Chapter Four

Chapter Four

ETHAN,

I leaned back in my chair, a slow, amused smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I watched the woman storm out. She was a wildfire—untamed, furious, unapologetically alive. The summons she had thrown onto my desk still sat there, a crumpled insult against the polished mahogany surface, but I didn’t mind. No, I admired it.

In my world, women usually wilted under pressure. They simpered, they fawned, they plotted carefully behind plastic smiles, all calculated sweetness and veiled ambition. But this one? She burned. She confronted, she challenged, and she did it without the safety net of knowing who she was speaking to. That alone stirred something primitive and deeply territorial within me. A woman who didn’t shrink or scheme. A woman who dared to look me in the eye—before realizing her mistake, of course.

I had caught the flicker in her gaze, the quick stiffening of her shoulders once the gravity of the situation hit her. Most people crumbled after that moment, scrambling to retract their bravery with apologies or desperate excuses. But not her. What struck me more than her initial boldness was how swiftly she recovered. No desperate apologies. No pathetic groveling. She turned on her heel and left, her pride intact, her dignity unbowed. She did not allow herself to be broken, even under the heavy weight of the realization. Very interesting.

With an idle motion, I pressed the button on my intercom, keeping my voice calm but edged with the authority that needed no explanation. "Damian. My office. Now." There was no hesitation on the other end. Within moments, the door opened, and Damian entered, his posture crisp, his gaze lowered in a show of proper deference. He knew the rules. He waited just inside the door until I gestured lazily for him to approach. His movements were sharp, polished—well-trained, like everything else under my command.

"A woman just left," I said, tapping my fingers once against the desk in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Fiery little thing. Do you know anything about a dispute involving you?"

Damian blinked, visibly caught off guard by the question. His mind raced behind his carefully blank expression, but he couldn’t quite hide the flicker of confusion. "No one came to find me, sir," he said after a beat, his tone neutral, but tight with uncertainty. I let the silence stretch between us, pressing down with its own invisible weight. Silence always told me more than words. Damian shifted under it, glancing down as if the grain of the hardwood floor might offer him some answer. Then something seemed to click in his mind, and he spoke again, slower this time, more cautiously.

"Wait. It could’ve been about Liana."

The name sharpened my interest immediately, cutting through the cloud of vague annoyance I had been entertaining. "Liana," I repeated, letting the syllables settle heavily into the room. Damian’s mouth twisted into something between a sneer and a grimace, and his next words practically dripped with disdain.

"The mother of my child," he said, his voice tinged with an undisguised contempt that was almost theatrical. "Piece of work, that one. Manipulative. Unstable. Always playing the victim. She’s been nothing but trouble since the day I met her. A leech. A drama queen. Probably trying to squeeze every dime she can out of me with this custody nonsense."

I listened, my expression carefully unreadable, though inwardly I measured every syllable of his petty bitterness. His words slid off me like water, failing to match the woman I had just encountered. That woman hadn’t been desperate or hysterical. She hadn’t been some conniving mess, pulling at the strings of sympathy. She had been fierce. Proud. Dignified, even in her anger. Damian either lied to himself to soothe his wounded pride or had simply been too blind to recognize what he had thrown away.

"This custody dispute," I said, voice even and detached, "that's what this is about?"

"Yes, sir," Damian replied quickly, eager to wash his hands of the conversation. His scowl deepened, and he added with a sneer, "Court date’s coming up. Waste of everyone's time. She’s bluffing. She doesn’t stand a chance."

I leaned back even further in my chair, steepling my fingers in thought. So that was it. A custody battle. High emotions, simmering resentment, and two people who saw the same event through very different lenses. Damian, as always, had reduced it to a matter of annoyance and superiority. But I had seen the fire burning in Liana’s eyes. She was not bluffing. She was fighting for something she believed mattered—and I suspected she had more than enough cause to do so.

"Then I’ll be there," I said smoothly, watching Damian closely.

His head jerked up, surprise flashing across his features before it was quickly smothered by panic. "Sir... that’s really not necessary," he stammered, his words tripping over each other. "I wouldn’t want to waste your time. You’re far too busy to bother with something like this."

"Nonsense," I replied, tone absolute and leaving no room for argument. "You’re a valuable asset to this company, Damian. It’s only right that I support you when you face personal obstacles." I watched the relief wash over him, softening his posture, easing the stiffness in his shoulders. He mistook my words for genuine loyalty. Let him. Let him believe it.

The truth was far simpler. I wasn’t interested in bolstering Damian’s ego. I wasn’t even particularly concerned about the company’s image. I wanted to see her again. The wildfire woman. Liana.

There was something about her that called to me, something rare and exhilarating. Most people learned to fear me before they even crossed the threshold into my world. They shrank from the gravity of my power. But she had stood before me, trembling not with fear, but with fury. She had challenged, not cowered. That kind of spirit was intoxicating—and dangerous.

Damian, still muttering under his breath, continued to try and paint her as unstable, conniving, a parasite. I barely heard him. His words were petty, his bitterness transparent. He had lost something valuable, and instead of mourning it properly, he had poisoned himself with contempt. It was easier for him that way.

I made a noncommittal sound, already dismissing his narrative. He didn’t know her anymore, if he ever had. What had gone so wrong between them? What had turned a woman like Liana into a force strong enough to walk into the lion’s den without hesitation? More importantly, why had she not bowed, not begged, when any sane person would have?

The thought of seeing her again, of watching her in that sterile courtroom, hearing her voice ring out against the odds, sent a slow, visceral thrill through me. Damian thought he was managing the situation, but he was a fool. He didn’t even see her clearly. But I did. And once I decided I wanted something—or someone—I never stopped until it was mine.

The intercom buzzed, my assistant’s voice crisp and professional. She asked if I wanted my schedule cleared for the upcoming court date. I gave a clipped affirmative without hesitation. I would need time. Space. Opportunity. I turned my gaze back to Damian, who still hovered near the door like an obedient dog.

"You’ll keep me informed," I said, dismissing him with a flick of my hand.

"Of course, sir. Anything you need," he said quickly, bowing his head before backing out of the room.

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving me alone with the quiet hum of the city far below. I sat for a long moment in the heavy silence, letting my mind spin threads of possibility.

Liana.

I tasted the name silently, savoring the way it curled on my tongue. There was heat in it. Resistance. A challenge I found impossible to ignore. I didn’t want her easy submission. I didn’t crave the hollow victory of another conquest handed over without a fight. I wanted the fire. I wanted the struggle. I wanted to earn her surrender the hard way, to see it etched into every stubborn line of her body when she finally, inevitably, yielded to me.

I wasn’t in the habit of chasing women. They usually came to me, drawn by the gravitational pull of power, of money, of danger. But Liana would be different. She wouldn’t even realize she was being hunted. Not yet.

I would be there in that courtroom. I would watch her, study her, learn every crack in the armor she wore so bravely. And when the time was right, I would make my move. Not today. Not tomorrow. But soon. Because once I decided someone was mine, nothing—and no one—stood in my way.

Especially not a woman like Liana, who had no idea just how dangerous it was to catch the attention of a man like me.