5

Chapter 5

The penthouse felt colder in daylight.

Gray morning light sliced through the half-drawn blinds, turning the black sheets silver-gray. I sat in the middle of the massive bed, knees drawn to my chest, staring at the empty space beside me like it might suddenly fill with Lucian Kane again.

It didn’t.

His scent lingered smoke, leather, sex but that was all. No note on the pillow. No business card on the nightstand. No text lighting up my dead phone screen (battery long gone, charger nowhere in sight). Just silence and the dull throb between my legs reminding me last night wasn’t a fever dream.

I’d begged a stranger to ruin me.

He had.

Thoroughly.

And then he’d vanished like smoke.

My laugh came out cracked. Of course he did. Men like that didn’t do mornings. They did one-night obliterations and walked away clean.

I dragged myself out of bed on shaky legs. Every step pulled at sore muscles, tender skin, the faint bruises blooming on my hips where his fingers had gripped. I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror across the room and froze.

Mascara tracks had dried into faint black rivers down my cheeks. Lipstick smeared. Hair a wild tangle. Neck marked with faint red blooms from his teeth. Breasts still flushed, nipples dark and sensitive. Between my thighs God. Dried evidence of him, of us, streaked my inner thighs like war paint.

I looked wrecked.

I looked alive.

For the first time in years, I didn’t hate what I saw.

I found my ruined dress crumpled near the door, panties shredded beyond saving. No bra to begin with. I slipped the silk back on anyway clammy now, wrinkled, clinging in all the wrong places. Barefoot, I padded through the suite.

Kitchen. Living room. Bathroom.

Empty.

Immaculately clean. Like no one had ever been here except me.

The minibar was stocked. I grabbed a bottle of water, chugged half, then splashed the rest on my face. Cold shock. Better.

My phone finally found on the entry table blinked to life when I plugged it into the suite’s charger. Notifications exploded across the screen.

Mom: 17 missed calls.

Ethan: 8 texts (I didn’t open them).

Mia: 3 voicemails.

Work: 2 emails marked urgent.

Reality slammed back like ice water.

I had a life to return to. A canceled wedding to explain. An apartment that wasn’t mine anymore. A job I suddenly remembered I still needed.

I dressed as best I could smoothed my hair with wet fingers, wiped away the worst of the mascara with a tissue. Slipped my broken heels back on. Took the private elevator down.

The lobby was quiet. Early Saturday morning. The concierge gave me a polite nod, no judgment in his eyes. 

Either he saw this kind of walk-of-shame every weekend, or he was very well paid to mind his own business.

Outside, the rain had stopped. The city smelled clean, wet asphalt and coffee from somewhere. I hailed a cab, gave my address our address Ethan’s and mine.

Halfway there, I changed my mind.

“Actually… take me to Reed Enterprises Tower instead.”

The driver glanced in the rearview. “You sure, miss? That’s downtown. Traffic’s gonna be hell.”

“I’m sure.”

I didn’t know why. Maybe because I needed to feel in control of something. Maybe because showing up at work looking like I’d been thoroughly fucked would be the most honest version of myself I’d presented in years.

Or maybe just maybebecause a tiny, reckless part of me hoped that the man who’d disappeared this morning owned half the skyline and might be waiting behind one of those glass walls.

Reed Enterprises. The name had been everywhere lately billboards, news, the new tech merger that swallowed three smaller companies whole. Billion-dollar shadow. Cold. Ruthless. Untouchable.

Exactly like him.

The cab pulled up outside the sleek black tower forty minutes later. I paid with the last of the cash in my clutch, stepped out barefoot (heels in hand screw it), and walked straight through the revolving doors.

Security stopped me immediately.

“Ma’am, ID and appointment?”

I lifted my chin. “Lila Harper. 

Marketing department. I work here.”

The guard frowned at my appearance wet dress, bare feet, wild hair but swiped his tablet.

“Badge?”

“Lost it,” I lied smoothly. “Long story. Can you call up? Tell them I’m coming in to… handle a personal emergency.”

He hesitated, then buzzed someone.

Two minutes later, the elevator dinged. A woman in a crisp blazer stepped outmid-thirties, sharp bob, no-nonsense eyes.

“Lila Harper?”

“Yes.”

She looked me over once. Didn’t comment on the state of me. “Follow me. Mr. Kane wants to see you. Now.”

My stomach dropped through the floor.

Mr. Kane.

I followed her into the private executive elevator. She swiped a card. We shot upward fast, silent.

When the doors opened, it was straight into a corner office the size of my entire apartment.

Floor-to-ceiling glass. City sprawled below like a toy set.

And him.

Lucian Kane stood at the window, back to me, hands in the pockets of a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my car. Shoulders broad. Posture relaxed. Like he’d been expecting me.

The woman left without a word. Doors closed behind her.

He didn’t turn around yet.

“You’re late,” he said quietly.

I laughed—short, disbelieving. “Late for what? You didn’t leave a fucking note, Lucian.”

He turned then.

Same midnight-blue eyes. Same scar on his jaw. Same mouth that had devoured me last night.

But this version wore power like a second skin. Cold. Controlled. Untouchable.

“Language, princess,” he said mildly. “You’re in my office.”

My pulse roared in my ears.

“You knew who I was,” I whispered. “Last night. You knew I worked here.”

“I did.”

The admission hit like a slap.

“You let me beg you. You fucked me like I was nothing. And then you left me in your bed like yesterday’s trash.”

He crossed the room in three strides. Stopped just close enough that I could smell him again same cologne, same sin.

“I left because I had a board meeting at seven,” he said. “And because if I’d stayed, I would’ve fucked you awake. Again. And again. Until you couldn’t walk. And you have a presentation Monday you need to be able to stand for.”

I stared at him. “You’re my boss.”

“Technically, I own the company you work for.” His gaze dropped to my mouth. “And right now, you look like you’ve been thoroughly claimed by your boss.”

Heat flooded my face and lower.

“You can’t just ”

“Can’t what?” He tilted my chin up with one finger. “Make you come so hard you forget your own name? Mark you so everyone downstairs will smell me on your skin? Own every filthy little secret you gave me last night?”

My thighs clenched. Traitorous body.

“I should quit,” I breathed.

“You won’t.” His thumb brushed my bottom lip. “Because you’re already wet thinking about what happens next.

”

Damn him. He was right.

He leaned in, mouth hovering over mine. Not kissing. Just breathing me in.

“Monday,” he murmured. “Nine a.m. My office. Wear something I can rip off easily.”

Then he stepped back.

Dismissed me.

Just like that.

I stood there trembling, heart hammering, thighs slick again.

He returned to the window. “You’re dismissed, Ms. Harper.”

I turned. Walked to the elevator on numb legs.

As the doors closed, I caught his reflection in the glass.

He was smiling.

Small. Predatory.

Satisfied.

And I knew bone-deep, terrifying certainty

This wasn’t over.

It was only beginning.