Maya's POVIt's funny how spaces can change overnight. The same office that had buzzed with competition excitement yesterday now felt like a minefield of whispers. Every conversation died as I passed, replaced by the heavy silence of people trying too hard to look busy."...can't believe they're sisters...""...guess that explains the interview...""...heard she and the CEO..."The fragments followed me down the corridor. I kept my steps measured, my spine straight. The morning light caught on my design tablet, and I held it like a shield as I made my way to my desk."Did you see the livestream?" Sarah from marketing didn't even try to lower her voice. "The poor sister, crying like that. Makes you wonder what really happened.""Well, you know how she got this job." Claire's response carried just far enough. "The CEO personally-""Stop." I hadn't meant to speak, but suddenly the words were there, cutting through the whispers. Heads turned - some guilty, some curious, some already deci
Daniel’s POVThe scotch trembled against my fingertips as I rewatched the press conference footage. My empty chair in the background spoke volumes - a visible gap in the carefully crafted image we'd built. Amateur mistake, leaving Fiona to flounder alone."What were you thinking?" I kept my voice measured, the same tone I used in board meetings when someone had spectacularly failed. "Did you even consider the implications before staging this little performance?"Fiona perched on my office sofa, her designer dress wrinkled from hours of damage control meetings. "Danny, I was just trying to-""To what?" Ice clinked as I set the glass down. "If it had been any other designer, we could have handled this. Money talks. NDAs exist for a reason." I studied her tear-streaked face, seeing it clearly for the first time. "But Maya? You chose to publicly attack the one person whose silence we actually needed?""I thought-""No." I kept my voice soft, final. "You didn't think. You acted on emotion,
Maya's POVI felt Daniel's presence behind me in the hallway, heavy as storm clouds. For once, I didn't turn around. Let him watch my back, for a change. The box in my arms - filled with design journals and old sketches - felt like armor against his silence.Three years of marriage, and only now did I understand what real power felt like: the ability to walk away. Each breath came easier than the last, like my lungs were finally remembering how to work properly.My shoes whispered against hardwood floors that had never felt like home. Each step carried me further from the girl who used to flinch at raised voices, closer to someone new. Someone real. I passed the living room where we'd hosted countless dinner parties, the kitchen where I'd learned to make myself small, the study where he'd locked away my designs. Memories ghosted through the halls, but they felt distant now, like watching scenes from someone else's life.Thunder rolled outside as I reached the front door. Through sheet
MayaThe key clicked in the lock, and I pushed the door open with my hip, balancing a box labeled "Kitchen Shit" in my arms. The apartment smelled of fresh paint and new beginnings."Home sweet home," I murmured to myself, setting the box down on the bare hardwood floor.The space wasn't much—a modest one-bedroom with high ceilings and windows that actually opened—but it was mine. No marble countertops. No designer furniture. No husband dictating which corner I could exist in. Just four walls that didn't feel like they were closing in on me."Is that the last one?" Olivia called from the kitchen, where she was unpacking my mismatched collection of mugs and plates."Two more in the car." I stretched, feeling the satisfying pop in my lower back. "Who knew freedom would be so fucking heavy?"Olivia appeared in the doorway, wiping her hands on her jeans. Her usually perfect hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, and she'd swapped her Thorne Designs blazer for an old t-shirt. "Worth every p
I yawned as the elevator climbed to my floor, my body heavy with exhaustion after a long day at Thorne Designs. Two weeks into my new job, and I was still getting used to the rhythm of actual work—meetings that mattered, deadlines that weren't arbitrary punishments, colleagues who valued my input. Freedom was fucking exhausting, but in the best possible way.My thoughts drifted to this morning's awkward encounter in the elevator. Emma, the head designer, had asked about my collection concepts while three other designers pretended not to listen. I could feel their eyes on me, assessing, wondering. The whispers had followed me all day—hushed conversations that died the moment I walked into a room."That's her... Daniel Russo's wife...""I heard he locked her up...""Alex hired her personally..."That last one stung the most. I'd earned this position, dammit. My fingers had been permanently stained with graphite for days before my interview, perfecting every design in my portfolio. But to
I made my way carefully through the wreckage, avoiding stepping on broken glass and torn fabric. Olivia kept talking, her voice a lifeline as I cataloged the damage. The bathroom mirror was shattered. My bed had been stripped, the mattress slashed. Even the cheap set of plates I'd bought at a discount store had been smashed against the kitchen floor.A knock at the door made me jump."That's probably the police," I told Olivia, making my way back to the entrance.But it wasn't the police.Alex stood in the hallway, concern etched across his features, his normally perfect suit slightly rumpled as if he'd rushed over. For a moment, we just stared at each other."Olivia called me," he said finally, answering my unspoken question.I pressed the phone back to my ear. "You called Alex?""Of course I did." Olivia's voice was unapologetic. "You need someone there now, not in forty minutes when I can fight through traffic. Plus, he's got resources."“You didn’t think to tell me?”Behind Alex, t
Alex stood by the door, watching me with an unreadable expression. "You shouldn't stay here tonight.""I'm not leaving." The words came out harsher than intended. "This is my home.""Maya..." His voice softened. "The locks are compromised. The place is a mess. At least let me call someone to secure the door properly."I sighed, looking around at the devastation. He was right, but the thought of leaving—of letting Daniel win—made my blood boil."Fine. Call someone for the locks. But I'm staying."His lips pressed into a thin line, but he nodded, pulling out his phone. While he arranged for an emergency locksmith, I began picking up the larger pieces of debris, needing to do something with my hands. I gathered the torn pages of my journals, carefully stacking what remained. Some designs could be salvaged. Others were gone forever.After he finished his call, Alex hesitated, then removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. "Where do you want to start?"I blinked at him, surprised.
The alarm shrieked like a banshee, dragging me from what little sleep I'd managed to find. My eyes felt like they'd been rolled in sand, and my back ached from the awkward position I'd maintained all night—half-sitting against the headboard, knife clutched in my hand. I'd dozed off around four, only to jerk awake at every creak and groan the building made."Fuck this," I muttered, silencing the alarm and dragging myself to the bathroom.The face in the mirror looked like shit. Dark circles shadowed my eyes, and my skin had the sallow tinge of exhaustion. I splashed cold water on my face, willing the fog to clear from my brain.Coffee. I needed coffee.But the kitchen was still a disaster zone, broken dishes scattered across the counter. I hadn't gotten around to cleaning that part yet. Daniel had been thorough in his destruction, not leaving a single mug intact.My phone buzzed with a text from Olivia.On my way with coffee and bagels. Don't argue.I smiled despite everything. What did
My father placed both hands flat on the table, leaning forward. His shoulder barely moved, but Crawford straightened in response—a subtle signal I couldn’t interpret passed between them. And that in itself was scary."While my daughter's personal life is her own business," he began.The word "daughter" hit like a fucking slap. My head jerked up before I could control the reaction, and I saw Richardson note it with narrowed eyes. I'd given them exactly what they wanted—confirmation that I could be rattled."I think we should acknowledge the... unique challenges she's facing," my father continued, letting the pause expand until everyone leaned forward slightly, scenting blood in the water."What challenges would those be, Robert?" Grandfather asked. The temperature in the room seemed to drop another five degrees at his tone."Her emotional stability since leaving the structure of her marriage. Let’s consider that," my father replied, his concern so perfectly performed it could win award
I took my seat at the head of the table, feeling the weight of every eye in the room. The leather chair creaked beneath me, and I winced involuntarily as I settled—still sore from last night. Richardson was directly across from me, caught the grimace. His gaze lingered a moment too long before shifting to the papers in front of him. Great start.Thirteen board members. Thirteen people who would decide my fate today. I scanned their faces, cataloging allies and enemies.My father sat at the far end, perfectly poised. Beside him, Whitcomb checked his watch for the third time in five minutes. Crawford had chosen a seat near the center, strategic neutral territory that everyone knew was anything but neutral. Chen and Martinez—usually reliable supporters—exchanged nervous glances, avoiding my eyes.Yamamoto, Grandfather's old friend, nodded slightly when our eyes met. A small comfort. Beside him, Wilson—ancient and immovable as the company itself—arranged her papers with military precision
I was ten minutes early and somehow still late.The Russo Designs headquarters loomed over me, all glass and steel and judgment. I'd thrown on the gray Armani blazer Grandfather insisted on, even though I couldn't remember why it mattered, but I wore it either way. My head throbbed, lack of sleep and too much Alex making it hard to focus on anything but putting one foot in front of the other.The receptionist's eyes widened when I walked in. Her gaze lingered on me, then suddenly looked very interested in her computer screen."Good morning, Ms. Vega," she said, voice carefully neutral. "Mr. Russo is waiting for you at the private elevator."Great. Just what I needed. A lecture before the firing squad.Grandfather sat in his wheelchair, positioned precisely in the center of the elevator alcove. Even in declining health, he maintained perfect posture, his suit immaculate, his eyes sharp as they cataloged every detail of my appearance. I could feel his disapproval very tangible.."You're
MayaI jerked awake to the sound of a garbage truck outside. The sunlight coming in from a window was at a wrong angle. Wrong ceiling too. My body registered Alex before my brain could—his arm was heavy across my stomach, and his breath warm against my neck.Fuck.We'd done it again. I was starting to lose count. The beach was first, then back at my place. This place last night. The soreness between my legs and the dried cum on my thighs sent flashbacks filled with so much pleasure, I could feel my pussy start to dampen.The garbage truck banged another dumpster, jolting me back. My phone buzzed somewhere. Again. Again. Probably been doing that for a while now.I fumbled toward the noise, and found the phone half-under the bed. Grandfather. Olivia. Grandfather again. My stomach dropped—7:48. Fuck. The board meeting is at 10:00. Prep session at Grandfather's was an hour ago."Shit shit shit."Alex shifted beside me. "Hmm?""I’m late. I have a board meeting." I swung my legs over the ed
"Yep. Appointed week ago. And get this—Thorne Designs is listed as a 'founding corporate partner' in their draft materials.""Is that so?" I felt a smile forming, the pieces realigning in a more favorable configuration. "And I assume there's considerable overlap between Thorne Designs suppliers and foundation beneficiaries?""Like you wouldn't believe. It's practically incestuous." Harrison popped his gum. "Massive conflict of interest if anyone bothered to look.""Perfect." I drummed my fingers against the table. "Keep the surveillance on the foundation office, but focus on board member interactions. Particularly Rivera and any communication with the Thornes.""You got it, boss." Harrison made finger guns at me, an infantile gesture I ignored. "So what's the play now? Since your boy Thorne is back in town.""We cut her off”"From you," Harrison said bluntly.I shot him a look,"From everything." I corrected it. "Maya believes in fresh starts, clean slates. She thinks she can erase the
Twenty minutes later, the door opened without a knock. Harrison strolled in wearing worn jeans and a leather jacket, looking more like a mechanic than a private investigator. The facility's temporary visitor badge was clipped haphazardly to his collar."Evening, crazy." He dropped into the chair across from me, propping his boots on the edge of my bed. "Nice pajamas.""Get your feet off my bed.""Aren't we touchy tonight." He complied anyway, leaning forward instead. "What's so urgent I had to bribe three night staff to get in here?""Thorne is back in New York."Harrison raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, since noon. You're just finding this out now? I thought you had spies everywhere.""You knew?" The pressure beneath my ribs intensified. The fact that every other person knew before me, and didn’t think it was necessary to tell me was crazy."Course I knew. It's literally my job to know." He pulled out a pack of gum, offering me a piece which I declined with a glare. "Landed at JFK at 8:17 A
DanielThe clock on the wall ran four minutes fast. I'd timed it against my daily medication schedule three weeks ago, but hadn't mentioned it to anyone. Small advantages accumulate.I watched the minute hand tick past our scheduled meeting time. Richard was late. The man billed $850 an hour and had never once been anything but punctual—until today. Unusual. Concerning. Richard's predictability was part of what made him useful—prestigious enough to satisfy the board's expectations, hungry enough to follow instructions without excessive moralizing.The burner Kevin had smuggled in buzzed. I glanced at the camera's blind spot before retrieving it.Message from 5772: Target no longer in Paris. Returned to NY this morning. Package undelivered. Awaiting instructions.I stared at the text, an unfamiliar sensation building beneath my ribs. Something hot and tight that made my fingers clench involuntarily around the phone. He shouldn't be back in New York. Not yet. Not for at least another th
I heard the rustle of fabric as he shoved his jeans and boxers down. Then his fingers were gone, and I felt the head of his cock pressed against me. He paused there, so close to where I needed him."Say it again," he demanded."Fuck me," I repeated, beyond caring how desperate I sounded.“Not convincing enough,” he said, an I could only imagine the stupid smirk he would have on his face.“Pleassee”He pushed in slowly—too slowly—filling me inch by inch until he was all the way inside. We both went still, adjusting to the feeling. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to leave marks, his breathing ragged above me.Then he started to move, building a rhythm that had me clutching at the sheets, face pressed into the mattress to muffle the sounds I couldn't hold back. Each thrust hit perfectly, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. I pushed back against him, matching his pace, taking him deeper."Harder," I demanded, voice breaking.His grip tightened as he complied, driving into me with
"What is it then, Maya? What exactly do you want from me?" He pushed off from the counter, taking a step toward me. "Because I've been trying to figure it out since the moment we met, and I'm still fucking clueless.""I just want you to treat me like an equal!" I shot back. "Not some fragile thing you need to protect!""When have I ever treated you as anything less?""You make decisions about my life without consulting me!""What decisions?" He threw up his hands. "Name one actual decision I've made for you.""You—" I faltered, searching for concrete examples. "You decided I couldn't handle knowing why you were going to Milan.""I decided to handle a situation quietly before dumping more problems on you." He took another step closer. "You're fighting a war on multiple fronts. Your parents. The foundation. The board. I thought I could deal with one thing without adding to your plate.""That's not your call to make!""Fine!" His voice was sharp now. "You want to know? Daniel's been havi