MasukThree trembling fingertips pressed firmly into my right temple, attempting to suppress the dull, rhythmic throb pulsing behind my eyes. The leftover warmth of last night’s whiskey with Niall and Lora lingered in my blood, leaving a heavy fog in my mind. On the sleek digital display before me, a gallery of jewelry concepts shimmered. My eyes hovered over a sketch that drew me in—a pendant featuring a delicate, silver-dusted evergreen enclosed within the slender arc of a crescent moon."Ian," I said, my voice was raspy as I motioned toward the screen. "Reach out to the design team. Express my deepest appreciation for their work and let them know design number two, the Christmas in the Moon piece, is our winner. Extend my congratulations to everyone for their dedication. I am stepping out for a moment to grab a coffee."Ian adjusted his notepad, his expression shifting to one of polite concern. "Understood, Sir Carson. Though if you prefer, I can easily have someone retrieve a cup and
Niall spoke my name into the quiet space between us, but the sound died quickly against the heavy silence of his. I managed only a faint, hollow upward twitch of my lips, an empty gesture that offered no real warmth. We had finally made it back from the bar, the lingering scent of stale alcohol and cheap neon light still clinging to my clothes. Before we left, Niall had been meticulous, standing by the curb until Lora was safely tucked into the backseat of her driver's car. What tore at me was not her departure, but how effortlessly she had folded herself into his presence throughout the night. That sudden, fluid comfort between them had planted a cold, jagged knot in my chest, a frustration that had been quietly smoldering all evening and now threatened to consume me.My body felt weighed down, every limb heavy and sluggish from the drinks I had forced down my throat. Yet my mind remained mercilessly sharp, replaying every single second of what I had been forced to watch. I remember
My eyelids narrowed, straining against the strobe lights to verify the figure moving across the dance floor. It was Lora, yet completely unrecognizable. During our marriage, she never possessed this reckless pulse. In all the years I had known her, late nights and loud music held no appeal to her quiet nature. A heavy breath escaped my chest as a forgotten memory surfaced. Months ago, driving home late from the office, I had spotted her outside a club, stumbling under the influence of drugs, seconds away from a nightmare that almost ended her.Niall followed the line of my sight. I watched his gaze sharpen, the slow realization dawning on his features as he recognized the woman swaying beneath the ambient glow."Bro, is that Lora?" Niall murmured, his voice trailing off as he stared. "How did she get even more stunning than back when I was completely crazy about her?"My jaw tightened, refusal clogging my throat. Heat flared behind my ears, sharp and uncomfortable. The way he looke
The heavy air inside the lounge carried the sharp, familiar bite of spilled bourbon and expensive perfume, a sensory world I had kept at arm’s length for months until a sworn promise dragged me back into the neon pulse of the night.Across the dark mahogany, Niall reclined into the plush leather booth, framed by the faint, rhythmic glow bleeding in from the distant dance floor. We sat perched in the secluded hush of the upper VIP tier, buffered by high partitions and surrounded by only a handcount of velvet covered tables. The year abroad had polished him. The crisp line of his shoulders, the quiet posture of his neck, and the effortless movement of his tailored cuffs breathed a refined, almost effortless aristocracy. Yet, beneath that sleek exterior, the familiar glimmer of mischief lingered behind his eyes.Moments earlier, over the clatter of ice against glass, he had leaned in to spin a tale from his travels through Europe. He recounted a hazy, feverish midnight in a dimly lit c
The ambient warmth of the design studio is hummed with soft, steady friction. Fine silver filings danced through hazy dust motes, settling over velvet tray after velvet tray. I leaned against a heavy mahogany workbench, watching three artisans bend fine wire into delicate, sweeping filigree with tiny pliers. Sweat glistened on their temples under bright desk lamps, but no matter how intricate their craftsmanship remained, the company ledgers sitting upstairs painted a darker reality. Columns of red ink spilled across the fresh financial statements. Down four percent last month, another seven percent this week. Ever since La Lora’s enigmatic new Chief Executive stepped out from behind closed doors to claim their market share, Hemswood Lux had been bleeding prestige and profit in silence.Memory pulled me back to a cold, echo filled room six months ago. Lora had signed the final divorce papers with deliberate, chilling grace, sliding the fountain pen across the marble desk before meeti
A searing wave of gold standard light burned right through my sealed eyelids, radiating from some unseen point in the room. The sheer intensity forced my eyes to flutter open, only to be struck by a blinding glare that left my vision swimming in static. Instinct took over. I slammed my right forearm across my face, shielding my eyes behind the crude barrier of my own flesh and bone while waiting for the sharp sting to fade.The harsh illumination cut out suddenly, replaced by a dark, looming shadow. A man stepped directly into the path of the beam, wearing a wide-brimmed cordovés hat that cast his face in total darkness. His silhouette stood motionless, completely unrecognizable against the sudden twilight of the room."Who are you? Where am I?"The words tore from my throat as he shifted his weight, making a deliberate step toward the makeshift bed where I lay trapped. Panic surged through my chest, sharpening my voice into a desperate demand."Who are you?! Answer me! Where am I







