MasukI woke up to the feeling of soft silk sheets against my bruised skin. My body ached everywhere — ribs, face, back — but the bed was so comfortable it almost felt like a dream. Then I remembered. Talia. The powerful woman who had saved me from those thugs and brought me to her mansion. She had told me earlier, her voice calm and authoritative, “Rest now, Leon. I have somewhere to be. My butler will take care of you until I return.” Then she had left, her elegant figure disappearing through the doorway like a queen leaving her subject. I had fallen asleep almost immediately. Now, as my eyes slowly opened, I froze. Talia was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me. She looked even more intimidating up close — late thirties, beautiful in a mature, commanding way. Her dark hair fell over one shoulder, and she was wearing a silk robe that clung to her full figure. I panicked. I tried to sit up too fast. Pain shot through my ribs and I gasped, but fear pushed me harder. I swung
My name is Leon, and everyone in this city knows me as the weak one.I walked quickly through the dimly lit streets, shoulders hunched against the cold night air, my worn backpack slung over one shoulder. Twenty-three years old, and I still felt like a boy who never grew up. No mother to soften the world for me. She left when I was four — ran off with some man who promised her a better life. All I had left of her was a blurry memory and the endless silence she left behind.My father never let me forget it.“You’re just like her,” he’d spit at me this evening before I left for my night shift at the warehouse. “Weak. Foolish. No spine. No balls. I don’t know why I bothered raising you.”His words still burned in my chest as I hurried along the cracked sidewalk. The city knew my story. The guys at the warehouse laughed behind my back. The neighbors whispered. Women my age avoided me like I carried bad luck. “Poor Leon,” they’d say. “No mother, and look how he turned out. So soft.”I ke
One week had passed since that unforgettable evening in Edward’s penthouse.We had become experts at avoidance.During the day, our interactions were strictly professional — short, polite exchanges about documents, schedules, and upcoming meetings. He was incredibly efficient, sharp-minded, and commanding. The entire company was already singing his praises. “Mr. Carson is a genius,” they whispered in the break rooms. “He handles deals like he was born for this.”I kept my head down and did my job perfectly. But every time our eyes accidentally met across a room, the air crackled. Every brush of fingers when passing files sent electricity racing through my body. I still remembered the feeling of his fingers buried deep inside me, the way he had made me fall apart against the glass window.I tried desperately not to think about it.On Thursday evening, just as I was preparing to leave, Edward called me into his office.“Miss Hargrove,” he said calmly, handing me a large elegant shoppin
The penthouse felt too quiet. Too intimate. The only sound was my own ragged breathing and the faint hum of the city far below the glass windows. Edward stood inches away from me, his presence overwhelming. My back was pressed against the cool glass, and every nerve in my body was screaming.“I… I should leave,” I whispered, even as my legs trembled. “This is wrong. You’re my boss. I’ve never done anything like this in a long time .”Edward’s eyes darkened. He placed one hand on the glass beside my head, caging me in without touching me. His other hand hovered near my waist, not quite making contact.“You keep saying that,” he murmured, voice low and velvet-rough. “But your body is telling me something different, Evelyn. Your nipples are hard. Your thighs are pressed together so tightly. And I can smell how wet you are.”A humiliated whimper escaped my throat. I wanted to deny it. I wanted to run. But the ache between my legs had become unbearable.“Just this once,” I breathed, the w
The next morning, the entire office buzzed with nervous energy. Whispers followed me everywhere I went. “Have you seen him yet?” “Is he really that handsome?” I kept my head down and focused on my usual routine, refusing to let the excitement affect me.I arrived at my usual time — 7:45 a.m. — and had just settled behind my desk with a fresh cup of coffee when the elevator dinged. The doors opened, and he stepped out.He was tall, easily over six feet, with broad shoulders that filled out his perfectly tailored charcoal suit. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his sharp jawline was shadowed with just the right amount of stubble. He moved with quiet confidence, ignoring the dozens of eyes that turned toward him. Without sparing anyone a glance, he walked straight toward his father’s former office — now his.Is that?Edward Carson?My jaw literally dropped.I had never in my life reacted to a man this way. A rush of heat flooded my body, settling heavily between my thighs. My breath
The soft click of my heels echoed through the empty hallway as I made my way to my office on the fifteenth floor. Another Monday morning at Stan & Sons Enterprises. Five years had passed since I became Evelyn Hargrove — the composed, elegant widow everyone admired but no one truly knew.I paused by the large floor-to-ceiling window, gazing out at the sprawling city below. The morning sun bathed the buildings in warm golden light, but inside me, everything felt muted. Gray. Predictable.At thirty years old, I had become an expert at maintaining appearances. My tailored black pencil skirt hugged my hips and thighs modestly, while my crisp white silk blouse was buttoned all the way to the collar. My dark hair was pulled into a neat chignon, and my makeup was minimal — just enough to look professional. Controlled. Safe.My marriage to Dan had never been much of a marriage at all.It was an arrangement born from the lifelong friendship between my mother and my mother-in-law. They had decid







