collins?” he asked tightly. “Trying to seduce your way into a job?” “You can do whatever you want,” I locked eyes with him. “I won’t stop you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. God, I wanted to lick it. And… well, I did. I leaned up and pressed my lips to it. He let out a growl. The next second, I was pinned on his desk. He stood between my spread legs, one hand by my head. I whimpered, clamping my thighs together—the heat between them was almost unbearable. Just like in the backseat of his car. His hand slid from the desk to my throat. It was so big, he could probably snap my neck if he wanted. “You shouldn’t keep tempting me, Miss Collins.” His body was pressed against my thighs—I definitely felt the effect I was having on him. “Why?” I whispered, licking my lips. “Because your self-control isn’t as strong as you thought?” “Because I don’t fuck virgins.” What the actual hell??? The next second, he had pulled away. I scrambled off the desk, face red, eyes wide. “What did you just say?!” I snapped. “Why—How the hell do you even know—?” “I know who you are. And I know about your relationship with my sister’s husband.” And just like that, everything clicked. It was Jace. That bastard didn’t just dump me—he ran his mouth about my virginity to everyone, including Grayson. Humiliation crashed over me like a wave. “Jace is a fucking asshole,” I snapped shakily. Grayson shrugged. “Obviously. But Brielle likes him. And he’s family now. I’m sorry but I just can’t get involved in this.” I climbed off his desk with my whole body red and shaking. He didn’t want me. And he was taking his sister and Jace’s side. I was so damn stupid to think that one kiss in the car actually meant anything. But this was Grayson Hart for Christ’s sake. He could have anyone he wanted. “I’m sure you’re a very capable employee, Miss Collins. But seducing me won’t help your career. I wish you all the best.” He finally pressed the intercom button. His assistant appeared at the door, waiting for me to leave. “Bye,” I whispered without even look back. I didn’t want him to notice my falling tears. I walked out of that office, numb, and rode the elevator down like a ghost. My mind was a storm of bills, debt, and Grayson’s ice-cold stare. Now I desperately needed a new job. “Miss Collins!” I turned and saw his assistant come rushing out again, holding an envelope. “Alpha Grayson asked me to give you this,” she said, handing it over. “What is it?” Why didn’t he give it to me earlier? “He didn’t say. Maybe you’ll know once you open it.” She gave me a mysterious smile and walked away. I opened the envelope. A blank check slid out first—I held my breath in shock. Then I found a crumpled note. His handwriting, rushed and messy. Haven’t repaid you for the shirt. Hope everything works out for you Aria. Stay strong. —Grayson
I stood in front of the chapel. Pink roses and white lilies decorated every corner. My favorite flowers. The guests were already seated. Soon, at the end of the red carpet would stand the man I once loved, waiting to marry his bride. Everything was perfect. Except I wasn't the bride. “I really need to see Jace today.” I begged the bodyguard blocking the door. A beat-up suitcase and two boxes sat at my feet. Everything I owned in the world. "No you don’t. Get out of here," the bodyguard said icily. I saw disgust in his eyes. Yeah I get it. No one has sympathy for the crazy ex who shows up at the wedding. But I have my reason to be here. "If you don't let me see him, I'll just stand here and all the guests will see me," I threatened under my breath. Jace wouldn't want that. Especially not today. Because today, he was marrying Delilah Hart. She is the sister to Alpha Grayson Hart of Redstone Pack. A 100% high-society darling. All the guys in the world knew that marrying Delilah would totally change their lives, including Jace. So he made the easy call—marrying the lady who could turn him from a small-town nobody into a golden boy. And dump the girl who stayed by his side for last 4 years when he had nothing. He didn’t want any guests to see me here. Because I represented his broke, embarrassing past. He wanted me nowhere near his glittering new world. Tears stung my eyes as I thought of that. Like a knife was twisting in my chest. “Let me in or I’m starting to yell.” I choked. The bodyguard frowned. "Wait here." He finally called somebody. A few minutes later, he waved me in. I wiped my eyes and struggled into the hall with my suitcase and boxes. Instantly, I felt out of place. Everything reeked of wealth here. Expensive perfume. Manicured nails. Not a hair out of place. It was everything you imagined about the upper-class and way more. And me? I was wearing a baggy T-shirt and jeans. My sneakers had holes. "God, a homeless. She stinks." A woman mutter as I walked by. No it couldn’t be. I just showered this morning. My hair still smelled like strawberries and coconut. But poverty had a scent, apparently. "Mr. Carter is inside." The guard took me to a closed door and warned, “Make it quick.” “Thank you.” The room inside looked like something out of a movie. Marble floors. White carpet. A chandelier that probably cost more than my apartment. And there he was. The man I used to love. Adjusting his bowtie in front of a mirror. Jace was still heartbreakingly handsome. No wonder Delilah fell for him. When he turned and fixed his gorgeous blue eyes upon me, I still felt my heart race. "Hey, Jace," I said quietly. And immediately, I wanted to punch myself. Hey, Jace?! That’s the best I could do? His face was ice cold. "You shouldn't come, Aria.” he said with a frown. “Your ratty suitcase, your ripped jeans, your Vans. None of that belongs here." Well if you wanted to be brutal and vicious, that’s how it’s done. "Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? You dumped me over a fucking email!" I snapped. He shrugged. "Look around you. The wealthiest people in the world came for me today. This suit I’m wearing cost more than you can make in your entire life. What more explanation do you want?" Wow. I always knew he was a cold, calculating bastard. I just didn’t realize how deep it ran. "Maybe chasing Alpha’s sister got you here faster. But you know what? When she finds out how shallow and cold you are. You’ll lose it all." Anger flared across his face. "I know how to love someone! I just won't waste that on a small-town girl like you.” he said freezingly, “Are we done here?" “No.” I took a deep breath and got into the real reason I came. "You're marrying a rich girl. Fine. But why did you have to get me fired?" Yeah. I used to work for this jerk. From intern to full-time at Apex Corp, he was my supervisor. Our office romance was a secret. And just days ago, I found out he was getting married with Apex CEO’s sister. And I was out of a job thanks to him. "Right, your job.” The jerk shrugged, “You got your job all thanks to me. Now that I’m not around, maybe they finally saw how incompetent and stupid you are. Problem?" Was he fucking kidding me?! "I graduated top of my class. Made it through 7 rounds of interviews. My performance exceeded every quarterly target. I earned that job!" I snapped. “Come on, Aria. You really gonna be so naïve?” He walked closer, smirking. "You passed the interviews because I said so. Your sales? I contacted those customers for you. Without me, you'd be nothing but a pretty face." He seized my chin and looked me over with a disgusting look. I slapped his hand away. "Give me my job back,” I hissed, my voice slightly trembling. “My dad’s debt. My grandma’s medical bills…I need the money. You of all people should know what it’s like to be poor. Don’t. Make. Me. Beg." I was throwing my pride at his feet. But he just laughed. "Well, how about I offer you a deal?" he said as though he’d been waiting for this moment. He brushed my hair back, fingers trailing down to my collarbone. I shivered in disgust. "You and I. We never fuck. You were so clinging to that pathetic no-sex-before-marriage rule. Maybe it's time to grow up. Let me fuck you once and I’ll write you very handsome check. How does that sound?" I widened my eyes in shock. Then I slapped him. HARD. “FUCKING HELL…What the hell are you doing?! I’m getting married in front of everyone in fucking 10 minutes!” He roared covering his swollen face. "Fuck you, Jace!” I yelled, “You're a spineless freeloading puss! And hey—congrats on the wedding. Hope your junk is soft like a fucking spaghetti tonight!" Then I stormed out dragging my suitcase and boxes, ignoring his angry curses behind me. Hot tears poured down as I dashed across the hallway. God this couldn’t be any worse. I was prepared to drop all my self-esteem and begged with my life. Because I needed the job and money. But I still let him get to me. Now what do I do? My salary barely covered my rent, my father’s debt and grandma’s bill. Now with my job gone, I already got kicked out by my landlord. I probably had to sleep in a park tonight. So do I go back and let that jerk win? Let him humiliate me...No. I’d rather die than that… "Hey, watch where you're going!" someone yelled. Too late. I slammed right into the man in front of me. He was tall. So tall I felt like I’d just walked into a brick wall. His diamond cufflink was sharp like a blade. When we collided, it sliced clean through my thin T-shirt with a loud rip. In one second, the front of my shirt was torn open, exposing my white lace bra. “Ah!” I gasped and looked up. This was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. His face was like a statue carved by a master artist. And his expression was so cold and distant. When he looked down at me, I swear I was about to drown in those stormy gray eyes of his. Suddenly, I recognized who he was. This was Alpha of Redstone Pack. CEO of Apex Corporation. Jace’s brother-in-law. THE legendary. Grayson Hart. “Aria Collins?” His voice was sexy and velvety. He lowered his head and his eyes dropped to the exposed part of my bra. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the color of his eyes seemed to darken as he stared. Wherever his gaze landed, my skin started burning up. But wait. How did he know my name? Chapter 2 With Ex's Brother-in-law Aria’s POV Of course I recognized him. God, who didn’t? I’d met him at the Apex gala. His face was on every finance magazine cover, and any time you turned on a TV, there he was—linked to the latest scandal with some actress or model. But there was no way he’d know who I was. “I-I…Hello, Alpha Grayson,” I stammered. He turned his eyes away and said to a nearby guard, “Escort Ms. Collins out.” “Yes, Alpha.” The guards stepped in immediately, stretching out their arms like I was some kind of contaminant that might taint Grayson’s perfectly tailored suit. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to say something about my shirt?” It’s torn beyond repair and was showing my breasts. He paused. Just for a brief second. Then flicked something down at my feet. I looked down. A blank check. “I need a shirt that can cover my front. Not your hush money.” I gritted with humiliation. But he didn’t even glance back and just walked away. “God,” I muttered under my breath. Can you believe these rich bastards? They think they can buy everything with money. People nearby were all staring, snickering under their breath. I tried to cover my chest and grab my things to escape, but it was hard to do all that with just two hands. “Oh my god…Aria Collins?” Three girls emerged from the whispering crowd. I took one look at them and sighed internally. Great. Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse. “Hello. Layla. Sabrina. Brielle.” I said dryly. I used to work in the same team with these girls back at Apex. We were all under Jace. These girls adored Jace. They spent more time flirting with him by the coffee machine than actually working. Which left me doing most of their work. After I got fired, and when news of my secret relationship with Jace got out, they decided I was public enemy number one. “What are you even doing here, Aria? Trying to win back your ex at his wedding? That’s a new low even for you,” Layla snickered. “I’m not here to win anyone back.” I tried to push past them. But they blocked me. “What happened to your shirt?” Brielle snickered. “Did you seriously walk in here with your bra out? Is this like some low-budget fashion statement?” They burst into laughter together. “You could be completely naked and Jace still wouldn’t give a damn,” Sabrina squeaked. “Because he’s marrying Lady Delilah. THE Delilah Hart! Redstone Pack’s sweetheart. And you…well you’re just a poor-ass small-town girl.” I stopped in my track and gave them a cold glare, “Oh yeah? Well at least this smalltown girl actually dated Jace. And you all got nothing. Do you know how many times I had to listen to him complained about your screechy voices and cheesy perfume after we got home? Apparently he rather be with me than any of you.” Their jaws dropped. “Jace would never say that!” Brielle cried. “And my perfume isn’t cheesy!” Sabrina screamed. “Word for word,” I rolled my eyes. “Now move. Or I’m rolling this suitcase over your pretty little skirts.” They looked like ruffled chickens, but they parted. I quickly shoved my dingy luggage ahead like a weapon and stormed out of the church. Rich people were assholes. Grayson, Jace, and their whole damn minions. I struggled to get my suitcase down the steps, and once I hit the street, cold wind slapped me in the face. It’s almost night. But I had no idea where to go. I could crash in the hospital with my grandma, but she’d ask too many questions. Like why I hadn’t brought Jace around recently, or why I wasn’t staying at my apartment. I didn’t want her to know how bad things had gotten. I thought about the park. Sleeping on a bench. But in a ripped T-shirt that exposed my whole front? Horrible idea. So I texted my best friend, May, asking to stay at her place for a few days. She was my rock. If the whole world turned against me, at least I still had her. She texted back right away inviting me to come over. Dragging my suitcase across the street toward the bus stop, I told myself it was going to be okay. This horrible day was going to end. Then I heard them. “Hey, nice shirt!” A group of street wolves were loitering near the stop. I hugged myself tighter and curled into the bench, hoping they’d get bored and leave. “C’mon baby, drop your hands. Let us see what you’re working with.” Go away. Go away. Go away. “You rip that shirt yourself? Damn that’s wild. I like that in a girl.” One of them moved closer, reaching for my shoulder. “Fuck off!” I snapped, my voice shaking. But it only fired them up. “Oh, feisty. Shake those tits for me!” They grabbed my wrists, yanked my arms down. My T-shirt gaped open completely, revealing my lace bra. The cold air made my skin pebble. They laughed even louder. I struggled and screamed. My wolf growled in rage. Shifting in the city was illegal…but right now, I didn’t have a second choice… Just then. Blinding headlights. Followed by screeching tires. A silver car skidded to a stop inches away. The door flew open. A deep voice thundered: “Get in.” I was too shocked that I didn’t think twice and obeyed. The car peeled away the second I shut the door. “My suitcase!” I cried. “Someone will get it,” he said darkly. “Address.” I told the driver May’s, my body still shaking. Then he pressed a button. A privacy screen slid up between the front and back seats, sealing us in the back. That’s when he turned toward me and leaned in. Like a beast ready to pounce. His scent hit me. It’s sharp pine mixed with cold metal. My head started to get dizzy. “Walking on the street in that shirt was a mistake,” he said darkly. “It got like this because of you,” I mumbled. He snorted. Then there’s the sound of rustling fabric. A heavy jacket landed across my shoulders. It was still warm from his body and carried his scent. I held my breath. Wearing his coat almost felt like…he was wrapping himself around me. “Alpha Grayson…do you know me?” I whispered. My gut told me that he would never do this for a strange girl. But if he knew who I was, he must know that I was his sister’s husband’s ex. That didn’t explain why he would help. “We’ve met,” he said simply. I stared at him, searching those icy gray eyes. He was staring at me too, with those cold, hungry, possessive eyes. I felt like I was completely naked in front of him. “Aria,” he warned, voice thick and husky. But I couldn’t control myself. I was leaning forward. Shit. Why did my body become so weird? My skin was on fire. My panties were wet. All I wanted was more of his scent. More of his heat. The next second his lips crashed onto mine. Hard. Rough. I gasped and opened my mouth for him. His tongue slipped in and explored every inch of my mouth, making me shiver. His hands pushed into my torn shirt and grabbed my breast. I couldn’t control my moan when he touched my naked skin. This…This was crazy. He was a stranger, and most importantly, my ex’s brother-in-law. And I was making out with him at the back of his car. The crazy part was I didn’t even want to stop. He lifted me onto his lap like I weighed nothing. I straddled his thighs and yanked at his tie as he bit my collarbone. Then, suddenly, the car stopped. “Alpha, we’ve arrived,” the driver said behind the screen. That’s when it all froze. His lips paused at my neck. I was still squirming on his lap, flushed and throbbing. But he shoved me off. “We can’t do this,” he said coldly. Chapter 3 You're Special To Him Aria’s POV “So you’re telling me this guy made out with you in the backseat of his car… and then just shoved you off like nothing happened?” May asked in shock. 20 minutes later, I was sitting at her place, wrapped in one of her oversized hoodies, a steaming mug of tea in my hands. But I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. “Yup,” I muttered. “Who knows what’s wrong with him.” “What an asshole,” she huffed. “But honestly, this really isn’t like you. You dated that jerk Jace for 4 years and didn’t even sleep with him—which, by the way, was a brilliant choice—and now you're suddenly making out with a complete stranger in his car?” I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say. Yeah, she had a point. “I—I don’t know. Maybe it was the whole Jace-getting-married thing. Maybe I just snapped and wanted to screw around with someone hotter just to get back at him…Honestly, it was so stupid now that I think of it.” She grinned and wiggled her brows. “So… he was hot huh?” My cheeks flushed and my mind drifted back. Those stormy gray eyes, his perfectly shaped lips on my neck, and those arms that could pick me up like I weighed nothing…Shit I need to stop. “Yeah. VERY,” I whispered, hiding my red face behind the mug. May burst out laughing. “Now we’re talking! That’s exactly what you need right now—a drop-dead gorgeous rebound to get that loser Jace out of your system. Screw your ‘no sex before marriage’ rule. Life is short.” I gave her a weak smile. Honestly, I didn’t need a rebound. I needed a job, money, and a place to live. Grayson Hart was like dessert when you can’t even afford dinner. “So… do you even know who this guy was?” she asked. I hesitated. Right at this moment, the doorbell rang. She jumped up to get it and came back a few minutes later, hauling in my luggage, her face frozen in disbelief. “OMG. You are not gonna believe what just showed up outside.” “Umm… my luggage?” I joked. “Two fucking muscular guys in black suits and guns! And a freaking stretch limo! They called me ‘ma’am’ and said they hope Miss Aria has a wonderful evening. Now, you—” She leapt at me and shook me by the shoulders. “—you tell me right now who the hell you hooked up with!” I squealed and dropped into the couch with her, laughing and giggling breathlessly. “Okay, okay—I’ll tell you. It was… Grayson Hart.” I practically whispered his name. Because honestly, I still couldn’t believe it either. May froze, eyes wide as saucers. “Grayson—THE Grayson Hart?! As in our Alpha? The CEO of Apex?!” “And Jace’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. Now you know how stupid I was earlier?” She let out a full-on scream. Then she grabbed my hand, her face flushed with excitement. “Oh my God! Aria, do you know what this means? Alpha Grayson never even lends his jacket to his model girlfriends. He likes you. You’re special!” “No,” I said firmly. “If I was special, he wouldn’t have thrown me off his lap when I tried to take off his shirt.” “Maybe he had somewhere to be—” “Don’t, May. Let’s be real. Guys like him don’t fall for girls like me.” I took another sip of tea, hiding the ache in my chest. Hell even Jace thought I was beneath him. What chance did I have with Grayson freaking Hart? “Don’t be silly, Aria. You’re gorgeous. And smart and amazing and—WAIT! I just had the best idea ever.” “What?” “That arrogant jerk Jace thinks you’re just some small-town prude who wasn’t good enough for him right? But what if you ended up with Alpha Grayson? It’ll be easy to get him because he’s already obsessed. Oh, it would destroy Jace. That dickhead would never recover.” OKAY. I’d be lying if I said that exact scenario hadn’t crossed my mind when Grayson kissed me back. What girl hasn’t daydreamed about dating the perfect guy and getting revenge in the most dramatic way possible? But right now, I couldn’t afford to daydream. Reality was already breathing down my neck. “Tempting. But right now I need a job and enough cash to keep Grandma in her hospital bed. Dating rich dudes isn’t exactly high on my to-do list.” May looked at me with soft eyes. “So…any plans? I can try to hook you up with a job, but you know I just work at a coffee shop, and with your degree, you deserve so much more.” I hugged her. “Thank you. Really. I’ll figure something out. Apex promised me severance when they fired me, so I’m going to HR tomorrow to get it sorted.” If I could get that money, at least I’d be OK for the next round of Grandma’s medical bills. — The next morning, I showed up at Apex right on time. But the second Brielle walked in with the HR manager, I had a bad feeling. “What’s she doing here?” I asked coldly. “I’ll explain in a minute,” HR replied with a polite, rehearsed smile as she sat across from me. “So Ms. Collins, I understand you’re here to discuss severance?” “Yes. So let’s not waste time. Just give me the check and I’ll be out of here.” “Unfortunately, severance only applies when the company terminates a contract without cause. In your case… it appears you were let go due to misconduct.” Misconduct? What the freaking hell. “Jace made a snap decision and booted me. What misconduct are you talking about?” “But that’s not what Mr. Carter said. He provided evidence that you made a costly error on a sales quote—omitting a few zeroes, to be exact. Cost the company millions. Here’s the email record.” She handed me a printed sheet. I swore I had never sent this email in my life. But there it was—my name in the sender field. No freaking way. Jace forged this. “And Mr. Carter reported that you had a difficult attitude toward your coworkers. Quote: ‘impatient and arrogant.’ Brielle’s here to verify that.” Brielle twirled her hair and smiled smugly. “Yeah. Aria was a horrible team player.” I stood so fast my chair screeched. “The only thing I didn’t ‘teamplayed’ with you was flirt with the boss in the breakroom!” “Liar!” she yelled. “And I asked Jace. He never said my voice was screechy!” Oh my God. I couldn’t believe how stupid she was. “Sit down, Miss Collins,” HR warned. “As of now, not only are you not getting severance, but we’re also considering legal action to recover the losses. If you understand the situation here, sign this acknowledgement—” “Does Alpha Grayson know about this?” I asked. Both of them froze. After a long pause, HR finally found her voice. “What does Alpha Grayson have to do with any of this?” “He owns Apex, doesn’t he? Does he know his team is abusing their power and firing hardworking employees illegally?” HR frowned. Brielle let out a loud snort. “Please. Don’t act like you know Alpha Grayson.” “What if I do? What if I go to him and then it’s you who gets fired?” She laughed in my face. “Oh, you mean you know him on TV?” “Let’s find out.” I shoved my chair back and stormed out, heading straight for the CEO’s private elevator at the end of the hall. HR scrambled after me, shouting my name. I was too furious to care how this ended. All I wanted now was to blow the whole damn place up. Two guards stood by the elevator. “I need to see Alpha Grayson,” I told them. “Appointment?” “No, but I swear he knows me. Just tell him it’s Aria—from yesterday. He’ll remember.” “You aren’t the first girl here saying that,” one of them mocked. “Come on, Miss Collins,” HR snapped, trying to drag me back. “This is getting crazy. Go back, sign the paper. Take responsibility for your own mistake.” “I didn’t send that email. It was Jace—he’s framing me! I will report all of you.” “Alpha Grayson doesn’t have time for your report, or your visit, or any of your little drama!” “I believe no one but me has the right to decide that,” a cold voice said behind us. Chapter 4 Take Me, Please Aria’s POV A large hand grabbed my arm and pulled me away from HR’s grip. I looked up and my heart almost stopped. Even I couldn’t believe he just showed up here. It felt like a dream. “A-Alpha Grayson,” HR stammered, her face frozen with shock and fear. “I don’t need employees who think they can make decisions for their boss,” he said freezingly while wrapping his arm around my waist. “If I see something like this again, you’re fired.” “Y-yes, Alpha. I’m terribly sorry…” HR’s expression was priceless, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. His icy pine scent consumed me again, making my body weak and hot. My wolf let out a soft purr, urging me to lean into him. But before I could even move, he let go. A pang of disappointment hit me in the chest. “Come,” he said shortly, striding toward the private elevator. I shot HR and the stunned security guards a smug look, then hurried after him. He swiped his card and the elevator doors closed. We started going up to the 58th floor. It was dead silent. My heart was beating so wildly that I was afraid he’d hear it. I snuck a glance at him—he just stared straight ahead, emotionless, keeping a distance, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Unease twisted my stomach. “So, um… what brings you here today?” I broke the silence. He sighed softly. “I owe this company.” “Oh, Oh…Right.” I wanted to punch myself in the face. The awkward silence lingered until the elevator dinged open. The 58th floor was a wide-open space with no cubicles or dividers—just massive floor-to-ceiling windows and a sweeping view of the entire city. “Wow,” I whispered under my breath. Grayson was already walking ahead. I jogged to catch up as he led me into an office at the far end of the floor. A stunning female assistant closed the door behind us, and once again, it was just the two of us. My heart rocketed back into my throat. He casually unbuttoned his jacket. It was amazing how he made even that look sexy. “So you insisted on seeing me?” he asked. He didn’t ask me to sit. He didn’t even move closer. That distance stung a little. “I worked here till a week ago when I found out I was let go for no reason…” I quickly told him the story of how I was fired. “This is clearly illegal in so many ways… can you help me get my job back?” “Unfortunately, no,” he replied, barely hesitating. My heart dropped like a stone. “Why not?” “I’ll have the hiring department look into whether your termination followed proper protocol. But this isn’t something a CEO handles directly. Anything else?” The hiring department? That could take weeks—and I didn’t have weeks. “No… you don’t get it,” I stepped forward, my voice trembling. “My grandma’s in the hospital. Her bills are getting insane every month. And I’m already deep in debt… If I can’t make money, I don’t even know— I really, REALLY need this job.” I knew we came from two different worlds, but laying out the most desperate parts of my life in front of him still made me feel horribly exposed. I just hoped—begged—that he’d understand. But he didn’t. His gray eyes stayed emotionless. “I’m sorry, Miss Collins,” he said quietly. Tears rushed into my eyes. I couldn’t even breathe. All I could think about were the bills, the debt, the mountain of shit waiting for me the second I left this building. “If there’s nothing else, my assistant will show you out.” he said, reaching for the intercom. I rushed forward and pressed my hand down on his before he could call anyone in. His whole body stiffened—but he didn’t pull away. He just stared down at me. I stepped in closer, tilting my head up. His gray eyes darkened like a storm brewing in the distance. His pine scent wrapped around me again, thick and intoxicating. As werewolves, our scent only spikes during a fight or sexual arousal. It was damn obvious which case this was. “You clearly feel something for me,” I whispered. He said nothing. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was racing as well. His breathing had also turned shallow. “What are you doing, Miss Collins?” he asked tightly. “Trying to seduce your way into a job?” “You can do whatever you want,” I locked eyes with him. “I won’t stop you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. God, I wanted to lick it. And… well, I did. I leaned up and pressed my lips to it. He let out a growl. The next second, I was pinned on his desk. He stood between my spread legs, one hand by my head. I whimpered, clamping my thighs together—the heat between them was almost unbearable. Just like in the backseat of his car. His hand slid from the desk to my throat. It was so big, he could probably snap my neck if he wanted. “You shouldn’t keep tempting me, Miss Collins.” His body was pressed against my thighs—I definitely felt the effect I was having on him. “Why?” I whispered, licking my lips. “Because your self-control isn’t as strong as you thought?” “Because I don’t fuck virgins.” What the actual hell??? The next second, he had pulled away. I scrambled off the desk, face red, eyes wide. “What did you just say?!” I snapped. “Why—How the hell do you even know—?” “I know who you are. And I know about your relationship with my sister’s husband.” And just like that, everything clicked. It was Jace. That bastard didn’t just dump me—he ran his mouth about my virginity to everyone, including Grayson. Humiliation crashed over me like a wave. “Jace is a fucking asshole,” I snapped shakily. Grayson shrugged. “Obviously. But Brielle likes him. And he’s family now. I’m sorry but I just can’t get involved in this.” I climbed off his desk with my whole body red and shaking. He didn’t want me. And he was taking his sister and Jace’s side. I was so damn stupid to think that one kiss in the car actually meant anything. But this was Grayson Hart for Christ’s sake. He could have anyone he wanted. “I’m sure you’re a very capable employee, Miss Collins. But seducing me won’t help your career. I wish you all the best.” He finally pressed the intercom button. His assistant appeared at the door, waiting for me to leave. “Bye,” I whispered without even look back. I didn’t want him to notice my falling tears. I walked out of that office, numb, and rode the elevator down like a ghost. My mind was a storm of bills, debt, and Grayson’s ice-cold stare. Now I desperately needed a new job. “Miss Collins!” I turned and saw his assistant come rushing out again, holding an envelope. “Alpha Grayson asked me to give you this,” she said, handing it over. “What is it?” Why didn’t he give it to me earlier? “He didn’t say. Maybe you’ll know once you open it.” She gave me a mysterious smile and walked away. I opened the envelope. A blank check slid out first—I held my breath in shock. Then I found a crumpled note. His handwriting, rushed and messy. Haven’t repaid you for the shirt. Hope everything works out for you Aria. Stay strong. —Grayson
I stood in front of the chapel. Pink roses and white lilies decorated every corner. My favorite flowers. The guests were already seated. Soon, at the end of the red carpet would stand the man I once loved, waiting to marry his bride. Everything was perfect. Except I wasn't the bride. “I really need to see Jace today.” I begged the bodyguard blocking the door. A beat-up suitcase and two boxes sat at my feet. Everything I owned in the world. "No you don’t. Get out of here," the bodyguard said icily. I saw disgust in his eyes. Yeah I get it. No one has sympathy for the crazy ex who shows up at the wedding. But I have my reason to be here. "If you don't let me see him, I'll just stand here and all the guests will see me," I threatened under my breath. Jace wouldn't want that. Especially not today. Because today, he was marrying Delilah Hart. She is the sister to Alpha Grayson Hart of Redstone Pack. A 100% high-society darling. All the guys in the world knew that marrying Delilah would totally change their lives, including Jace. So he made the easy call—marrying the lady who could turn him from a small-town nobody into a golden boy. And dump the girl who stayed by his side for last 4 years when he had nothing. He didn’t want any guests to see me here. Because I represented his broke, embarrassing past. He wanted me nowhere near his glittering new world. Tears stung my eyes as I thought of that. Like a knife was twisting in my chest. “Let me in or I’m starting to yell.” I choked. The bodyguard frowned. "Wait here." He finally called somebody. A few minutes later, he waved me in. I wiped my eyes and struggled into the hall with my suitcase and boxes. Instantly, I felt out of place. Everything reeked of wealth here. Expensive perfume. Manicured nails. Not a hair out of place. It was everything you imagined about the upper-class and way more. And me? I was wearing a baggy T-shirt and jeans. My sneakers had holes. "God, a homeless. She stinks." A woman mutter as I walked by. No it couldn’t be. I just showered this morning. My hair still smelled like strawberries and coconut. But poverty had a scent, apparently. "Mr. Carter is inside." The guard took me to a closed door and warned, “Make it quick.” “Thank you.” The room inside looked like something out of a movie. Marble floors. White carpet. A chandelier that probably cost more than my apartment. And there he was. The man I used to love. Adjusting his bowtie in front of a mirror. Jace was still heartbreakingly handsome. No wonder Delilah fell for him. When he turned and fixed his gorgeous blue eyes upon me, I still felt my heart race. "Hey, Jace," I said quietly. And immediately, I wanted to punch myself. Hey, Jace?! That’s the best I could do? His face was ice cold. "You shouldn't come, Aria.” he said with a frown. “Your ratty suitcase, your ripped jeans, your Vans. None of that belongs here." Well if you wanted to be brutal and vicious, that’s how it’s done. "Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? You dumped me over a fucking email!" I snapped. He shrugged. "Look around you. The wealthiest people in the world came for me today. This suit I’m wearing cost more than you can make in your entire life. What more explanation do you want?" Wow. I always knew he was a cold, calculating bastard. I just didn’t realize how deep it ran. "Maybe chasing Alpha’s sister got you here faster. But you know what? When she finds out how shallow and cold you are. You’ll lose it all." Anger flared across his face. "I know how to love someone! I just won't waste that on a small-town girl like you.” he said freezingly, “Are we done here?" “No.” I took a deep breath and got into the real reason I came. "You're marrying a rich girl. Fine. But why did you have to get me fired?" Yeah. I used to work for this jerk. From intern to full-time at Apex Corp, he was my supervisor. Our office romance was a secret. And just days ago, I found out he was getting married with Apex CEO’s sister. And I was out of a job thanks to him. "Right, your job.” The jerk shrugged, “You got your job all thanks to me. Now that I’m not around, maybe they finally saw how incompetent and stupid you are. Problem?" Was he fucking kidding me?! "I graduated top of my class. Made it through 7 rounds of interviews. My performance exceeded every quarterly target. I earned that job!" I snapped. “Come on, Aria. You really gonna be so naïve?” He walked closer, smirking. "You passed the interviews because I said so. Your sales? I contacted those customers for you. Without me, you'd be nothing but a pretty face." He seized my chin and looked me over with a disgusting look. I slapped his hand away. "Give me my job back,” I hissed, my voice slightly trembling. “My dad’s debt. My grandma’s medical bills…I need the money. You of all people should know what it’s like to be poor. Don’t. Make. Me. Beg." I was throwing my pride at his feet. But he just laughed. "Well, how about I offer you a deal?" he said as though he’d been waiting for this moment. He brushed my hair back, fingers trailing down to my collarbone. I shivered in disgust. "You and I. We never fuck. You were so clinging to that pathetic no-sex-before-marriage rule. Maybe it's time to grow up. Let me fuck you once and I’ll write you very handsome check. How does that sound?" I widened my eyes in shock. Then I slapped him. HARD. “FUCKING HELL…What the hell are you doing?! I’m getting married in front of everyone in fucking 10 minutes!” He roared covering his swollen face. "Fuck you, Jace!” I yelled, “You're a spineless freeloading puss! And hey—congrats on the wedding. Hope your junk is soft like a fucking spaghetti tonight!" Then I stormed out dragging my suitcase and boxes, ignoring his angry curses behind me. Hot tears poured down as I dashed across the hallway. God this couldn’t be any worse. I was prepared to drop all my self-esteem and begged with my life. Because I needed the job and money. But I still let him get to me. Now what do I do? My salary barely covered my rent, my father’s debt and grandma’s bill. Now with my job gone, I already got kicked out by my landlord. I probably had to sleep in a park tonight. So do I go back and let that jerk win? Let him humiliate me...No. I’d rather die than that… "Hey, watch where you're going!" someone yelled. Too late. I slammed right into the man in front of me. He was tall. So tall I felt like I’d just walked into a brick wall. His diamond cufflink was sharp like a blade. When we collided, it sliced clean through my thin T-shirt with a loud rip. In one second, the front of my shirt was torn open, exposing my white lace bra. “Ah!” I gasped and looked up. This was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. His face was like a statue carved by a master artist. And his expression was so cold and distant. When he looked down at me, I swear I was about to drown in those stormy gray eyes of his. Suddenly, I recognized who he was. This was Alpha of Redstone Pack. CEO of Apex Corporation. Jace’s brother-in-law. THE legendary. Grayson Hart. “Aria Collins?” His voice was sexy and velvety. He lowered his head and his eyes dropped to the exposed part of my bra. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the color of his eyes seemed to darken as he stared. Wherever his gaze landed, my skin started burning up. But wait. How did he know my name? Chapter 2 With Ex's Brother-in-law Aria’s POV Of course I recognized him. God, who didn’t? I’d met him at the Apex gala. His face was on every finance magazine cover, and any time you turned on a TV, there he was—linked to the latest scandal with some actress or model. But there was no way he’d know who I was. “I-I…Hello, Alpha Grayson,” I stammered. He turned his eyes away and said to a nearby guard, “Escort Ms. Collins out.” “Yes, Alpha.” The guards stepped in immediately, stretching out their arms like I was some kind of contaminant that might taint Grayson’s perfectly tailored suit. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to say something about my shirt?” It’s torn beyond repair and was showing my breasts. He paused. Just for a brief second. Then flicked something down at my feet. I looked down. A blank check. “I need a shirt that can cover my front. Not your hush money.” I gritted with humiliation. But he didn’t even glance back and just walked away. “God,” I muttered under my breath. Can you believe these rich bastards? They think they can buy everything with money. People nearby were all staring, snickering under their breath. I tried to cover my chest and grab my things to escape, but it was hard to do all that with just two hands. “Oh my god…Aria Collins?” Three girls emerged from the whispering crowd. I took one look at them and sighed internally. Great. Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse. “Hello. Layla. Sabrina. Brielle.” I said dryly. I used to work in the same team with these girls back at Apex. We were all under Jace. These girls adored Jace. They spent more time flirting with him by the coffee machine than actually working. Which left me doing most of their work. After I got fired, and when news of my secret relationship with Jace got out, they decided I was public enemy number one. “What are you even doing here, Aria? Trying to win back your ex at his wedding? That’s a new low even for you,” Layla snickered. “I’m not here to win anyone back.” I tried to push past them. But they blocked me. “What happened to your shirt?” Brielle snickered. “Did you seriously walk in here with your bra out? Is this like some low-budget fashion statement?” They burst into laughter together. “You could be completely naked and Jace still wouldn’t give a damn,” Sabrina squeaked. “Because he’s marrying Lady Delilah. THE Delilah Hart! Redstone Pack’s sweetheart. And you…well you’re just a poor-ass small-town girl.” I stopped in my track and gave them a cold glare, “Oh yeah? Well at least this smalltown girl actually dated Jace. And you all got nothing. Do you know how many times I had to listen to him complained about your screechy voices and cheesy perfume after we got home? Apparently he rather be with me than any of you.” Their jaws dropped. “Jace would never say that!” Brielle cried. “And my perfume isn’t cheesy!” Sabrina screamed. “Word for word,” I rolled my eyes. “Now move. Or I’m rolling this suitcase over your pretty little skirts.” They looked like ruffled chickens, but they parted. I quickly shoved my dingy luggage ahead like a weapon and stormed out of the church. Rich people were assholes. Grayson, Jace, and their whole damn minions. I struggled to get my suitcase down the steps, and once I hit the street, cold wind slapped me in the face. It’s almost night. But I had no idea where to go. I could crash in the hospital with my grandma, but she’d ask too many questions. Like why I hadn’t brought Jace around recently, or why I wasn’t staying at my apartment. I didn’t want her to know how bad things had gotten. I thought about the park. Sleeping on a bench. But in a ripped T-shirt that exposed my whole front? Horrible idea. So I texted my best friend, May, asking to stay at her place for a few days. She was my rock. If the whole world turned against me, at least I still had her. She texted back right away inviting me to come over. Dragging my suitcase across the street toward the bus stop, I told myself it was going to be okay. This horrible day was going to end. Then I heard them. “Hey, nice shirt!” A group of street wolves were loitering near the stop. I hugged myself tighter and curled into the bench, hoping they’d get bored and leave. “C’mon baby, drop your hands. Let us see what you’re working with.” Go away. Go away. Go away. “You rip that shirt yourself? Damn that’s wild. I like that in a girl.” One of them moved closer, reaching for my shoulder. “Fuck off!” I snapped, my voice shaking. But it only fired them up. “Oh, feisty. Shake those tits for me!” They grabbed my wrists, yanked my arms down. My T-shirt gaped open completely, revealing my lace bra. The cold air made my skin pebble. They laughed even louder. I struggled and screamed. My wolf growled in rage. Shifting in the city was illegal…but right now, I didn’t have a second choice… Just then. Blinding headlights. Followed by screeching tires. A silver car skidded to a stop inches away. The door flew open. A deep voice thundered: “Get in.” I was too shocked that I didn’t think twice and obeyed. The car peeled away the second I shut the door. “My suitcase!” I cried. “Someone will get it,” he said darkly. “Address.” I told the driver May’s, my body still shaking. Then he pressed a button. A privacy screen slid up between the front and back seats, sealing us in the back. That’s when he turned toward me and leaned in. Like a beast ready to pounce. His scent hit me. It’s sharp pine mixed with cold metal. My head started to get dizzy. “Walking on the street in that shirt was a mistake,” he said darkly. “It got like this because of you,” I mumbled. He snorted. Then there’s the sound of rustling fabric. A heavy jacket landed across my shoulders. It was still warm from his body and carried his scent. I held my breath. Wearing his coat almost felt like…he was wrapping himself around me. “Alpha Grayson…do you know me?” I whispered. My gut told me that he would never do this for a strange girl. But if he knew who I was, he must know that I was his sister’s husband’s ex. That didn’t explain why he would help. “We’ve met,” he said simply. I stared at him, searching those icy gray eyes. He was staring at me too, with those cold, hungry, possessive eyes. I felt like I was completely naked in front of him. “Aria,” he warned, voice thick and husky. But I couldn’t control myself. I was leaning forward. Shit. Why did my body become so weird? My skin was on fire. My panties were wet. All I wanted was more of his scent. More of his heat. The next second his lips crashed onto mine. Hard. Rough. I gasped and opened my mouth for him. His tongue slipped in and explored every inch of my mouth, making me shiver. His hands pushed into my torn shirt and grabbed my breast. I couldn’t control my moan when he touched my naked skin. This…This was crazy. He was a stranger, and most importantly, my ex’s brother-in-law. And I was making out with him at the back of his car. The crazy part was I didn’t even want to stop. He lifted me onto his lap like I weighed nothing. I straddled his thighs and yanked at his tie as he bit my collarbone. Then, suddenly, the car stopped. “Alpha, we’ve arrived,” the driver said behind the screen. That’s when it all froze. His lips paused at my neck. I was still squirming on his lap, flushed and throbbing. But he shoved me off. “We can’t do this,” he said coldly. Chapter 3 You're Special To Him Aria’s POV “So you’re telling me this guy made out with you in the backseat of his car… and then just shoved you off like nothing happened?” May asked in shock. 20 minutes later, I was sitting at her place, wrapped in one of her oversized hoodies, a steaming mug of tea in my hands. But I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. “Yup,” I muttered. “Who knows what’s wrong with him.” “What an asshole,” she huffed. “But honestly, this really isn’t like you. You dated that jerk Jace for 4 years and didn’t even sleep with him—which, by the way, was a brilliant choice—and now you're suddenly making out with a complete stranger in his car?” I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say. Yeah, she had a point. “I—I don’t know. Maybe it was the whole Jace-getting-married thing. Maybe I just snapped and wanted to screw around with someone hotter just to get back at him…Honestly, it was so stupid now that I think of it.” She grinned and wiggled her brows. “So… he was hot huh?” My cheeks flushed and my mind drifted back. Those stormy gray eyes, his perfectly shaped lips on my neck, and those arms that could pick me up like I weighed nothing…Shit I need to stop. “Yeah. VERY,” I whispered, hiding my red face behind the mug. May burst out laughing. “Now we’re talking! That’s exactly what you need right now—a drop-dead gorgeous rebound to get that loser Jace out of your system. Screw your ‘no sex before marriage’ rule. Life is short.” I gave her a weak smile. Honestly, I didn’t need a rebound. I needed a job, money, and a place to live. Grayson Hart was like dessert when you can’t even afford dinner. “So… do you even know who this guy was?” she asked. I hesitated. Right at this moment, the doorbell rang. She jumped up to get it and came back a few minutes later, hauling in my luggage, her face frozen in disbelief. “OMG. You are not gonna believe what just showed up outside.” “Umm… my luggage?” I joked. “Two fucking muscular guys in black suits and guns! And a freaking stretch limo! They called me ‘ma’am’ and said they hope Miss Aria has a wonderful evening. Now, you—” She leapt at me and shook me by the shoulders. “—you tell me right now who the hell you hooked up with!” I squealed and dropped into the couch with her, laughing and giggling breathlessly. “Okay, okay—I’ll tell you. It was… Grayson Hart.” I practically whispered his name. Because honestly, I still couldn’t believe it either. May froze, eyes wide as saucers. “Grayson—THE Grayson Hart?! As in our Alpha? The CEO of Apex?!” “And Jace’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. Now you know how stupid I was earlier?” She let out a full-on scream. Then she grabbed my hand, her face flushed with excitement. “Oh my God! Aria, do you know what this means? Alpha Grayson never even lends his jacket to his model girlfriends. He likes you. You’re special!” “No,” I said firmly. “If I was special, he wouldn’t have thrown me off his lap when I tried to take off his shirt.” “Maybe he had somewhere to be—” “Don’t, May. Let’s be real. Guys like him don’t fall for girls like me.” I took another sip of tea, hiding the ache in my chest. Hell even Jace thought I was beneath him. What chance did I have with Grayson freaking Hart? “Don’t be silly, Aria. You’re gorgeous. And smart and amazing and—WAIT! I just had the best idea ever.” “What?” “That arrogant jerk Jace thinks you’re just some small-town prude who wasn’t good enough for him right? But what if you ended up with Alpha Grayson? It’ll be easy to get him because he’s already obsessed. Oh, it would destroy Jace. That dickhead would never recover.” OKAY. I’d be lying if I said that exact scenario hadn’t crossed my mind when Grayson kissed me back. What girl hasn’t daydreamed about dating the perfect guy and getting revenge in the most dramatic way possible? But right now, I couldn’t afford to daydream. Reality was already breathing down my neck. “Tempting. But right now I need a job and enough cash to keep Grandma in her hospital bed. Dating rich dudes isn’t exactly high on my to-do list.” May looked at me with soft eyes. “So…any plans? I can try to hook you up with a job, but you know I just work at a coffee shop, and with your degree, you deserve so much more.” I hugged her. “Thank you. Really. I’ll figure something out. Apex promised me severance when they fired me, so I’m going to HR tomorrow to get it sorted.” If I could get that money, at least I’d be OK for the next round of Grandma’s medical bills. — The next morning, I showed up at Apex right on time. But the second Brielle walked in with the HR manager, I had a bad feeling. “What’s she doing here?” I asked coldly. “I’ll explain in a minute,” HR replied with a polite, rehearsed smile as she sat across from me. “So Ms. Collins, I understand you’re here to discuss severance?” “Yes. So let’s not waste time. Just give me the check and I’ll be out of here.” “Unfortunately, severance only applies when the company terminates a contract without cause. In your case… it appears you were let go due to misconduct.” Misconduct? What the freaking hell. “Jace made a snap decision and booted me. What misconduct are you talking about?” “But that’s not what Mr. Carter said. He provided evidence that you made a costly error on a sales quote—omitting a few zeroes, to be exact. Cost the company millions. Here’s the email record.” She handed me a printed sheet. I swore I had never sent this email in my life. But there it was—my name in the sender field. No freaking way. Jace forged this. “And Mr. Carter reported that you had a difficult attitude toward your coworkers. Quote: ‘impatient and arrogant.’ Brielle’s here to verify that.” Brielle twirled her hair and smiled smugly. “Yeah. Aria was a horrible team player.” I stood so fast my chair screeched. “The only thing I didn’t ‘teamplayed’ with you was flirt with the boss in the breakroom!” “Liar!” she yelled. “And I asked Jace. He never said my voice was screechy!” Oh my God. I couldn’t believe how stupid she was. “Sit down, Miss Collins,” HR warned. “As of now, not only are you not getting severance, but we’re also considering legal action to recover the losses. If you understand the situation here, sign this acknowledgement—” “Does Alpha Grayson know about this?” I asked. Both of them froze. After a long pause, HR finally found her voice. “What does Alpha Grayson have to do with any of this?” “He owns Apex, doesn’t he? Does he know his team is abusing their power and firing hardworking employees illegally?” HR frowned. Brielle let out a loud snort. “Please. Don’t act like you know Alpha Grayson.” “What if I do? What if I go to him and then it’s you who gets fired?” She laughed in my face. “Oh, you mean you know him on TV?” “Let’s find out.” I shoved my chair back and stormed out, heading straight for the CEO’s private elevator at the end of the hall. HR scrambled after me, shouting my name. I was too furious to care how this ended. All I wanted now was to blow the whole damn place up. Two guards stood by the elevator. “I need to see Alpha Grayson,” I told them. “Appointment?” “No, but I swear he knows me. Just tell him it’s Aria—from yesterday. He’ll remember.” “You aren’t the first girl here saying that,” one of them mocked. “Come on, Miss Collins,” HR snapped, trying to drag me back. “This is getting crazy. Go back, sign the paper. Take responsibility for your own mistake.” “I didn’t send that email. It was Jace—he’s framing me! I will report all of you.” “Alpha Grayson doesn’t have time for your report, or your visit, or any of your little drama!” “I believe no one but me has the right to decide that,” a cold voice said behind us. Chapter 4 Take Me, Please Aria’s POV A large hand grabbed my arm and pulled me away from HR’s grip. I looked up and my heart almost stopped. Even I couldn’t believe he just showed up here. It felt like a dream. “A-Alpha Grayson,” HR stammered, her face frozen with shock and fear. “I don’t need employees who think they can make decisions for their boss,” he said freezingly while wrapping his arm around my waist. “If I see something like this again, you’re fired.” “Y-yes, Alpha. I’m terribly sorry…” HR’s expression was priceless, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. His icy pine scent consumed me again, making my body weak and hot. My wolf let out a soft purr, urging me to lean into him. But before I could even move, he let go. A pang of disappointment hit me in the chest. “Come,” he said shortly, striding toward the private elevator. I shot HR and the stunned security guards a smug look, then hurried after him. He swiped his card and the elevator doors closed. We started going up to the 58th floor. It was dead silent. My heart was beating so wildly that I was afraid he’d hear it. I snuck a glance at him—he just stared straight ahead, emotionless, keeping a distance, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Unease twisted my stomach. “So, um… what brings you here today?” I broke the silence. He sighed softly. “I owe this company.” “Oh, Oh…Right.” I wanted to punch myself in the face. The awkward silence lingered until the elevator dinged open. The 58th floor was a wide-open space with no cubicles or dividers—just massive floor-to-ceiling windows and a sweeping view of the entire city. “Wow,” I whispered under my breath. Grayson was already walking ahead. I jogged to catch up as he led me into an office at the far end of the floor. A stunning female assistant closed the door behind us, and once again, it was just the two of us. My heart rocketed back into my throat. He casually unbuttoned his jacket. It was amazing how he made even that look sexy. “So you insisted on seeing me?” he asked. He didn’t ask me to sit. He didn’t even move closer. That distance stung a little. “I worked here till a week ago when I found out I was let go for no reason…” I quickly told him the story of how I was fired. “This is clearly illegal in so many ways… can you help me get my job back?” “Unfortunately, no,” he replied, barely hesitating. My heart dropped like a stone. “Why not?” “I’ll have the hiring department look into whether your termination followed proper protocol. But this isn’t something a CEO handles directly. Anything else?” The hiring department? That could take weeks—and I didn’t have weeks. “No… you don’t get it,” I stepped forward, my voice trembling. “My grandma’s in the hospital. Her bills are getting insane every month. And I’m already deep in debt… If I can’t make money, I don’t even know— I really, REALLY need this job.” I knew we came from two different worlds, but laying out the most desperate parts of my life in front of him still made me feel horribly exposed. I just hoped—begged—that he’d understand. But he didn’t. His gray eyes stayed emotionless. “I’m sorry, Miss Collins,” he said quietly. Tears rushed into my eyes. I couldn’t even breathe. All I could think about were the bills, the debt, the mountain of shit waiting for me the second I left this building. “If there’s nothing else, my assistant will show you out.” he said, reaching for the intercom. I rushed forward and pressed my hand down on his before he could call anyone in. His whole body stiffened—but he didn’t pull away. He just stared down at me. I stepped in closer, tilting my head up. His gray eyes darkened like a storm brewing in the distance. His pine scent wrapped around me again, thick and intoxicating. As werewolves, our scent only spikes during a fight or sexual arousal. It was damn obvious which case this was. “You clearly feel something for me,” I whispered. He said nothing. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was racing as well. His breathing had also turned shallow. “What are you doing, Miss Collins?” he asked tightly. “Trying to seduce your way into a job?” “You can do whatever you want,” I locked eyes with him. “I won’t stop you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. God, I wanted to lick it. And… well, I did. I leaned up and pressed my lips to it. He let out a growl. The next second, I was pinned on his desk. He stood between my spread legs, one hand by my head. I whimpered, clamping my thighs together—the heat between them was almost unbearable. Just like in the backseat of his car. His hand slid from the desk to my throat. It was so big, he could probably snap my neck if he wanted. “You shouldn’t keep tempting me, Miss Collins.” His body was pressed against my thighs—I definitely felt the effect I was having on him. “Why?” I whispered, licking my lips. “Because your self-control isn’t as strong as you thought?” “Because I don’t fuck virgins.” What the actual hell??? The next second, he had pulled away. I scrambled off the desk, face red, eyes wide. “What did you just say?!” I snapped. “Why—How the hell do you even know—?” “I know who you are. And I know about your relationship with my sister’s husband.” And just like that, everything clicked. It was Jace. That bastard didn’t just dump me—he ran his mouth about my virginity to everyone, including Grayson. Humiliation crashed over me like a wave. “Jace is a fucking asshole,” I snapped shakily. Grayson shrugged. “Obviously. But Brielle likes him. And he’s family now. I’m sorry but I just can’t get involved in this.” I climbed off his desk with my whole body red and shaking. He didn’t want me. And he was taking his sister and Jace’s side. I was so damn stupid to think that one kiss in the car actually meant anything. But this was Grayson Hart for Christ’s sake. He could have anyone he wanted. “I’m sure you’re a very capable employee, Miss Collins. But seducing me won’t help your career. I wish you all the best.” He finally pressed the intercom button. His assistant appeared at the door, waiting for me to leave. “Bye,” I whispered without even look back. I didn’t want him to notice my falling tears. I walked out of that office, numb, and rode the elevator down like a ghost. My mind was a storm of bills, debt, and Grayson’s ice-cold stare. Now I desperately needed a new job. “Miss Collins!” I turned and saw his assistant come rushing out again, holding an envelope. “Alpha Grayson asked me to give you this,” she said, handing it over. “What is it?” Why didn’t he give it to me earlier? “He didn’t say. Maybe you’ll know once you open it.” She gave me a mysterious smile and walked away. I opened the envelope. A blank check slid out first—I held my breath in shock. Then I found a crumpled note. His handwriting, rushed and messy. Haven’t repaid you for the shirt. Hope everything works out for you Aria. Stay strong. —Grayson
I stood in front of the chapel. Pink roses and white lilies decorated every corner. My favorite flowers. The guests were already seated. Soon, at the end of the red carpet would stand the man I once loved, waiting to marry his bride. Everything was perfect. Except I wasn't the bride. “I really need to see Jace today.” I begged the bodyguard blocking the door. A beat-up suitcase and two boxes sat at my feet. Everything I owned in the world. "No you don’t. Get out of here," the bodyguard said icily. I saw disgust in his eyes. Yeah I get it. No one has sympathy for the crazy ex who shows up at the wedding. But I have my reason to be here. "If you don't let me see him, I'll just stand here and all the guests will see me," I threatened under my breath. Jace wouldn't want that. Especially not today. Because today, he was marrying Delilah Hart. She is the sister to Alpha Grayson Hart of Redstone Pack. A 100% high-society darling. All the guys in the world knew that marrying Delilah would totally change their lives, including Jace. So he made the easy call—marrying the lady who could turn him from a small-town nobody into a golden boy. And dump the girl who stayed by his side for last 4 years when he had nothing. He didn’t want any guests to see me here. Because I represented his broke, embarrassing past. He wanted me nowhere near his glittering new world. Tears stung my eyes as I thought of that. Like a knife was twisting in my chest. “Let me in or I’m starting to yell.” I choked. The bodyguard frowned. "Wait here." He finally called somebody. A few minutes later, he waved me in. I wiped my eyes and struggled into the hall with my suitcase and boxes. Instantly, I felt out of place. Everything reeked of wealth here. Expensive perfume. Manicured nails. Not a hair out of place. It was everything you imagined about the upper-class and way more. And me? I was wearing a baggy T-shirt and jeans. My sneakers had holes. "God, a homeless. She stinks." A woman mutter as I walked by. No it couldn’t be. I just showered this morning. My hair still smelled like strawberries and coconut. But poverty had a scent, apparently. "Mr. Carter is inside." The guard took me to a closed door and warned, “Make it quick.” “Thank you.” The room inside looked like something out of a movie. Marble floors. White carpet. A chandelier that probably cost more than my apartment. And there he was. The man I used to love. Adjusting his bowtie in front of a mirror. Jace was still heartbreakingly handsome. No wonder Delilah fell for him. When he turned and fixed his gorgeous blue eyes upon me, I still felt my heart race. "Hey, Jace," I said quietly. And immediately, I wanted to punch myself. Hey, Jace?! That’s the best I could do? His face was ice cold. "You shouldn't come, Aria.” he said with a frown. “Your ratty suitcase, your ripped jeans, your Vans. None of that belongs here." Well if you wanted to be brutal and vicious, that’s how it’s done. "Don’t you think I deserve an explanation? You dumped me over a fucking email!" I snapped. He shrugged. "Look around you. The wealthiest people in the world came for me today. This suit I’m wearing cost more than you can make in your entire life. What more explanation do you want?" Wow. I always knew he was a cold, calculating bastard. I just didn’t realize how deep it ran. "Maybe chasing Alpha’s sister got you here faster. But you know what? When she finds out how shallow and cold you are. You’ll lose it all." Anger flared across his face. "I know how to love someone! I just won't waste that on a small-town girl like you.” he said freezingly, “Are we done here?" “No.” I took a deep breath and got into the real reason I came. "You're marrying a rich girl. Fine. But why did you have to get me fired?" Yeah. I used to work for this jerk. From intern to full-time at Apex Corp, he was my supervisor. Our office romance was a secret. And just days ago, I found out he was getting married with Apex CEO’s sister. And I was out of a job thanks to him. "Right, your job.” The jerk shrugged, “You got your job all thanks to me. Now that I’m not around, maybe they finally saw how incompetent and stupid you are. Problem?" Was he fucking kidding me?! "I graduated top of my class. Made it through 7 rounds of interviews. My performance exceeded every quarterly target. I earned that job!" I snapped. “Come on, Aria. You really gonna be so naïve?” He walked closer, smirking. "You passed the interviews because I said so. Your sales? I contacted those customers for you. Without me, you'd be nothing but a pretty face." He seized my chin and looked me over with a disgusting look. I slapped his hand away. "Give me my job back,” I hissed, my voice slightly trembling. “My dad’s debt. My grandma’s medical bills…I need the money. You of all people should know what it’s like to be poor. Don’t. Make. Me. Beg." I was throwing my pride at his feet. But he just laughed. "Well, how about I offer you a deal?" he said as though he’d been waiting for this moment. He brushed my hair back, fingers trailing down to my collarbone. I shivered in disgust. "You and I. We never fuck. You were so clinging to that pathetic no-sex-before-marriage rule. Maybe it's time to grow up. Let me fuck you once and I’ll write you very handsome check. How does that sound?" I widened my eyes in shock. Then I slapped him. HARD. “FUCKING HELL…What the hell are you doing?! I’m getting married in front of everyone in fucking 10 minutes!” He roared covering his swollen face. "Fuck you, Jace!” I yelled, “You're a spineless freeloading puss! And hey—congrats on the wedding. Hope your junk is soft like a fucking spaghetti tonight!" Then I stormed out dragging my suitcase and boxes, ignoring his angry curses behind me. Hot tears poured down as I dashed across the hallway. God this couldn’t be any worse. I was prepared to drop all my self-esteem and begged with my life. Because I needed the job and money. But I still let him get to me. Now what do I do? My salary barely covered my rent, my father’s debt and grandma’s bill. Now with my job gone, I already got kicked out by my landlord. I probably had to sleep in a park tonight. So do I go back and let that jerk win? Let him humiliate me...No. I’d rather die than that… "Hey, watch where you're going!" someone yelled. Too late. I slammed right into the man in front of me. He was tall. So tall I felt like I’d just walked into a brick wall. His diamond cufflink was sharp like a blade. When we collided, it sliced clean through my thin T-shirt with a loud rip. In one second, the front of my shirt was torn open, exposing my white lace bra. “Ah!” I gasped and looked up. This was the most handsome man I’d ever seen. His face was like a statue carved by a master artist. And his expression was so cold and distant. When he looked down at me, I swear I was about to drown in those stormy gray eyes of his. Suddenly, I recognized who he was. This was Alpha of Redstone Pack. CEO of Apex Corporation. Jace’s brother-in-law. THE legendary. Grayson Hart. “Aria Collins?” His voice was sexy and velvety. He lowered his head and his eyes dropped to the exposed part of my bra. Maybe it was just my imagination, but the color of his eyes seemed to darken as he stared. Wherever his gaze landed, my skin started burning up. But wait. How did he know my name? Chapter 2 With Ex's Brother-in-law Aria’s POV Of course I recognized him. God, who didn’t? I’d met him at the Apex gala. His face was on every finance magazine cover, and any time you turned on a TV, there he was—linked to the latest scandal with some actress or model. But there was no way he’d know who I was. “I-I…Hello, Alpha Grayson,” I stammered. He turned his eyes away and said to a nearby guard, “Escort Ms. Collins out.” “Yes, Alpha.” The guards stepped in immediately, stretching out their arms like I was some kind of contaminant that might taint Grayson’s perfectly tailored suit. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to say something about my shirt?” It’s torn beyond repair and was showing my breasts. He paused. Just for a brief second. Then flicked something down at my feet. I looked down. A blank check. “I need a shirt that can cover my front. Not your hush money.” I gritted with humiliation. But he didn’t even glance back and just walked away. “God,” I muttered under my breath. Can you believe these rich bastards? They think they can buy everything with money. People nearby were all staring, snickering under their breath. I tried to cover my chest and grab my things to escape, but it was hard to do all that with just two hands. “Oh my god…Aria Collins?” Three girls emerged from the whispering crowd. I took one look at them and sighed internally. Great. Just when I thought today couldn’t get any worse. “Hello. Layla. Sabrina. Brielle.” I said dryly. I used to work in the same team with these girls back at Apex. We were all under Jace. These girls adored Jace. They spent more time flirting with him by the coffee machine than actually working. Which left me doing most of their work. After I got fired, and when news of my secret relationship with Jace got out, they decided I was public enemy number one. “What are you even doing here, Aria? Trying to win back your ex at his wedding? That’s a new low even for you,” Layla snickered. “I’m not here to win anyone back.” I tried to push past them. But they blocked me. “What happened to your shirt?” Brielle snickered. “Did you seriously walk in here with your bra out? Is this like some low-budget fashion statement?” They burst into laughter together. “You could be completely naked and Jace still wouldn’t give a damn,” Sabrina squeaked. “Because he’s marrying Lady Delilah. THE Delilah Hart! Redstone Pack’s sweetheart. And you…well you’re just a poor-ass small-town girl.” I stopped in my track and gave them a cold glare, “Oh yeah? Well at least this smalltown girl actually dated Jace. And you all got nothing. Do you know how many times I had to listen to him complained about your screechy voices and cheesy perfume after we got home? Apparently he rather be with me than any of you.” Their jaws dropped. “Jace would never say that!” Brielle cried. “And my perfume isn’t cheesy!” Sabrina screamed. “Word for word,” I rolled my eyes. “Now move. Or I’m rolling this suitcase over your pretty little skirts.” They looked like ruffled chickens, but they parted. I quickly shoved my dingy luggage ahead like a weapon and stormed out of the church. Rich people were assholes. Grayson, Jace, and their whole damn minions. I struggled to get my suitcase down the steps, and once I hit the street, cold wind slapped me in the face. It’s almost night. But I had no idea where to go. I could crash in the hospital with my grandma, but she’d ask too many questions. Like why I hadn’t brought Jace around recently, or why I wasn’t staying at my apartment. I didn’t want her to know how bad things had gotten. I thought about the park. Sleeping on a bench. But in a ripped T-shirt that exposed my whole front? Horrible idea. So I texted my best friend, May, asking to stay at her place for a few days. She was my rock. If the whole world turned against me, at least I still had her. She texted back right away inviting me to come over. Dragging my suitcase across the street toward the bus stop, I told myself it was going to be okay. This horrible day was going to end. Then I heard them. “Hey, nice shirt!” A group of street wolves were loitering near the stop. I hugged myself tighter and curled into the bench, hoping they’d get bored and leave. “C’mon baby, drop your hands. Let us see what you’re working with.” Go away. Go away. Go away. “You rip that shirt yourself? Damn that’s wild. I like that in a girl.” One of them moved closer, reaching for my shoulder. “Fuck off!” I snapped, my voice shaking. But it only fired them up. “Oh, feisty. Shake those tits for me!” They grabbed my wrists, yanked my arms down. My T-shirt gaped open completely, revealing my lace bra. The cold air made my skin pebble. They laughed even louder. I struggled and screamed. My wolf growled in rage. Shifting in the city was illegal…but right now, I didn’t have a second choice… Just then. Blinding headlights. Followed by screeching tires. A silver car skidded to a stop inches away. The door flew open. A deep voice thundered: “Get in.” I was too shocked that I didn’t think twice and obeyed. The car peeled away the second I shut the door. “My suitcase!” I cried. “Someone will get it,” he said darkly. “Address.” I told the driver May’s, my body still shaking. Then he pressed a button. A privacy screen slid up between the front and back seats, sealing us in the back. That’s when he turned toward me and leaned in. Like a beast ready to pounce. His scent hit me. It’s sharp pine mixed with cold metal. My head started to get dizzy. “Walking on the street in that shirt was a mistake,” he said darkly. “It got like this because of you,” I mumbled. He snorted. Then there’s the sound of rustling fabric. A heavy jacket landed across my shoulders. It was still warm from his body and carried his scent. I held my breath. Wearing his coat almost felt like…he was wrapping himself around me. “Alpha Grayson…do you know me?” I whispered. My gut told me that he would never do this for a strange girl. But if he knew who I was, he must know that I was his sister’s husband’s ex. That didn’t explain why he would help. “We’ve met,” he said simply. I stared at him, searching those icy gray eyes. He was staring at me too, with those cold, hungry, possessive eyes. I felt like I was completely naked in front of him. “Aria,” he warned, voice thick and husky. But I couldn’t control myself. I was leaning forward. Shit. Why did my body become so weird? My skin was on fire. My panties were wet. All I wanted was more of his scent. More of his heat. The next second his lips crashed onto mine. Hard. Rough. I gasped and opened my mouth for him. His tongue slipped in and explored every inch of my mouth, making me shiver. His hands pushed into my torn shirt and grabbed my breast. I couldn’t control my moan when he touched my naked skin. This…This was crazy. He was a stranger, and most importantly, my ex’s brother-in-law. And I was making out with him at the back of his car. The crazy part was I didn’t even want to stop. He lifted me onto his lap like I weighed nothing. I straddled his thighs and yanked at his tie as he bit my collarbone. Then, suddenly, the car stopped. “Alpha, we’ve arrived,” the driver said behind the screen. That’s when it all froze. His lips paused at my neck. I was still squirming on his lap, flushed and throbbing. But he shoved me off. “We can’t do this,” he said coldly. Chapter 3 You're Special To Him Aria’s POV “So you’re telling me this guy made out with you in the backseat of his car… and then just shoved you off like nothing happened?” May asked in shock. 20 minutes later, I was sitting at her place, wrapped in one of her oversized hoodies, a steaming mug of tea in my hands. But I was still reeling from everything that had just happened. “Yup,” I muttered. “Who knows what’s wrong with him.” “What an asshole,” she huffed. “But honestly, this really isn’t like you. You dated that jerk Jace for 4 years and didn’t even sleep with him—which, by the way, was a brilliant choice—and now you're suddenly making out with a complete stranger in his car?” I opened my mouth but had no idea what to say. Yeah, she had a point. “I—I don’t know. Maybe it was the whole Jace-getting-married thing. Maybe I just snapped and wanted to screw around with someone hotter just to get back at him…Honestly, it was so stupid now that I think of it.” She grinned and wiggled her brows. “So… he was hot huh?” My cheeks flushed and my mind drifted back. Those stormy gray eyes, his perfectly shaped lips on my neck, and those arms that could pick me up like I weighed nothing…Shit I need to stop. “Yeah. VERY,” I whispered, hiding my red face behind the mug. May burst out laughing. “Now we’re talking! That’s exactly what you need right now—a drop-dead gorgeous rebound to get that loser Jace out of your system. Screw your ‘no sex before marriage’ rule. Life is short.” I gave her a weak smile. Honestly, I didn’t need a rebound. I needed a job, money, and a place to live. Grayson Hart was like dessert when you can’t even afford dinner. “So… do you even know who this guy was?” she asked. I hesitated. Right at this moment, the doorbell rang. She jumped up to get it and came back a few minutes later, hauling in my luggage, her face frozen in disbelief. “OMG. You are not gonna believe what just showed up outside.” “Umm… my luggage?” I joked. “Two fucking muscular guys in black suits and guns! And a freaking stretch limo! They called me ‘ma’am’ and said they hope Miss Aria has a wonderful evening. Now, you—” She leapt at me and shook me by the shoulders. “—you tell me right now who the hell you hooked up with!” I squealed and dropped into the couch with her, laughing and giggling breathlessly. “Okay, okay—I’ll tell you. It was… Grayson Hart.” I practically whispered his name. Because honestly, I still couldn’t believe it either. May froze, eyes wide as saucers. “Grayson—THE Grayson Hart?! As in our Alpha? The CEO of Apex?!” “And Jace’s soon-to-be brother-in-law. Now you know how stupid I was earlier?” She let out a full-on scream. Then she grabbed my hand, her face flushed with excitement. “Oh my God! Aria, do you know what this means? Alpha Grayson never even lends his jacket to his model girlfriends. He likes you. You’re special!” “No,” I said firmly. “If I was special, he wouldn’t have thrown me off his lap when I tried to take off his shirt.” “Maybe he had somewhere to be—” “Don’t, May. Let’s be real. Guys like him don’t fall for girls like me.” I took another sip of tea, hiding the ache in my chest. Hell even Jace thought I was beneath him. What chance did I have with Grayson freaking Hart? “Don’t be silly, Aria. You’re gorgeous. And smart and amazing and—WAIT! I just had the best idea ever.” “What?” “That arrogant jerk Jace thinks you’re just some small-town prude who wasn’t good enough for him right? But what if you ended up with Alpha Grayson? It’ll be easy to get him because he’s already obsessed. Oh, it would destroy Jace. That dickhead would never recover.” OKAY. I’d be lying if I said that exact scenario hadn’t crossed my mind when Grayson kissed me back. What girl hasn’t daydreamed about dating the perfect guy and getting revenge in the most dramatic way possible? But right now, I couldn’t afford to daydream. Reality was already breathing down my neck. “Tempting. But right now I need a job and enough cash to keep Grandma in her hospital bed. Dating rich dudes isn’t exactly high on my to-do list.” May looked at me with soft eyes. “So…any plans? I can try to hook you up with a job, but you know I just work at a coffee shop, and with your degree, you deserve so much more.” I hugged her. “Thank you. Really. I’ll figure something out. Apex promised me severance when they fired me, so I’m going to HR tomorrow to get it sorted.” If I could get that money, at least I’d be OK for the next round of Grandma’s medical bills. — The next morning, I showed up at Apex right on time. But the second Brielle walked in with the HR manager, I had a bad feeling. “What’s she doing here?” I asked coldly. “I’ll explain in a minute,” HR replied with a polite, rehearsed smile as she sat across from me. “So Ms. Collins, I understand you’re here to discuss severance?” “Yes. So let’s not waste time. Just give me the check and I’ll be out of here.” “Unfortunately, severance only applies when the company terminates a contract without cause. In your case… it appears you were let go due to misconduct.” Misconduct? What the freaking hell. “Jace made a snap decision and booted me. What misconduct are you talking about?” “But that’s not what Mr. Carter said. He provided evidence that you made a costly error on a sales quote—omitting a few zeroes, to be exact. Cost the company millions. Here’s the email record.” She handed me a printed sheet. I swore I had never sent this email in my life. But there it was—my name in the sender field. No freaking way. Jace forged this. “And Mr. Carter reported that you had a difficult attitude toward your coworkers. Quote: ‘impatient and arrogant.’ Brielle’s here to verify that.” Brielle twirled her hair and smiled smugly. “Yeah. Aria was a horrible team player.” I stood so fast my chair screeched. “The only thing I didn’t ‘teamplayed’ with you was flirt with the boss in the breakroom!” “Liar!” she yelled. “And I asked Jace. He never said my voice was screechy!” Oh my God. I couldn’t believe how stupid she was. “Sit down, Miss Collins,” HR warned. “As of now, not only are you not getting severance, but we’re also considering legal action to recover the losses. If you understand the situation here, sign this acknowledgement—” “Does Alpha Grayson know about this?” I asked. Both of them froze. After a long pause, HR finally found her voice. “What does Alpha Grayson have to do with any of this?” “He owns Apex, doesn’t he? Does he know his team is abusing their power and firing hardworking employees illegally?” HR frowned. Brielle let out a loud snort. “Please. Don’t act like you know Alpha Grayson.” “What if I do? What if I go to him and then it’s you who gets fired?” She laughed in my face. “Oh, you mean you know him on TV?” “Let’s find out.” I shoved my chair back and stormed out, heading straight for the CEO’s private elevator at the end of the hall. HR scrambled after me, shouting my name. I was too furious to care how this ended. All I wanted now was to blow the whole damn place up. Two guards stood by the elevator. “I need to see Alpha Grayson,” I told them. “Appointment?” “No, but I swear he knows me. Just tell him it’s Aria—from yesterday. He’ll remember.” “You aren’t the first girl here saying that,” one of them mocked. “Come on, Miss Collins,” HR snapped, trying to drag me back. “This is getting crazy. Go back, sign the paper. Take responsibility for your own mistake.” “I didn’t send that email. It was Jace—he’s framing me! I will report all of you.” “Alpha Grayson doesn’t have time for your report, or your visit, or any of your little drama!” “I believe no one but me has the right to decide that,” a cold voice said behind us. Chapter 4 Take Me, Please Aria’s POV A large hand grabbed my arm and pulled me away from HR’s grip. I looked up and my heart almost stopped. Even I couldn’t believe he just showed up here. It felt like a dream. “A-Alpha Grayson,” HR stammered, her face frozen with shock and fear. “I don’t need employees who think they can make decisions for their boss,” he said freezingly while wrapping his arm around my waist. “If I see something like this again, you’re fired.” “Y-yes, Alpha. I’m terribly sorry…” HR’s expression was priceless, but I was in no mood to enjoy it. His icy pine scent consumed me again, making my body weak and hot. My wolf let out a soft purr, urging me to lean into him. But before I could even move, he let go. A pang of disappointment hit me in the chest. “Come,” he said shortly, striding toward the private elevator. I shot HR and the stunned security guards a smug look, then hurried after him. He swiped his card and the elevator doors closed. We started going up to the 58th floor. It was dead silent. My heart was beating so wildly that I was afraid he’d hear it. I snuck a glance at him—he just stared straight ahead, emotionless, keeping a distance, like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Unease twisted my stomach. “So, um… what brings you here today?” I broke the silence. He sighed softly. “I owe this company.” “Oh, Oh…Right.” I wanted to punch myself in the face. The awkward silence lingered until the elevator dinged open. The 58th floor was a wide-open space with no cubicles or dividers—just massive floor-to-ceiling windows and a sweeping view of the entire city. “Wow,” I whispered under my breath. Grayson was already walking ahead. I jogged to catch up as he led me into an office at the far end of the floor. A stunning female assistant closed the door behind us, and once again, it was just the two of us. My heart rocketed back into my throat. He casually unbuttoned his jacket. It was amazing how he made even that look sexy. “So you insisted on seeing me?” he asked. He didn’t ask me to sit. He didn’t even move closer. That distance stung a little. “I worked here till a week ago when I found out I was let go for no reason…” I quickly told him the story of how I was fired. “This is clearly illegal in so many ways… can you help me get my job back?” “Unfortunately, no,” he replied, barely hesitating. My heart dropped like a stone. “Why not?” “I’ll have the hiring department look into whether your termination followed proper protocol. But this isn’t something a CEO handles directly. Anything else?” The hiring department? That could take weeks—and I didn’t have weeks. “No… you don’t get it,” I stepped forward, my voice trembling. “My grandma’s in the hospital. Her bills are getting insane every month. And I’m already deep in debt… If I can’t make money, I don’t even know— I really, REALLY need this job.” I knew we came from two different worlds, but laying out the most desperate parts of my life in front of him still made me feel horribly exposed. I just hoped—begged—that he’d understand. But he didn’t. His gray eyes stayed emotionless. “I’m sorry, Miss Collins,” he said quietly. Tears rushed into my eyes. I couldn’t even breathe. All I could think about were the bills, the debt, the mountain of shit waiting for me the second I left this building. “If there’s nothing else, my assistant will show you out.” he said, reaching for the intercom. I rushed forward and pressed my hand down on his before he could call anyone in. His whole body stiffened—but he didn’t pull away. He just stared down at me. I stepped in closer, tilting my head up. His gray eyes darkened like a storm brewing in the distance. His pine scent wrapped around me again, thick and intoxicating. As werewolves, our scent only spikes during a fight or sexual arousal. It was damn obvious which case this was. “You clearly feel something for me,” I whispered. He said nothing. I placed my hand on his chest and felt his heartbeat. It was racing as well. His breathing had also turned shallow. “What are you doing, Miss Collins?” he asked tightly. “Trying to seduce your way into a job?” “You can do whatever you want,” I locked eyes with him. “I won’t stop you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. God, I wanted to lick it. And… well, I did. I leaned up and pressed my lips to it. He let out a growl. The next second, I was pinned on his desk. He stood between my spread legs, one hand by my head. I whimpered, clamping my thighs together—the heat between them was almost unbearable. Just like in the backseat of his car. His hand slid from the desk to my throat. It was so big, he could probably snap my neck if he wanted. “You shouldn’t keep tempting me, Miss Collins.” His body was pressed against my thighs—I definitely felt the effect I was having on him. “Why?” I whispered, licking my lips. “Because your self-control isn’t as strong as you thought?” “Because I don’t fuck virgins.” What the actual hell??? The next second, he had pulled away. I scrambled off the desk, face red, eyes wide. “What did you just say?!” I snapped. “Why—How the hell do you even know—?” “I know who you are. And I know about your relationship with my sister’s husband.” And just like that, everything clicked. It was Jace. That bastard didn’t just dump me—he ran his mouth about my virginity to everyone, including Grayson. Humiliation crashed over me like a wave. “Jace is a fucking asshole,” I snapped shakily. Grayson shrugged. “Obviously. But Brielle likes him. And he’s family now. I’m sorry but I just can’t get involved in this.” I climbed off his desk with my whole body red and shaking. He didn’t want me. And he was taking his sister and Jace’s side. I was so damn stupid to think that one kiss in the car actually meant anything. But this was Grayson Hart for Christ’s sake. He could have anyone he wanted. “I’m sure you’re a very capable employee, Miss Collins. But seducing me won’t help your career. I wish you all the best.” He finally pressed the intercom button. His assistant appeared at the door, waiting for me to leave. “Bye,” I whispered without even look back. I didn’t want him to notice my falling tears. I walked out of that office, numb, and rode the elevator down like a ghost. My mind was a storm of bills, debt, and Grayson’s ice-cold stare. Now I desperately needed a new job. “Miss Collins!” I turned and saw his assistant come rushing out again, holding an envelope. “Alpha Grayson asked me to give you this,” she said, handing it over. “What is it?” Why didn’t he give it to me earlier? “He didn’t say. Maybe you’ll know once you open it.” She gave me a mysterious smile and walked away. I opened the envelope. A blank check slid out first—I held my breath in shock. Then I found a crumpled note. His handwriting, rushed and messy. Haven’t repaid you for the shirt. Hope everything works out for you Aria. Stay strong. —Grayson
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*
The day Rowan Thatcher divorced me, he brought his pregnant mistress to the courthouse, made me pay for the filing fee, and told me I should thank him for setting me free. I stared at the woman clinging to his arm — Sienna Cole, his college ex — and watched her rub her belly with a smug little smile that made my blood run cold. "Don't look so heartbroken, Elara," Sienna said sweetly. "Rowan was never really yours to begin with." Rowan didn't even flinch. He just signed the papers, slid them across the table, and said, "You can keep the apartment. Consider it severance." Severance. As if our six-year marriage was an employment contract he was terminating. What Rowan didn't know — what none of them knew — was that the apartment he so generously "gave" me was one of thirty-seven properties I owned across the country. He also didn't know that Pinnacle Group, the corporation he'd been desperately trying to land a contract with for the past eighteen months, was mine. Every email he'd sent begging for a meeting had landed in my inbox. I signed the papers without a word. "That's it?" Rowan frowned, clearly expecting tears, begging, a scene. "You're not going to say anything?" I looked at him — really looked at him — for the last time. The man I'd loved since I was nineteen. The man I'd quietly built an empire around while he thought I was just a housewife with a "little online shop." "Good luck, Rowan," I said. "You're going to need it." Sienna laughed. "Is that a threat? From a woman who spent six years doing nothing but cooking and cleaning?" I smiled at her. It was the kind of smile my CFO said made grown men sweat in boardrooms. "It's not a threat. It's a weather forecast." I walked out of the courthouse, got into the black Maybach waiting at the curb, and told my driver, "Take me to Pinnacle headquarters." My phone buzzed. A message from my assistant, Margot: *"The Thatcher Group contract request is on your desk. Want me to shred it or frame it?"* I typed back: *"Neither. We'll deal with it when the time is right."* In the rearview mirror, I watched Rowan and Sienna celebrating on the courthouse steps. He lifted her up and spun her around like he'd just won the lottery. He had no idea he'd just signed away the only thing keeping his company alive. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a name I hadn't seen in two years. **Callum Blackwood.** The message was just four words: *"I heard. I'm coming."* My heart did something it hadn't done in six years. It skipped. Chapter 2 I hadn't spoken to Callum Blackwood since the night before my wedding to Rowan. That night, Callum had shown up at my parents' house with a folder and a look on his face I'd never seen before — raw, unguarded, almost desperate. "Don't marry him, Elara." He'd said it simply, like he was stating a fact rather than making a plea. I'd laughed it off. "You've never even met him properly, Cal. You're being overprotective." "I'm being honest." He set the folder down on the table. "I had my team look into him. He's drowning in debt. His family's business is failing. He's not marrying you — he's marrying your net worth." I'd pushed the folder back without opening it. "I love him. That's enough." Callum had stared at me for a long time, his jaw tight. Then, he pulled out a document — an equity transfer for a shell company worth fifty million dollars, set up entirely in my name. "If he ever hurts you," Callum said quietly, "this is your safety net. You won't need anyone's permission to walk away." I'd refused to take it. I told him he was overthinking. I told him Rowan was a good man. Callum had just nodded slowly, slipped the document back into his jacket, and said, "The offer doesn't expire, Elara. Neither does anything else I've ever offered you." He left that night, and I didn't hear from him again. Not when Rowan took over managing my company's finances "to help lighten my load." Not when Rowan's parents moved into our home and started treating me like hired help. Not when I spent Christmas alone because Rowan was on yet another "business trip." For six years, Callum Blackwood was a ghost. A memory I kept locked in a drawer I never opened. But now, sitting in the back of my Maybach with divorce papers still warm in my bag, I read his message again. *"I heard. I'm coming."* Three dots appeared, then another message: *"Don't do anything satisfying without me."* Despite everything, I actually laughed. My phone rang immediately — Margot. "Ma'am, we have a situation. Rowan Thatcher just sent a company-wide email to Thatcher Group announcing that he's 'entering a new chapter' and will be 'pursuing major partnerships to grow the brand.' He also tagged Pinnacle Group in a public LinkedIn post calling you — and I quote — 'a strategic target for Q4.'" "He tagged us?" "Publicly. With a heart emoji." I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath. Rowan had no idea who ran Pinnacle. The company was structured through a trust, and I'd kept my identity as founder completely hidden. To the outside world, Pinnacle's CEO was a mysterious figure who never made public appearances. "Margot, schedule a board meeting for tomorrow. And pull Thatcher Group's full financial records. I want to know exactly how deep a hole Rowan has dug for himself." "Already on it. Also — Callum Blackwood's office called. He's requesting a private meeting with you. Tomorrow evening." My pulse quickened, but I kept my voice steady. "Tell him I'll think about it." "He said you'd say that. He also said — and I'm quoting directly — 'Tell her I'll be at her favorite restaurant at seven regardless. She can stand me up if she wants. I've waited six years. What's one more night?'" I hung up without responding. But I already knew I wouldn't stand him up. Chapter 3 The next morning, I walked into Pinnacle Group's headquarters for the first time in months. I had built this company from nothing — a small design firm I started in college that grew into a tech-and-media conglomerate valued at over two billion dollars. But during my marriage, I'd stepped back from daily operations, letting my executive team run things while I played the role Rowan wanted: the dutiful wife. Rowan never questioned where the money came from. I told him I had a "family trust" and some "investments," and he was too busy spending it to investigate further. Now, as I stepped out of the elevator onto the top floor, every employee I passed straightened up. Some looked stunned to see me. Others quickly averted their eyes, pretending they hadn't been gossiping. Margot met me at my office door with a tablet and a grim expression. "The financial report on Thatcher Group is worse than we thought." I sat down and scanned the numbers. Rowan had been hemorrhaging money for years. His company survived solely because of contracts funneled through a subsidiary that I had quietly set up during our marriage — contracts he believed he'd earned on his own merit. Without those contracts, Thatcher Group would collapse within ninety days. "There's more," Margot continued. "Rowan applied for a fifty-million-dollar loan last week using your former marital home as collateral." "The apartment he so generously let me keep?" I asked, the irony almost too rich. "That's the one. The bank flagged it because the property is registered under your name through the trust. He forged your signature on the application." I set the tablet down slowly. "He committed fraud." "Yes, ma'am. We can report it now, or —" "Not yet." I leaned back in my chair. "Let him dig a little deeper first." Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She'd worked with me long enough to know I never acted without a plan. "One more thing," she added. "Sienna Cole posted on Instagram this morning. She's showing off an engagement ring and tagging Rowan. The caption says, 'When he knows what he wants, he doesn't waste time.' It already has ten thousand likes." I pulled up the post. The ring on Sienna's finger was a high-end design — one I recognized immediately because my company had manufactured it. It was from Pinnacle's luxury jewelry line, retailing at forty thousand dollars. Rowan had bought his new fiancée a ring that put money directly into my pocket. I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Ma'am?" "Nothing. Just appreciating the irony." I stood up and smoothed my blazer. "Cancel my afternoon meetings. I need to prepare for dinner tonight." Margot's eyes widened slightly. "The dinner with Callum Blackwood?" "Don't read into it." "I would never," she said, already reading into it. "But for the record, I had your black Valentino dress dry-cleaned last week. Just in case." I shot her a look, but she was already walking out with the faintest smile on her face. At exactly seven o'clock, I walked into La Maison, the French restaurant Callum and I used to sneak into as teenagers when we'd steal his father's car and pretend to be adults. He was already there, sitting at our old table by the window. When he saw me, he stood. And for a moment, neither of us said anything. Six years had changed him. His jaw was sharper, his shoulders broader, and there was a quiet authority in his posture that hadn't been there before. But his eyes — dark, warm, impossibly steady — were exactly the same. "You came," he said. "You knew I would." He pulled out my chair, and as I sat down, I noticed a small bouquet of white lisianthus on the table. My breath caught. "You remembered," I whispered. "Elara," he said, sitting across from me with an expression that made my chest ache, "I remember everything." Before I could respond, my phone buzzed violently. Margot's name flashed across the screen with a single line of text: *"URGENT. Rowan just found out who owns Pinnacle. He's on his way to HQ. He's bringing lawyers."*