The men were worse

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 chin tilted, silk shifting across her shoulders as she crossed the room. “Careful, Mr. Wolfe. Mishandle me, and you’ll discover I cut back.”

Silence stretched between them—thick, dangerous.

His stare never softened. Neither did hers.

Her desk sat at an angle to his, close enough to hear the scratch of his pen, close enough to feel the weight of his silence.

Zara typed, keeping her gaze on the screen, but she could sense him moving—papers shifting, drawers opening, the soft drag of his chair.

When she glanced up, he was already watching her.

“Problem?” she asked coolly.

Cassian leaned back, the corner of his mouth curving. “Only that you’re too quiet. Makes me wonder what you’re plotting.”

Her lips twitched. “Maybe I’m just working.”

“Mm,” he murmured. “Or maybe you’re waiting to strike.”

The charge between them made the air heavier than any boardroom negotiation.

Zara couldn't help but smile because Cassian seem to see her as a threat but on the other hand Cassian saw her as a mystery he needed to solve, it was the first time he ever met a woman whose wall was so unbreakable and it amazes him because every woman was ready to bow at his feet but Ms Moretti left him speechless

************

The email alert had barely faded from her screen before Cassian’s voice cut through the office.

“Meeting. Ten minutes. With the Grey family.”

Zara’s pulse stuttered. The Greys. Lucas Grey—heir to the empire that had swallowed hers. The same name tangled with her mother’s ruin.

Cassian was already sliding files into his briefcase, crisp and efficient, as though he hadn’t just thrown her straight into the fire. “You’ll come with me,” he added, not even looking up.

Her chair scraped softly as she rose. “Of course.”

But instead of heading for the door, she veered down the hall, her heels quick against the marble. Straight into the bathroom.

She locked the door behind her and gripped the counter. Her reflection stared back—polished, restrained, forgettable. Not enough. Not for this meeting.

Her hand reached for her bag. A swipe of foundation, the soft brush of powder—then the bold stroke of scarlet lipstick painting her mouth into a weapon. Her fingers freed her hair from its twist, dark waves spilling over her shoulders like a challenge. No longer the perfect assistant. Now—danger incarnate.

Zara leaned closer to the mirror, pressing her lips together, fire blooming against the cold weight in her chest. The Greys would look at her today. They would remember her name.

She slipped out just as Cassian was fastening his watch. He turned, ready to issue another clipped command—then froze.

His gaze dragged over her, sharp as a blade. Down the cascade of hair, over the crimson slash of her mouth, the silk clinging to her frame.

The muscle in his jaw tightened. Then—he scoffed, low and dangerous.

“You’re not going to a party, Moretti.”

Zara’s chin tilted, lips curving with deliberate defiance.

“No,” she said, her voice smooth as velvet, edged like glass. “I’m your assistant and I have to match your energy Mr Wolfe .”

For a moment, the silence between them was louder than the city outside.

Cassian’s stare burned, unreadable. He shut his briefcase with a snap.

“Try not to set the table on fire,” he muttered.

But when he turned away, she saw the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. Not irritation. Not control.

Possession.

And he hated it.

The car purred to a stop at the curb.

Through tinted glass, Zara watched the Grey headquarters rise above the street—sleek in its own right, all black steel and mirrored windows catching the late sun. Impressive, but not untouchable. Not like Wolfe Tower, which dominated the skyline with unapologetic power. The Greys had influence; Cassian owned empires.

The door opened. Zara stepped out first, heels striking polished stone. Beside her, Cassian emerged in a cut of charcoal that turned heads instantly.

And heads did turn.

Women on the sidewalk faltered mid-step, gazes catching on Cassian Wolfe like moths to flame, hunger flickering in their eyes. Men nearby weren’t immune to distraction either—though their stares slid to Zara, tracing the dark fall of her hair, the sharp emerald silk, and the wicked slash of red at her mouth. Desire hung in the air, blatant and unashamed.

Neither of them cared.

They walked side by side, pace matched, a line of fire cutting straight through the stares and whispers. As if the crowd didn’t exist. As if the only gravity in the world was the pull between them.

Inside, the lobby gleamed with polished marble and tall glass. The Grey family crest gleamed in silver behind the reception desk. Sleek, yes. Powerful, yes. But compared to Cassian’s empire, it felt like a throne built to impress rather than to rule.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime.

Zara stepped in first, Cassian close behind. The doors slid shut, sealing them in. For a moment, the city fell away.

The mirrored walls reflected their image back at them—two predators sharing one cage.

Zara smoothed her skirt, lips curving faintly. “You enjoy the attention, don’t you?”

Cassian’s eyes lifted from the red at her mouth to meet hers in the glass. “What attention?”

“The women outside. Practically drooling.”

He leaned a fraction closer, his voice low, smooth, dangerous. “Jealous, Moretti?”

Her laugh was soft, sharp. “Hardly. The men were worse.”

Cassian’s gaze slid down, lingering just long enough to make her pulse stumble. “Yes,” he said, almost to himself. “They were.”

The elevator slowed. The air between them hadn’t.

When the doors parted, the atmosphere of the Grey empire awaited. Dark leather, chrome fixtures, and the muted thrum of wealth. Assistants moved quickly, whispering into earpieces.

And then—he appeared.

Leo Grey.

Tall, leaner than Cassian, but sharp in tailored navy. His smile was immediate, charming, calculated—the kind meant to disarm and lure. But his eyes, when they landed on Zara, darkened with recognition. And interest.

“Mr. Wolfe,” Leo said smoothly, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. “And… you must be Ms. Moretti.”

His gaze lingered on her a fraction too long.

Cassian noticed.

Zara noticed the flicker again

The danger

The possession in his eyes but instead she stretched her hands out to Leo grey with a bright beautiful smile

“Mr Grey” he took he hands and placed a kiss on the back and then Cassian seem to emit an aura cold as Texas

Zara smiled within herself she was in control