Chapter 2: His Eyes Are Made of Fire

The moment I walked out of Lucas Black’s office, my legs were shaking like paper in the middle of a storm.

His voice, his eyes, his smile—all of it felt dangerous, like standing too close to a fire without getting burned.

I used to be afraid of powerful men, but now I wanted to use them the way they used me.

The secretary outside his office watched me closely, probably wondering how I got hired without begging or showing fake smiles.

I didn’t care about her looks, or her questions—I had a war to fight and no time to waste.

My phone buzzed in my hand like a mosquito I wanted to crush, and of course, it was my father.

“Eva,” his voice snapped through the phone, full of anger and pride, “why did you embarrass Julian at that dinner?”

“I told him the truth,” I said calmly, “and if he can’t handle truth, he shouldn’t be wearing fake charm.”

“Do you know what you’ve done?” he barked. “That marriage was our family’s future. Now you’ve thrown it away.”

“That future didn’t include me,” I whispered, voice steady, “so I’ll build a new one without liars and broken hearts.”

He cursed, said something about disowning me, but I hung up, breathing hard, smiling as tears filled my burning eyes.

---

Later that evening, I sat alone in my small apartment, holding a photo of my past self smiling in blind love.

The girl in the picture had soft eyes, fake happiness, and no idea that her family would feed her to wolves.

I burned the photo with a match, watched the fire eat away her smile, and promised never to be her again.

My phone buzzed again, and this time it was a message from a number I didn’t save—but already knew well.

Lucas Black: Tomorrow. Seven a.m. sharp. Wear black. Silence is your power. Show weakness once, and I’ll destroy you myself.

I read the message three times, my fingers tingling like electricity just danced across my skin and kissed every nerve awake.

What kind of boss sends threats as morning greetings? The kind of man I needed to win this war with fire.

I smiled, texted back one word—“Noted.”—and dropped the phone like I was already used to dealing with devils.

---

By 6:55 a.m. the next morning, I stood outside his office again, dressed in black like a funeral was coming soon.

My heels clicked like gunshots on marble as I walked through the hallway, my heart racing but my face ice-cold.

Lucas looked up from behind his desk, his gaze sliding over me like heat rolling down every inch of my skin.

“You’re early,” he said, voice low and smooth, like he enjoyed women who followed rules without being asked twice.

“I don’t like being late,” I replied, lifting my chin, “especially not for someone who calls threats motivational speeches.”

He laughed, deep and rough, like gravel scraping against silk—dangerous and delicious, the kind of sound that ruined nights.

“Good,” he said slowly. “I don’t have time for cowards or pretty puppets who cry when things stop going their way.”

I nodded, standing tall. “I don’t cry anymore. I set things on fire and watch them burn without blinking.”

He stood, walked toward me with slow steps, stopping close enough that I could smell expensive cologne and raw power.

“Tell me, Eva,” he said quietly, “what exactly are you trying to burn?”

I smiled. “My past. Every lie, every scar, every hand that tried to push me down and called it love.”

He looked at me for a long time, like he was reading a book only he was allowed to understand fully.

“I don’t believe in love,” he said. “But I do believe in revenge, control, and power. Can you handle that?”

“I don’t just handle it,” I said, my breath sharp. “I feed on it. I need it more than sleep.”

He didn’t reply. He just turned, picked up a file, and handed it to me like it was a loaded gun.

“Read everything. Memorize names. If you forget even one detail, I’ll make sure you regret walking into my empire.”

I nodded once and sat at the desk in the corner, already flipping through the pages like I’d done this forever.

For hours, we didn’t speak. Only paper, coffee, phone calls, and the sound of him giving orders like a king.

I watched how he worked—sharp, cold, and efficient. Every word he said made someone run faster or fall apart completely.

Lucas Black wasn’t just powerful. He was a storm in a suit—and I wanted to learn how to become lightning.

At noon, he stood, grabbed his coat, and said, “You’re coming with me. Don’t ask where. Just follow and don’t talk.”

I followed him through the building, out into a black car, where we sat in silence as the driver took off.

The air between us was thick with something hot and dangerous, like we were seconds away from crossing a line.

“You like playing games, Eva?” he asked suddenly, turning to me with a look that burned straight through my guard.

“I don’t play,” I said. “I win. Or I burn the board and make new rules that only I understand.”

His mouth twitched. “Good answer. Now let’s see how you handle blood without fainting like every other soft little princess.”

---

The meeting was with a man named Mr. Zheng—CEO of a rival company who once tried to blackmail Lucas publicly.

He sat across the table, fat fingers tapping nervously, sweat pouring down his face as Lucas leaned in like a shadow.

I sat beside Lucas, silent, taking notes, watching the power shift with every cold word Lucas dropped like ice bombs.

“You tried to ruin me last year,” Lucas said softly. “I’m still standing. You, however, look like a man already drowning.”

“I never meant—”

Lucas raised a hand. “Spare me the lies. Just sign the agreement. Or I’ll make sure your secrets become headlines tomorrow.”

Mr. Zheng’s hands shook as he signed, and Lucas smiled without warmth, standing like the room now belonged to him alone.

As we left, Lucas leaned closer and whispered, “Did that scare you?”

I looked at him, my voice calm. “Not even close. I’ve seen worse monsters than that man—and I’ve survived them.”

His eyes burned into mine. “You’re different, Eva.”

“You have no idea,” I whispered.

---

Back in his office, he poured himself a drink and handed me one, the glass cool and smooth in my hand.

“To new beginnings,” he said.

“To enemies falling like dominoes,” I replied, clinking my glass with his before sipping slow and deep, like tasting victory.

He looked at me for a long time, then leaned against his desk, his tie loose, his shirt sleeves rolled up.

“You know,” he said, voice deeper now, “most people are terrified of me. You? You look like you want to bite.”

I smirked. “Maybe I do. Maybe I already did, and you’re bleeding and don’t know it yet.”

He laughed, low and dangerous. “Careful, Eva. Play with fire too long, and you’ll turn to ash before you get revenge.”

“Maybe I’m not afraid of burning,” I whispered, “because I already did once. And now I’m the fire.”