تسجيل الدخولPrescottThe first sign that something had shifted came through a spreadsheet.I was in my office reviewing the revised projections on the overlapping logistics deal with the Hale Group when the numbers refused to make sense. Two clauses that had been stable for weeks were suddenly marked for reassessment. A funding line previously described as “confirmed in principle” now carried a soft delay. None of it was an open attack. That was what made it worse.It was careful.I scrolled back through the email chain until I found the originating request for review.Marcus Hale.Of course.I sat back in my chair and stared at his name on the screen. Marcus had always been competitive, but he was not reckless with business out of pure emotion. If he was putting his hands on the edges of this deal, it meant something in him had hardened past bruised pride and into action.I pressed the intercom.“Aurora. Come
Marcus POVI should have ignored the message.That was the first clear thought I had when an unknown number flashed across my phone late on Thursday evening with a single line:*Unknown:* If you still care what happens to Aurora, we should talk. — MiaI stared at the screen longer than I wanted to admit.Mia.Prescott’s ex. The woman whose sudden reappearance had already stirred enough tension around the office and, if the whispers were right, inside that mansion as well. I almost deleted the text. Curiosity, pride, and the still-raw memory of Aurora choosing him stopped me.I typed back.*Marcus:* Talk about what?*Mia:* About the fact that Press is dragging her into something she won’t survive cleanly. And about whether you’re really content to watch it happen.That was how, the next afternoon, I ended up in a quiet lounge two districts away from the Zane offices, seated across from a woman who looked
PrescottShe didn’t stop me.That was all the permission my restraint needed to snap.One second Aurora was still looking up at me with that furious, breathless defiance, her fingers twisted in my shirt, her mouth a fraction from mine. The next I had her backed hard against the counter, my hands in her hair, and I was kissing her like the argument had only ever been a delayed fuse.She made a broken sound into my mouth and kissed me back just as hard.There was nothing careful in it. All the frustration of the last few days her doubt, Zoe’s soft poison, Mia’s public little performance, the constant battle of watching Aurora slip into her own head poured into the way I took her mouth. I bit her lower lip, dragged my hands down her body, and gripped her thighs hard enough to lift her onto the edge of the counter in one motion.“Prescott…”“No more talking.”I shoved her skirt up around her waist. S
PrescottI lasted longer than I thought I would before the quiet between us finally snapped.Aurora had been different for days. Not cold exactly or distant in the obvious way. Just slightly out of reach, as if part of her attention was always somewhere else. I saw it in the pauses before she answered me, in the way she checked her phone with her screen tilted away, in the careful softness she wore after every conversation with Zoe. Mia’s little performance at the reception had been one wound, Zoe was the infection that kept it from closing.Thursday night, I found her in the kitchen, standing at the counter with a mug between her hands and that same distracted expression on her face.“You’re doing it again,” I said.She looked up. “Doing what?”“Being distracted and being in your head.”Aurora set the mug down carefully. “I’m tired, Prescott. Not everything is a withdrawal from you.”“No. Just
AuroraI woke before Prescott the next morning, which almost never happened.For a few minutes I lay still beneath his arm, staring at the faint light filtering through the curtains, replaying the reception in pieces. Mia in that red dress the way she had walked toward us like she belonged in his orbit. The small, intimate brush of her fingers against his jacket. The eyes of strangers nearby as they watched the exchange. Prescott had left with me. He had chosen me in the moment that mattered. I knew that.And still my chest felt tight.I carefully slipped out from under his arm and went downstairs. The house was quiet. I made coffee more for something to do with my hands than because I wanted it, then stood at the kitchen counter and tried to convince myself that one public reminder of his past did not cancel everything we had built.It didn’t work as well as I needed it to.Footsteps sounded on the stai
AuroraI should have known the quiet would not last.Prescott had come home the night before from his conversation with Mia and told me it was finished one conversation. A clean ending he had held my face in his hands and said there was nothing left for her to reopen. I had wanted so badly to believe him that I slept with my forehead against his chest and let the reassurance settle deeper than it probably should have.By the next evening, that comfort began to crack.We were at a company-adjacent charity reception Dominic had asked Prescott to attend one of those polished evening events filled with investors, executives, and people who smiled too precisely. I had almost stayed home. Prescott had asked me to come anyway, not as his assistant, but with the quiet insistence of a man who no longer wanted me on the edges of his public life.“Stay near me,” he had said in the car.I did.For the first hour it a







