His To Claim

The smell of wealth was always the same like vintage cologne, iced liquor, and silent threats. Even here, three floors below the city's legal limits, it clung to the air like static before lightning.Zara Moretti stepped into the gold-lit ballroom like she owned it, even though the borrowed jewels around her throat still made her skin itch.“Careful,” Emilio whispered beside her, offering a flute of champagne he hadn’t paid for. “You’re looking a little too convincing.”“I should hope so,” she said, her eyes scanning the crowd behind feathered lashes. “I didn’t squeeze into this dress just to flirt with the bartender.”Emilio grinned. “He’s crying inside, you know. He poured that drink like he was imagining your entire mortgage.”“I don’t have a mortgage.”“Exactly. That’s why he’s crying.”The music was too soft, the kind that made people feel expensive. Around them, trust fund kids laughed like nothing could touch them, clinking glasses filled with thousand-dollar regret. The theme

Cassian Wolfe didn’t get rattled.He made billion-dollar decisions before breakfast. Signed off on mergers that gutted empires. He walked through his world like a king in a city built to kneel.But that morning, as the glass elevator carried him to the top floor of Wolfe Enterprises, the silk ring of her perfume still clung to the inside of his jacket—and it bothered him.He didn’t know her name.Didn’t know where she went.Didn’t even know if Zara was real.But he remembered the way she said it, cool and offhand, like she’d done this before—like disappearing was a habit, not a trick.The elevator doors opened into glass and gold.His assistant, Leona Vixon, stood at her desk, typing at speeds that suggested someone had already pissed her off.She looked up.Paused.“You look like you committed murder in a tux,” she said without missing a beat.Cassian didn’t answer. He walked past her, tossing his jacket onto the back of the nearest leather chair.“I need you to find someone,” he sai

The elevator chimed, and the glass doors whispered open.Zara stepped into his domain.Her heels struck the floor with an unhurried rhythm, every step a declaration. The dress she wore was deliberate: deep emerald silk that clung to her frame before falling loose at the knee, sleeveless but with a high collar that fastened at the throat like armor. A thin belt cinched her waist, gold catching the light each time she moved. It was elegance sharpened into strategy soft enough to draw eyes, strong enough to command them.And his eyes were waiting.Cassian Wolfe stood behind his desk, a figure carved from shadow and glass. His stare locked onto her the instant she entered—cold, cutting, hungry. The kind of look a predator gives prey just before deciding whether to pounce or wait.Zara met it head-on, refusing to drop her gaze.“Still staring like I’m a problem to solve?” she asked, voice smooth, edged.Cassian’s mouth curved faintly. “No. Like a problem I’ve already decided how to handle.

Her heels clicked sharply against the marble floor, the sound echoing through the hallway. Each step was deliberate, her posture regal, her calm unnerving. She didn’t look back once she had the tingling of the two mean sharp gazes cutting through her skin but she didn't care When she reached the car, she exhaled slowly, her breath got a little shaky she was tensed because of the tension she has been in but had to keep a straight face, she smiled to her self base on the dangerous satisfaction of outmaneuvering Cassian Wolfe in his own game.She slid into the back seat of the car and opened her compact mirror. The reflection stared back at her composed yet her cheeks a little flushed and her hands trembled just slightly as she reapplied her lipstick. The color remained deep red gleaming under the sun light, a perfect symbol of everything she refused to suppress she knew she was dangerous and this red lipstick made it known. She smoothed her hair, letting it fall loose around her shou

She saw him before he saw her.And for a second, she almost forgot to breathe.He stood there like sin in a suit like fuck he looked impossibly composed, devastatingly handsome, the kind of man who could ruin someone with a glance and make it feel like an honor. The tailored black suit fit him like it was stitched directly onto his body, outlining the broad strength of his shoulders and the lean lines of his frame. The first two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, exposing a faint edge of tan skin that made the look seem both deliberate and effortless.His dark hair was slightly tousled, not messy just enough to look touchable. His jawline was clean, sharp enough to cut glass, the kind sculptors could only dream of. And his eyes, those icy grey eyes, those stormy, unreadable eyes scanned the crowd with the kind of control that made people straighten just to be near him.There was something magnetic about Cassian Wolfe.A gravity that pulled at her even when she wanted to hat