Leah’s POVThe moment I hang up with Cece, I lean back in my chair, exhaling slowly. My mind is a mess, tangled in a web of emotions I don’t have the time or energy to untangle.Talking to Cece should have helped. Cece has always had the right things to say."You’re already with Ethan, but if seeing Dwight with another woman is shaking you up like this, maybe you need to take a step back and figure out what you really want."Maybe she did say the right thing. Maybe I was just the one who wasn’t ready to hear it...I should focus on work, not on the man who seems determined to unsettle me at every turn.Just as I click open my laptop, a knock sounds at my door. Ava, my assistant, steps in, her usual bright expression subdued.“Mr. Spencer wants to see you in his office. Immediately.”My stomach clenches.I sit up, feigning nonchalance. “Did he say why?”Ava shakes her head. “No. Just that it’s urgent.”A dozen thoughts race through my mind. Is this about my outburst in his office? Abou
Dwight’s POVI still can’t believe Leah barged into my office like that.It was reckless, unprofessional, and completely out of line. And yet, no matter how much I tell myself that, I can’t shake the look on her face when she saw Maya.That flicker of hurt—so brief I almost missed it. Almost.I rub a hand down my face, exhaling sharply. This shouldn’t bother me. Leah has Ethan now. She’s made that choice, moved on, built a life without me. So why did she look like that? And why does it still sit heavy in my chest?I lean back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.Maya.Last night with her had been easy. No tension, no games, no messy history weighing us down. Just two people enjoying each other’s company, no second-guessing. She’s sharp, confident, and refreshingly direct. She knows exactly what she wants and doesn’t hesitate to say it.She isn’t looking for something temporary.She wants a man who’s stable, dependable—someone who won’t waste her time.And I respect that.More than tha
Leah’s POVI don’t see Dwight again for the rest of the day.It shouldn’t matter. But God, it does.His words replay in my head, each one colder than the last."What if Maya had been an important client?"That one sticks the most. It confirms what I already suspected—Maya wasn’t there for business. He didn’t need to clarify further. The implication was clear.I exhale sharply, rubbing my temples. It shouldn’t bother me. Not when I’ve supposedly moved on. Not when I have Ethan.And yet, it does.More than that, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve ruined something. The almost-camaraderie we’d seemed to be developing, the rare moments when things between us felt easy, unforced. Now, that fragile thread has snapped, leaving only this unspoken wall between us.I push the thoughts away and glance at the time. Lunch. I have been skipping lunch too much lately and have noticed that my skirts have become a little loose around the waist.A break might help. A distraction.I stand, grabbing my p
Leah’s POVI stand in front of my closet, fingers trailing over the rows of perfectly pressed dresses.Pick your best.That’s what my father would expect.Anything less would be unacceptable.I exhale, stepping back slightly, my gaze sweeping over the meticulously organized space. Silks, chiffons, structured pieces in neutral tones—each one carefully selected, curated, and arranged. I know what he would say if I picked something too bold, too informal, too much like me.I finally settle on a sleek, dark green dress. It hugs my figure just right—elegant, refined, sophisticated. The kind of dress that doesn’t invite criticism.I slip it on, the cool fabric settling against my skin like armor.Next, my hair.I sink into the chair before my vanity, staring at the soft curls framing my face.Once, I had loved my curls.Wild and untamed, they had always felt like the truest expression of myself. Something uniquely mine. But my father had once told me, in his usual matter-of-fact tone, that
Leah’s POV When I arrive home, I feel more exhausted than I have been in months.I step out of my clothes as my brain plays back the events of today. From the woman who had been with Dwight to the brief meeting we had, where he pretty much warned me to stay professional.And then dinner with my father, where he reminded me that I wasn’t there to distract myself.But the truth was, I was deeply distracted by Dwight’s presence. And with the new knowledge that he had someone, I wondered how I was going to manage to keep my head in the game.I step out of my dress and into the shower, taking a much-needed bath. But as my body begins to tingle, I am reminded that I haven’t been touched in weeks.I shut my eyes and allow my fingers to roam my body as I try to drum up the image of Ethan in my head. Sweet, level-headed Ethan, whose love isn’t tumultuous, whose presence doesn’t leave my heart in turmoil.One finger flicks across one pebbled nipple, and I let out a low moan as the other hand s
Dwight's POVI lean back against the couch, one hand gripping my phone, the other swirling a glass of whiskey I haven’t taken a sip from yet. The city lights spill in through the tall windows of my apartment, casting a warm glow over the room. I exhale, listening as Maya’s voice fills my ear, light and effortless.“…So, of course, he tried to object, but the judge just looked at him like he was an idiot,” she says with a chuckle. “I swear, Dwight, the defense attorney was this close to getting held in contempt.”I smirk, shaking my head. “I don’t know how you deal with people like that every day.”“Easy,” she says. “I win.”I let out a low laugh, finally taking a sip of my drink. Maya is sharp—unapologetically so. Talking to her is easy. Entertaining. I’ve never been one for small talk, but with her, the conversations never feel forced.I should have done this months ago and not subjected my heart to hurt and hate. Talking to someone, getting to know how their day was, and telling the
Dwight's POV After we end the call, I stay seated on the couch, staring into my glass. The whiskey swirls, catching the dim light.Maya’s words replay in my mind, over and over."If you didn’t still have feelings for her, she wouldn’t be working for you."It’s a ridiculous thought. I have plenty of people working for me. My business is built on talent, not emotions. Leah is here because she’s good at what she does.That’s all.Right?I lean my head back, sighing.Maybe I did want to prove something to myself by bringing her onto this project. Maybe I wanted to see if time had truly dulled whatever we had.If I could be around her and feel… nothing.But I don’t feel nothing.I feel everything.Frustration. Annoyance. A strange, unwelcome sense of responsibility.And, worst of all, that lingering, unwanted pull. Had I tried to play with fire? Was this whole thing going to snowball on me?I shut my eyes briefly, willing the thoughts away.I don’t want Leah.Not anymore.But for some rea
Leah’s POVBy noon, I’ve made up my mind.Last night’s conversation with Ethan had left a knot in my stomach, and I refuse to let it fester. I need to fix this. I need to remind him—and myself—that we’re solid, that what we have isn’t fragile enough to break under the weight of a few misplaced emotions.So, I grab my purse and step out of the office, heading straight for the elevators. The morning had dragged on, filled with meetings, emails, and a brief yet impersonal exchange with Dwight about the campaign’s next phase. He had been all business, his voice cool, his demeanor unreadable. I had mirrored his professionalism, acting as though the past meant nothing.But the past wasn’t my concern today.Ethan was.The streets hum with life as I make my way to one of Ethan’s favorite cafés, the same one we used to frequent for weekend brunches when our schedules weren’t so hectic. I order his usual—chicken pesto panini, a side of seasoned fries, and an iced coffee. For myself, I get a gri
EPILOGUE Leah's POV I sit quietly by Dwight’s hospital bed, my fingers gently wrapped around his, the steady beeping of the heart monitor grounding me. After two surgeries, he’s finally resting.When I’d been told that Dwight was shot, I had felt my entire world crashing down. I’d cried all the way to the hospital, and it’d taken three men to keep me out of the operating room.But miraculously, he’s alive. Still here. Still breathing. Still mine. And yet, it all feels surreal—the whirlwind of the past few days catching up in uneven bursts. Ethan’s arrest, Gerald’s disgrace, the truth about Glimmr being Dwight’s all along becoming public. But nothing compares to the ache that comes from the one betrayal I never saw coming—my uncle’s.I had trusted him. Loved him. Thought of him as a steady force in my life. But behind all the warmth and concern was a man plotting to control me—using my heartbreak, pushing me toward Ethan, and scheming to seize Veloura for himself. He’d sat there at t
Dwight's POVThe road coils like a serpent beneath my tires, black and endless. Trees lean in on either side like silent witnesses, their twisted branches clawing at the pale sky. Gerald’s directions run through my head again and again, carved into memory. The House of Silence—what a sick, ironic name. My grip tightens on the wheel as I push forward, heart hammering in a rhythm I haven’t known in years.I tap my earpiece.“Parker.”Static, then his clipped voice. “Sir.”“I have done it. Coordinates check out." I tap on my screen, sending a screenshot of the map Gerald had handed me.“Mr. Spencer, wait. I’m pulling in backup. Don’t go in alone. I mean it.”“I don’t have time. He could be doing God knows what to that young woman right now. He needs to be stopped.” I couldn't let them do to her what they'd done to me.“Dwight—”“There’s no time, Parker. You won’t make it before it’s too late.”He curses under his breath. “At least wait nearby. Don’t breach. I’ll be there in fifteen.”But
Ethan’s POVShe looked like porcelain under the low light.Pale, trembling, slick with sweat. Her chest heaved as she lay on the stained cot in the far corner, wrists bound to the headboard with nylon straps, ankles tied tight. Her hair—light brown, maybe even blonde in the right light—was matted against her temples, soaked. And those eyes. Translucent blue, darting like a cornered rabbit, searching for a way out that didn’t exist.“I don’t know what I did,” she sobbed. Her voice cracked like something brittle. “Please, please let me go…”I didn’t move. I just watched her from the shadows, still as a breath held underwater. She tried to sit up, trembling, her arms pulling at the restraints with a sound like Velcro peeling from skin.“I’ll give you everything,” she cried. “My paychecks—every single one. I swear. Just don’t hurt me. My boyfriend… he doesn’t have money. He can’t pay ransom. Please…”God. She was alive. Alive in the way most people forgot how to be. The kind of aliveness
Dwight's POV Gerald Carrington lived in a two-story villa tucked behind a quiet cul-de-sac on the city’s west end. The neighborhood had a curated calm about it — hedges trimmed to military precision, pavement scrubbed of all disorder. Unlike his brother Felix’s sprawling estate with its sweeping gates and Greek statues, Gerald’s home was the kind of place that whispered wealth rather than screamed it. Tasteful. Secluded. Expensive, but not decadent.I parked three blocks down and approached on foot, dressed in dark jeans and a charcoal sweater. No cologne. No jewelry. Nothing that caught the light.Judith had delivered the address an hour ago. She’d also found a layout of the house — a scanned blueprint buried in some renovation permits from two years back. I studied it on the ride over, memorizing the entry points, camera placements, the blind spots between hedges and roof angles.I wasn’t here for a polite conversation.I was here for answers.The backyard was mostly covered — two
DWIGHT'S POVThe office around me — my own private quarters at Glimmr — felt too big, too empty, too quiet. Every tick of the clock on the wall sounded like a drumbeat inside my skull.I couldn't sit still.Couldn't stop moving.Pacing back and forth in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows like a caged animal.My hands itched to do something — to tear something apart, to find Ava, to end whatever nightmare she was living through because of me.Ava had trusted me.Worked for me.Smiled at me, grateful for opportunities and promises.And I had failed her.Just like I had once failed myself, locked in that dark, cold hell three years ago.I dragged my fingers through my hair, jaw locked so tight it ached.Where was Parker?Where was the goddamn call?My phone buzzed sharply on the desk.I lunged for it like a drowning man reaching for a rope.“Talk to me,” I barked, not bothering with hellos.Parker’s voice crackled through, low and urgent.“We hit Ethan’s place. Just finished. He's not
Dwight's POV The tires screeched against the pavement as I pulled out of the driveway, my hand clenching the steering wheel so hard the leather groaned beneath my grip. The night sky stretched endless above me, but I barely saw it. All I could see was Ava's face. Bright, smiling Ava, who was now missing — God knew where — because somewhere, somehow, I'd let my guard down.Not again. I wouldn't lose another innocent to this madness. I swore it.I jabbed the button on the dashboard, calling Parker first.He answered on the first ring. "Boss?""I need you to move," I barked, weaving through traffic like a man possessed. "Ava's missing. Her fiancé called the office — she never showed up back there after leaving my house."A sharp intake of breath. "Shit. You think it's connected?""I know it is." My gut was screaming, every instinct sharpened to a fine, deadly edge. "I need you to pull every favor, use every contact you have. Track her phone, hack into traffic cams, do whatever it take
Dwight's POVIt was dark out. Leah lay half-sprawled across my chest, the silky strands of her hair tickling my skin. Our clothes were scattered haphazardly across the room, abandoned in our urgency. The heavy rug under us cushioned our bodies, still slick and languid from the intensity of our lovemaking. I still couldn't believe the feelings that coursed through me as I'd made love to her. It was better than all the times I had allowed myself to imagine... to fantasize.It had been pure magic. Messy, but perfect. And having her here in my arms filled me with the duty of contentment that had been missing for three years. I could have stayed like that forever. Her breath warm against my skin. Her heart beating in slow, contented rhythms against mine. Her fingers moved idly over my chest, tracing lazy patterns. Every touch sent aftershocks through my nerves, subtle reminders of how close we had just been, how perfect she felt wrapped around me...And then her fingers stilled. She brushe
Dwight's POV The clock on the wall ticked mockingly at me, but I barely noticed it anymore.I sat behind my desk, staring at the documents spread out before me, but none of the words made it past the thick wall of energy thrumming in my veins. It was all background noise. Filler. Nothing compared to the singular, burning thought anchoring me:Leah.Home. Waiting for me.The thought wrapped itself around every nerve ending, making it almost impossible to sit still. I knew it wouldn’t last—this arrangement was temporary. But even knowing that, I couldn't stop the anticipation that practically vibrated in my blood. The pull toward her was too strong, too fierce to deny.I remembered the kiss we shared. God, I remembered every detail. The tentative way I had brushed my mouth against hers. The way she had frozen for a breathless second before melting against me, kissing me back like it was the only thing keeping her alive. That kiss had shattered something inside me. It wasn
Leah’s POVAfter Ava left, the house felt much bigger.Much quieter.And somehow, even though I knew I was safe, the silence made me feel small.I sprawled on the plush sofa in the sunken living room, laptop abandoned beside me, staring out at the endless stretch of green beyond the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The afternoon sun slanted in golden beams across the polished floors, painting everything in warm, sleepy light.I could still hear Ava’s cheerful goodbye ringing in my ears."Call me if you need anything, okay?"I had promised I would. But really, there was nothing Ava—or anyone—could do for me now.I needed time. Space.Maybe even forgiveness.The soft shuffle of footsteps pulled me out of my thoughts. I sat up just as the house chef—a kind-eyed woman named Marla—approached, wiping her hands on a white apron."Miss Carrington," she said with a polite nod, "would you like anything for lunch? I made a chicken and asparagus salad. Fresh bread too."My stomach gave an unexpe