LOGIN*POV Derby*
The hotel room door clicked shut behind us with a quiet finality. Sound echoed far louder than it should have, making my pulse jump. The muffled sounds from the hallway disappeared, replaced by the steady hum of the air conditioner and the uneven rhythm of my breathing. I stayed near the door for a second, suddenly aware of how different everything felt now that we were alone. Jordan didn't move toward me right away. Instead, he walked over to the window and drew the curtains halfway, letting only a wash of city lights spill into the room.. When he turned back, his hands rested loosely at his sides. He watched me with the same calm expression he'd worn all night. He didn't close the distance between us. He simply waited, patient enough to let the silence speak first. If I changed my mind, I knew he'd open the door without asking a single question. I really could have left. Nothing was stopping me except myself. Part of me kept insisting this was a mistake, that one stranger couldn't possibly fix what had broken inside me tonight, that I was using a stranger to patch a wound that wouldn’t heal in one night. Then the loneliness answered back. It was louder than reason had been all evening. Before I could argue with myself again, I closed the distance between us. My fingers curled into the front of his shirt before I leaned in and kissed him.There was nothing polished or graceful about it. Everything I'd been trying to hold together since seeing those photos finally spilled into that single moment. He tasted like whiskey and heat, and for a moment he let me lead, hands hovering at my waist without gripping. Then his fingers settled there, strong and warm, steadying me as he kissed me back. The kiss deepened. His tongue brushed mine, slow and sure, sending sparks down my spine. I pressed closer, feeling the hard plane of his chest against me. His hands slid to my hips, lifting me effortlessly until my back met the wall. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat of his body. I gasped into his mouth. He used the moment to trail his lips along my jaw, then down my neck, breath hot and ragged against my skin. When his teeth grazed that sensitive spot below my ear, a low moan escaped me before I could stop it. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there. His hands explored—sliding under my top, palms rough and warm against my bare waist. Every touch was deliberate, like he was learning me. Not rushing to take. Giving me time. Always watching my face, ready to stop if I changed my mind. He waited until I looked up at him before speaking. "You can say no," he said quietly. "At any point. I mean that." His breath sent goosebumps racing across my skin. “Anytime. I mean it.” I searched his face for another second, then slowly shook my head. No wasn't the word sitting in my chest. I pulled him closer instead, legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the bed. Clothes came off between kisses and quiet breaths. Every bit of closeness felt startlingly real after a night built on lies. His body was firm and warm, muscles shifting under my hands as I traced his shoulders, his back. He never stopped watching my face, checking my expression with every pause as though my silence mattered as much as my words. When he finally sank into me, slow and deep, my back arched off the mattress. A broken sound left my throat. He paused almost immediately, resting his forehead lightly against mine while we both caught our breath. "Are you okay?" he whispered, his voice barely louder than our breathing. I answered with a small nod before closing the distance between us again, pulling him down into another kiss. The rhythm built gradually—powerful but controlled, every thrust measured like he wanted me to feel all of it. At one point our hands found each other naturally, fingers slipping together without either of us saying a word. His low groans mixed with my gasps. It wasn’t just bodies moving. He looked at me as though I deserved his full attention, something I hadn't realized I'd been missing. Even afterward, he didn't rush to create distance between us. Eventually the room settled into silence again, the room fell quiet except for our slowing breaths. Part of me braced for awkwardness. For polite excuses. For someone to reach for their clothes and pretend none of it had mattered. Instead he shifted behind me, pulling my back against his chest in a loose, protective embrace. He quietly shifted beside me, close enough that I could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing. His arm rested lightly around me, never holding me in place, only reminding me he was still there. A quiet goodnight lingered between us, gentle enough that it caught me off guard. His lips brushed the nape of my neck in a soft kiss that sent one last lingering shiver through me. I let my eyes fall shut, surprised by how quiet my thoughts had become, letting the strange calm wash over me. My body was spent, muscles loose and satisfied in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Rian hadn't disappeared from my heart. The hurt was still there. It just wasn't the loudest thing inside me anymore. Dulled by the steady beat of Jordan’s heart against my back and the gentle way his fingers traced lazy circles on my hip, like he wasn’t in any hurry to let go. Sleep crept in quietly, pulling at my thoughts until they began slipping out of reach, heavy and warm. Right before exhaustion finally won, I heard him speak, I heard his voice, barely a whisper against my skin. His voice was almost lost in the darkness. "Who are you... really?" The question lingered in the dark, soft and wondering. It carried a weight that made my chest tighten even as exhaustion pulled me under. For the first time tonight, I wondered if one night with a stranger had opened something I wouldn’t be able to close again. **To be continued...***POV Derby* The brass key turned effortlessly in the lock, but the heavy oak door didn't yield with its usual firm resistance. It swung inward half an inch before my hand even pressed against the handle, drifting open into the dark foyer with a subtle, sickening ease. I froze on the welcome mat, my breath catching in my throat. My leather tote bag felt suddenly like lead in my grip. I never left the apartment unlocked. I had checked the deadbolt twice this morning before taking the elevator down to the garage. "Hello?" I called out, my voice thin and hollow in the narrow corridor. No response. Only the quiet hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the distant rumble of Manhattan traffic eight floors below. I took two cautious steps inside, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My hand fumbled along the wall, flipping the light switch. The warm glow of the entryway lamp illuminated the living room. Everything appeared untouched at first glance. The television
*POV Derby*Noah didn't greet me, nor did he offer his usual slick, charming smile. He stood motionless near the basement exit, tapping a pristine silver pen against his tailored thigh—a small, nervous habit he only displayed when a transaction was turning sideways.My fingers tightened around the strap of my leather shoulder bag. "How long have you been waiting down here, Noah?""Long enough to watch you walk into a dark archive room with the man currently dragging this entire company into a public slaughterhouse," he said, stepping forward. His polished Oxfords clicked sharply against the bare concrete floor. "You're reckless, Derby. The board is already reviewing server logs. You think no one noticed you slipping down to Basement Three?""I don't have time for this," I said, attempting to brush past him toward the elevator bank.Noah caught my elbow. His grip wasn't violent, but it was firm enough to lock me in place. "Listen to me!" he snapped, his voice dropping into a tense, hus
*POV Derby* Daniel’s tablet slipped from his fingers, hitting the carpeted floor of the conference room with a dull thud. I didn't bend down to pick it up. My eyes remained glued to the single line of green system text displayed on the screen: TERMINAL 88-04 / EXECUTIVE ACCESS CLEARANCE LEVEL 5. That wasn't a public terminal in the lobby or a shared workstation in the lobby annex. Terminal 88-04 was the secondary workstation tucked inside the private holding room adjacent to Jordan’s main office—a room only five people in the entire building had biometric access to. "Who was logged in at three-forty-five AM?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, though it felt like a scream in the quiet room. Daniel swallowed hard, his hands trembling as he picked up the device. "The system log registered an administrative bypass token. Someone used an old maintenance override key... one that was issued during the Zurich integration setup three months ago." My blood ran ice-cold. The leak wa
*POV Derby* The coffee in my ceramic mug had gone completely cold, a thin dark film forming over the surface, but I couldn't bring myself to put it down. On the glass wall of the eighty-eighth-floor conference room, the morning news ticker was scrolling in relentless bright red lines. It was no longer just financial analysts guessing about board proxies. By seven-thirty, key excerpts from the anonymous 4:05 AM email had already made their way onto three major financial blogs and a syndicate column in the Wall Street Journal. They didn't print the names yet. They didn't have the hard files or the hotel security stills. But the narrative was out in the wild: An executive conflict of interest at Vasquez Holdings, involving the Acting CEO and an internal compliance auditor during the Zurich transaction. "The phone lines in Corporate Comms have been jammed since six," Daniel said, setting a fresh stack of printouts onto the long mahogany table. His shirt was rumpled, his collar unbutto
*POV Derby* Daniel’s tablet screen flickered violently in his shaking hands, casting a blue light across the dark glass of my office. Jordan took two slow strides forward, snatched the device from his assistant’s grip, and stared at the glowing document. I didn't move from my place beside the desk, but my eyes locked onto his face, watching every muscle in his jaw tighten until the skin turned bone-white. The timestamp on the leak was brutal: 2:14 AM, sent simultaneously to forty-two corporate addresses, including Arthur Vasquez, Tamara Hayden, and every proxy member of the executive board. The digital trail of the night we met in London—a night buried three years beneath strict non-disclosure agreements, private hotel ledgers, and corporate silence—was now sitting in every director's inbox. "Get out, Daniel," Jordan said softly. "Mr. Vasquez, the media relations unit is already—" "I said get out." Daniel swallowed hard, glanced at me with eyes full of helpless pity, and backed
*POV Derby* The wrought-iron gates of the Vasquez estate in Greenwich swung open without a sound, swallowing Jordan’s sedan into a dark, tree-lined drive. Inside the main dining room, Arthur sat at the head of a long mahogany table built to seat twenty. Silver dinnerware gleamed under the crystal chandelier, but no food had been served. To his right sat Tamara Hayden, her hands rested quietly over a leather-bound folder. On his left sat two senior members of the board’s executive committee—men who had backed Arthur since the firm was listed on NASDAQ thirty years ago. Jordan didn't sit down. He stood near the edge of the Iranian carpet, his hands resting lightly in his trouser pockets, his coat still draped over his arm. "Sit, Jordan," Arthur said, his voice quiet, flat, and carrying the terrible weight of an absolute monarch whose authority had just been questioned in public. "I have three hours before the London markets open," Jordan replied, his posture completely rigid. "If t
-POV Derby The first thing that brought me back to reality wasn’t the blinding sunlight cutting through the heavy velvet drapes. It was the sheer, suffocating quiet of the room. I blinked my eyes open, my brain taking a messy five seconds to remember exactly where I was. Penthouse suite. The Four
-POV Derby I spent most of Thursday morning pretending my life hadn’t become significantly more complicated over the course of a single night. By the time I slipped into a seat near the back of the conference room, my presentation was already open on my laptop. The slides waited patiently on the s
-POV Derby By Monday I’d almost convinced myself it was over. Not in some dramatic way. Just… closed. Like shutting a tab you left open too long and deciding not to open it again. I made coffee that tasted like nothing. Went to work. Answered emails acting like the weekend had never happened,
-POV Derby I woke up first. My heart was already hammering before my eyes could adjust to the ceiling that wasn’t mine. The room still smelled like him — clean soap, warm skin, something that still clung to me from last night, the same scent that had wrapped around me last night when he paused r







