The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the towering skyscrapers that housed the Zion Groups. The office was abuzz with activity, a reflection of the powerful empire it represented. Employees moved with purpose, driven by a shared vision and the leadership of their enigmatic CEO, Zion Petrakis.
Zion was a figure shrouded in mystery, his reputation preceding him. At only 28 years old, he had built the Zion Groups from the ground up, establishing it as a formidable rival to the Diamond Groups. His chiseled features, mesmerizing gaze, and aura of confidence made him a magnet for attention, both within the business world and beyond.
Zion was a man of contradictions, his reputation preceding him. Tall and lean, with a body sculpted by years of dedication to fitness, he commanded attention wherever he went. His chiseled features and piercing eyes seemed to hide secrets within their depths, adding to the air of mystery that surrounded him.
But behind the charismatic façade lay a complex individual. Zion's success had come at a price – he was known for his arrogance, often dismissive of those who failed to meet his exacting standards. His sharp wit and piercing intellect commanded respect, but it also created an air of intimidation that surrounded him.
As the glass doors of the executive suite opened, Zion emerged, his tailored suit emphasizing his athletic physique. He moved with an air of effortless grace, commanding attention with every step. Employees whispered in hushed tones as he strode past, a mix of admiration and trepidation etched on their faces.
Zion’s office was a reflection of his personality, was sleek and minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city below. The room exuded an aura of power, mirroring Zion's determination to conquer every challenge that came his way.
Within the expansive office, Zion took his place behind the desk, a realm from which he orchestrated his empire. The room was a reflection of his personality – sleek and minimalist, yet exuding an aura of power and ambition. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city below, a constant reminder of the world he aimed to conquer.
Zion's attention was caught by a knock on his door, interrupting his thoughts. His assistant, Olivia, entered her efficient demeanor a stark contrast to his commanding presence. She carried an air of professionalism, a perfect complement to Zion's often brash personality.
"What is it, Olivia?" Zion asked, his voice laced with a hint of impatience.
"There's an applicant here to interview for the assistant position, Mr. Petrakis," Olivia replied, her voice calm and composed. "She's from the Diamond Groups."
A flicker of interest danced in Zion's eyes. The Diamond Groups – his greatest competitor. He had heard whispers of their heiress, a young woman determined to prove herself. The idea of hiring someone from the very heart of his rival's empire intrigued him. It was an opportunity to gain insight, to understand his adversary from within.
"Send her in," Zion commanded, a spark of curiosity igniting within him.
Moments later, the door swung open, and Amy Armstrong stepped into the room, her gaze steady and determined. Zion's eyes scanned her, taking in her presence. There was an air of confidence about her, an aura that betrayed her determination to prove herself.
Amy stood before Zion, her posture poised, despite the subtle flutter in her chest. She had heard tales of his arrogance and commanding presence, and now, faced with him, she understood why. His piercing gaze made her feel exposed as if he could see through the walls she had built around herself.
The room was quiet except for the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the occasional gust of wind brushing against the windowpane. The night was dimly lit by the soft golden glow of the bedside lamp, casting delicate shadows across the room. The sheets were soft beneath them, a delicate contrast to the storm of emotions pulsing in the air. Zion lay beside her, his fingers brushing gently over her arm, tracing invisible lines up to her shoulder. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just below her ear—light, almost reverent. Amy’s breath hitched, her body tensing slightly at the contact before melting into it. "You’re trembling," he whispered against her skin, his voice hoarse with restraint. "Is it me... or the anticipation?" Amy didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Her eyes said enough—half-lidded, glassy, unsure whether to hold back or fall completely. Zion continued slowly, deliberately. He placed feather-light kisses along the curve of her neck, pausing at the base of her throat. His
The tension between them was undeniable, lingering even after the presentation ended and the conference hall began to empty. Zion didn’t say a word during the ride back to the office, but Amy could feel it building. His silence wasn’t peace—it was pressure, and it was mounting.By the time they got into their shared office, Zion closed the door behind them with a soft click and leaned against it. Amy moved toward her desk like she hadn’t noticed, pretending to check her emails, but her fingers hovered above the keyboard.He finally spoke.“Have you met Lucio before?” His voice was calm, too calm, but his eyes didn’t match it. They were sharp—searching.Amy froze for a moment, then sighed. “Yes,” she said simply, not turning around. She didn’t want this dragged out. She didn’t want to look him in the eye.But that wasn’t enough for Zion.He pushed off the door, walked toward her, firm and deliberate.“Amy,” he said again, this time more firmly. “I want to hear all of it.”She started to
Zion was halfway through his cup of coffee when he heard it—the confident click-clack of stilettos echoing down the hallway. He lifted his eyes, and there she was.Amy.Wearing a sleek, curve-hugging corporate gown in charcoal grey, her hair pinned up in a way that exposed her long neck and delicate earrings. Zion blinked. Once. Twice.She looked like a boss, a queen, a walking distraction.The mug paused midair. His grip loosened for a fraction of a second. That’s all it took.SPLASH.A splash of hot coffee spilled straight down the front of his white shirt.“Sir! You just…” one of the maids exclaimed, rushing toward him with a napkin, gesturing at the growing stain.Zion groaned under his breath. “Damn it.”He dabbed at his chest with the napkin, clearly not amused.Amy walked in fully now, like she was gliding, her grin way too self-satisfied. She pulled out a chair beside him, placed her bag carefully on the floor, and crossed her legs with a casual confidence.“Someone got distrac
Amy lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her fingers absentmindedly clutching the edge of the blanket. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, but no amount of warmth from the covers could lull her to sleep.She had been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, trying to convince herself that she could sleep without his presence beside her. It had become an unspoken reality—one she hated to admit.She sighed quietly, gazing at the empty space beside her. The bed suddenly felt too big, too cold, too unfamiliar.Then, the door creaks open.Amy held her breath, pretending to be asleep as she listened to the soft sounds of footsteps. The faint scent of expensive cologne mixed with something uniquely Zion’s filled the room as he approached the bed.Without a word, Zion peeled back the covers and slid in beside her, the bed dipping under his weight. He let out a long exhale, exhaustion laced in every breath as he shifted closer to her.Amy was still, frozen in place,
For the next two weeks, Zion stayed home, turning his usually packed schedule into one that revolved around Amy. Though she repeatedly insisted she didn’t need a “babysitter,” Zion brushed off her protests with the same calm determination that made him so infuriatingly Zion.“This is unnecessary,” Amy grumbled one morning as she sat on the couch, her leg propped up on a cushion while Zion adjusted the ice pack on her ankle. “I can take care of myself, you know.”“I’m sure you can,” Zion replied without looking at her, his tone infuriatingly even. “But humor me, will you?”Amy folded her arms and huffed, glaring at the ceiling. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the help—her swollen ankle was proof enough she needed it—but having Zion hovering over her, day in and day out, was another matter entirely.Despite her complaints, Zion was relentless in his care. He
Zion had just finished his coffee and was about to head out when a sharp scream pierced through the quiet of the house.“Amy!” he called, his heart racing as he dashed up the stairs two steps at a time.He burst into the room to find her on the floor of the walk-in closet, her face twisted in pain. One of the shelves, once bolted firmly to the wall, now leaned awkwardly, its contents scattered across the floor. A heavy wooden panel had collapsed on her leg.“What the hell happened?” Zion demanded, dropping to his knees beside her.Amy gritted her teeth, trying to pull her leg free. “I don’t know… I just reached for a hanger, and it gave way.”“Don’t move,” Zion ordered, his voice low but firm. He leaned over, gripping the edge of the fallen shelf and lifting it with surprising ease. “Can you get your leg out now?”Amy nodded, wincing as she pulled her leg free. Zion pushed the shelf aside and immediately crouched down to examine her leg.“It doesn’t look broken, but it’s already swell