LOGINSTACY'S POVThe silence in our bedroom stretched, thin and sharp as glass. His hands were a mess. I’d known, of course. Davis had sent a curt update hours ago. Secured the target. I’d lain here in the dark, waiting, my heart a frantic bird against my ribs. Now I watched him, standing in the doorway like a stranger caught in the light.“Where were you?” My voice didn’t sound like mine.He looked down at his hands, then back at me. A war played out on his face—the lie, the easy excuse, warring with something heavier. He sighed, a rough, tired sound. “The warehouse on Dock 12.”I let the words hang. He’s telling me. “And?”“And I caught David. He’s… secured. I wanted to teach him a lesson. A permanent one.” His jaw worked. He took a step into the room, the light catching the purpling bruises, the split skin. “I lost my temper.”A strange relief flooded me, hot and immediate. He wasn’t hiding it. He was giving me the ugly truth, raw and bloody. I pushed the covers back and swung my legs o
MIACHEL'S POVThe warehouse air was cold and tasted of rust and old motor oil. Concrete floors, high ceilings lost in shadow. A single hanging bulb cast a harsh yellow circle over the center of the space. In its center, David.He was slumped in a heavy metal chair, thick chains looped around his chest and legs, secured with padlocks. His head lolled forward, his expensive navy tuxedo jacket gone, his white shirt torn and dirty. One eye was already swelling shut from whatever scuffle happened during the capture. He was out cold.I stopped at the edge of the light. Davis stood nearby, his arms crossed, face impassive. Two other men I trusted flanked the doors.“Wake him up,” I said, my voice flat in the cavernous space.One of the men nodded, hefting a metal bucket. He walked forward and threw the contents—a slush of ice and water—directly into David’s face.The reaction was instant. David jolted, gasping, choking as the icy shock hit him. His head snapped up, eyes flying open, blinking
MIACHEL'S POVThe satisfaction was a cold, clean thing in my chest. I watched the committee head make the announcement, saw the shock on David’s face turn to rage, then to a kind of sputtering, public humiliation as security escorted him out. The applause felt distant. I already knew. I’d known there would be foul play. The organizers were in David’s pocket. But I’d found their dirt—financial skeletons, hidden affairs, the kind of leverage that makes men go pale. I didn’t threaten them into giving me the win. I made them see that giving it to the best candidate was their only clean way out. And that was still me.The crowd swarmed us. Handshakes, backslaps, empty congratulations. I accepted them with a tight smile, my eyes tracking Stacy. She was glowing, laughing with a group near the champagne fountain. The fear from the alcove was gone, replaced by a brilliant, triumphant light. It made my chest ache.My assistant, a sharp-eyed woman named Iris, materialized at my elbow. “It’s hand
STACY'S POVA low, cold laugh bubbled up in my throat. I let it out, letting it hang in the air between us. His thumb was still on my lip, his grip on my arm a vise. He thinks he’s won. He thinks I’m that girl.I leaned into his touch, just a fraction. Saw his pupils widen. Yes. That’s it. Believe it.“You’re right,” I whispered, my voice shaking on purpose. I let my eyes go wide, scared. “I am scared. Of you. Of losing everything.”A triumphant gleam flashed in his eyes. His thumb stroked my lip again, possessive. “Smart girl. Finally seeing reason. It’s just one night. A small price.”I nodded, a quick, jerky motion. “A small price. For Michael’s company. For mine.” I swallowed, making it look difficult. “You… you promise? You’ll call it off? The takeover?”“My word is my bond,” he said, the lie smooth as silk. He leaned in, his breath hot against my cheek. “I’ll be generous. I might even keep you on after. A personal assistant. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being close to real pow
STACY'S POVThe memory hit me like a physical slap, sharp and sudden, stealing the air from the glittering room.That office. Small, too warm, smelling of cheap coffee and ambition. My hands had been shaking as I laid out the business plan, my voice too bright, too eager. He’d sat behind a big desk, not saying a word, just watching me. His eyes—the same piercing, cold eyes now scanning the banquet hall—hadn’t looked at the charts. They’d traced the neckline of my thrift-store blouse, the curve of my hip in my only good skirt.“A compelling proposal, Stacy,” he’d said finally, leaning back. His voice was smooth, like oil. “You have passion. I like that in a partner.”He’d promised funding. A real investment. My heart had soared. Then his hand had covered mine on the desk. His thumb stroked my knuckles. “Of course, partnerships require… intimacy. Trust. A meeting of minds. And bodies.”The meaning had dripped, cold and slimy, into the space between us. I’d jerked my hand back. “I’m just
STACY'S POVThe warmth from Michael’s protectiveness still hummed under my skin like a second heartbeat. He’s looking out for me. Not in a way that felt smothering, but solid. Like a fortress at my back. It made me happy, in a deep, quiet way I wasn’t used to. That happiness, though, it fueled something else—a fierce, burning resolve.He’d worked so hard for this bidding event. Years of building Sotheby Holdings from nothing. I wouldn’t let him lose it. Not over my company’s drama. And not to his snake of a cousin.So I took care of it. All of it. The final preparations, the security, the traps. For the rival company sniffing for blood. For the cousin hiding in the shadows. I set the stage, and I made sure every piece was exactly where it needed to be.The day of the bidding arrived, sharp and clear. A perfect day for a war.“You’re sure about the arrangements for Millie?” Michael asked, his voice a low rumble as he straightened his cufflinks in the mirror of our bedroom.I finished c
Stacy's POVThe silence he left behind was heavy, suffocating. I stared at the closed hospital room door, my heart pounding against my chest. He showed it. That other side. The cold, furious control everyone whispered about. The man who broke doors and made threats and claimed people as his respons
Stacy's POVI walked out of the hospital with my papers in my hand. The sun was too bright. Everything felt strange.Then I saw him.Matt was standing there with red roses. He was smiling.This can't be real. He never does this. Never."Stacy, darling! Over here!" His voice was loud and sweet. Peop
Matt's POVThe hotel lobby was a cathedral of polished marble and my own failure. I stood there, the concierge's polite, empty smile like a slap, and I knew. She was gone. He had her.A red haze blurred the edges of my vision. "Check again," I snarled, leaning over the desk."Sir, I assure you, th
Stacy's POVThe hotel room was a blank, expensive box. High floor, premium privacy. They promised discretion. Information protection, the concierge had said with a smooth smile. It was my one safe card to play.I sat on the edge of the too-soft bed, my discharge papers a neat pile beside me. My han







