INICIAR SESIÓNVictor had insisted on organizing a proper celebration after the Delacroix deal finally closed. By the time everyone had settled into the private dining room at Le Bernardin, the atmosphere was already lively. Wine glasses clinked, laughter bounced off the wood-paneled walls, and the tension that had hung over the team for so long seemed to have finally lifted. I was sitting near the middle of the long table, smiling as Nina dramatically recounted a minor crisis we had during the due diligence phase. Then, the heavy oak doors of the private room opened. The laughter from the colleagues seated nearest the door faded first. Then, the lively chatter slowly trailed off as heads turned toward the entrance. Forks paused over plates. The room went quiet. I turned my head to see what was happening. Lucian stood in the doorway. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored, dark charcoal suit, exuding a quiet, undeniable authority. When Nina had jokingly told me to "bring your fiancé" to the
Julian Carter stared at the quarterly revenue projections on his iPad, pressing his fingers hard against his temples. Ever since the corporate restructuring, things had been increasingly strained. Carter Tech was still running, but recently, as they approached a critical deadline for their latest product rollout, the operational friction had become undeniable. He found himself forced to aggressively seek a new round of funding just to keep the company's head above water. But he couldn't let anyone know that. Especially not in a place like this. Julian locked the iPad and took a deep breath, adjusting the cuffs of his bespoke suit as he sat in the plush leather armchair of the Obsidian Club—the most exclusive private members' lounge in the city. Sitting across from him, lazily swirling a glass of neat scotch, was Alistair Ashcroft. When Alistair’s office had reached out for a "casual chat about the tech sector," Julian had almost cancelled his entire week's schedule to make it. If
The final round of applause in the main conference room marked the official conclusion of the Delacroix case. It had been an exhausting, high-stakes marathon, but getting those two Delacroix cousins to choose long-term stability over a quick payout had made every sleepless night worth it. Seeing the documents finalized on the projector screen brought a profound sense of relief. Victor stood up from the head of the table, his usual stern expression completely replaced by a rare, genuine smile as he looked at me. "Excellent work, Evelyn. You handled the negotiations beautifully. Your judgment made all the difference." I smiled, a weight lifting off my shoulders. "Thank you, Victor. It was a team effort." As the meeting adjourned and everyone began filing out, my colleague, Nina, immediately fell into step beside me, nudging my shoulder playfully. "Look at you, Evelyn. Crushing it in the boardroom, and clearly crushing it in your personal life. Some people really do have it all, don't
Over the last few days, a bizarre, unprecedented shift had settled over the 65th floor of Blackwood Holdings. The famously unforgiving CEO was suddenly... lenient. Standing rigidly near the back of the conference room, Elias held his breath along with the twelve other senior executives. He wasn't entirely sure if this miraculous good mood would extend to the unlucky man currently standing at the front of the room. A mid-level director from the marketing division had just displayed the wrong financial projection for the upcoming quarter on the main screen—a catastrophic, amateur mistake. Historically, this was the exact moment where Lucian would systematically tear an executive’s career apart with just a few softly spoken sentences. The room was dead silent. The director was sweating profusely, his face entirely pale as he awaited his execution. Lucian tapped his silver pen against the table. Once. Twice. "Fix the decimal placement on slide four," Lucian said, his voice surprising
I took another bite of the scrambled eggs, ignoring his clinginess. Lucian watched the movement, his dark eyes tracking the silver fork. "I want some," he said suddenly, his voice a low rumble against my collarbone. Without overthinking it, I scooped up a small bite and brought the fork to his lips. He ate it straight from my hand. He let out a low, contented sigh. Before I could pull the fork back, he leaned in again, pressing soft, lingering kisses along the sensitive skin of my neck. I instantly shrank back, dodging his lips. "Hey," I protested, trying to shift away. "You have butter on your lips. Don't get it on my neck." Lucian paused. He looked up at me through his dark lashes, his expression perfectly mimicking a wrongfully accused, abandoned puppy. "Are you disgusted by me, Evelyn?" he asked, his tone dripping with exaggerated, pitiful hurt. "No, but—" I sighed. I awkwardly tried to lift my arm to push his chest a little further away from my neck. But the moment I moved
I slowly drifted back to consciousness, my mind pulling itself out of the deepest, heaviest sleep I had experienced in months. Before I even opened my eyes, the first thing I registered was the suffocating, inescapable heat wrapping around my entire body. I felt like I was being held captive by a giant, exceptionally warm octopus. A heavy arm was banded securely across my waist, pinning me to a hard chest, while a pair of long legs were tangled impossibly close with mine. The familiar, intoxicating scent of cedarwood was everywhere. I let out a soft groan and fluttered my eyes open. The morning sunlight was filtering through the penthouse curtains, casting a soft glow across the pillows. And right there, mere inches from my face, was Lucian. He was already awake. In fact, he looked like he had been awake for a while, just lying there watching me sleep. His dark eyes were incredibly bright, completely devoid of the bone-deep exhaustion from last night. Instead, he looked radiant,
My heart hammered against my ribs, a sudden, erratic rhythm that completely betrayed my usual composure.I crossed the entryway, my hand hovering over the heavy brass handle for a fraction of a second before I pulled the door open.The breath completely left my lungs.Lucian Blackwood
The subsequent conversation with Camille took hours. After a long day of navigating the underlying tensions of the Delacroix estate, the biting alpine air of the Geneva evening was a welcome relief. It was only the first day, and while there were still shifting dynamics to figure out, the overall s
Geneva was beautiful, but it was a cold, impenetrable kind of beautiful. The private archives of the Maison were located beneath their flagship boutique. The air inside was climate-controlled, carrying the faint scent of polished velvet and metal. Camille Delacroix, a family s
The sharp, bright lights of the conference room and the sprawling mess of files on the glass table felt like a welcome return to reality. I sat near the center of the long glass table, my eyes focused on the Delacroix case files spread out in front of us. The air in the room was thick with tensio







