Chapter Four

Zayden

By the time I was done with her, her legs were shaking.

She was still bent over my desk, breath shallow, hands gripping the edges like she needed the wood to stay grounded. Her blouse hung open, skirt wrinkled around her waist, skin flushed with the heat of what I’d just done to her.

I stepped back slowly, tucking myself in, and watched as she tried to gather herself, her body still trembling, her pride barely holding together.

And I couldn’t hide the smirk on my face.

Because she had walked into my office this morning like a stranger. Like a professional. Like she hadn’t ridden me so hard nights ago I nearly forgot my own name.

But now?

Now she was a mess, my mess.

“Still think it was just a one-night thing?” I asked, voice low, teasing.

She turned slowly, fixing her clothes, chin held high even as her legs wobbled. Her hair was tousled, lipstick smudged, and yet she still tried to meet my gaze with that same defiance.

“It was supposed to be,” she said, chest still rising and falling. “You’re the one who turned it into something else.”

I laughed under my breath, stepping closer again, brushing a thumb across her swollen bottom lip.

Because I had tasted her again… and now I wanted more.

“I have to get back to work,” she said eventually, her voice tight. Controlled.

I let out a low chuckle and leaned back against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, still watching her like she was something I intended to study all day.

“You’d make a perfect PA,” I said dryly.

She paused, eyes narrowing.

“Except,” I added, “you’re not particularly good at bringing coffee. Or showing up on time.”

Her jaw clenched.

“But,” I continued, my voice dipping, eyes dragging lazily down her body, “in every other way I want you to be good, you are.”

Her breath caught. Just for a second. But I saw it.

She stood there, frozen like she didn’t know whether to slap me or kiss me.

And then….

The door opened.

She jolted away like I’d just had her pinned to the table and someone walked in on us mid-fuck.

I would’ve been pissed if it were anyone else.

But it was Lucas. Perfect. Polished. Predictable Lucas Wolfe my younger brother. half-brother, technically. The only human alive who could walk in here unannounced and live to tell the story. He always seemed to show up at the wrong fucking time.

His eyes flicked between us Rielle, then me picking up every ounce of tension we hadn’t even tried to hide.

He felt it.

Rielle straightened, smoothing her blouse, pretending like she hadn’t just been seconds away from combusting. Her face was flushed, her fingers shaking slightly.

Lucas offered a calm smile. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?”

You have no idea, I wanted to say. But I only smiled, slow and sharp.

“Not at all,” I replied smoothly, stepping around my desk, voice laced with edge. “Rielle was just proving how capable she is… in ways that might not be listed in her job description.”

She shot me a look part warning, part what the fuck, part I’ll kill you later and I bit down a smirk.

Rielle straightened her blouse, her breath still uneven. She didn’t meet my eyes this time smart girl 

but her voice was steady.

“Is there anything else you need before I go, sir?”

I let my gaze linger on her for just a second longer than necessary before pulling back and sliding into my seat, reclaiming the space.

“No,” I said, my tone flat and composed. “You’re good to go.”

She nodded once, muttered a quick, “Have a nice day,” and turned on her heel, walking out like she didn’t feel the weight of my eyes chasing her down the hall.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I leaned back in my chair and exhaled.

“Interesting,” came Lucas’ voice behind me, amusement coating it like syrup.

I didn’t turn. “Don’t start.”

He chuckled and strolled in, hands in his pockets, that easy calm he always carried filling the space. “Your new PA, huh?”

“Yeah. She’s… efficient,” I said with a smirk.

Lucas dropped into the seat across from me. “Efficient in what exact aspect, Zay?”

I gave him a look, and we both laughed. The tension in my chest broke a rare, genuine moment. I stood and walked over to him, pulling him into a quick hug.

“Damn, it’s been what? Months?”

“Six,” he replied. “You know I hate staying in one place too long.”

Typical Lucas — always in motion, but never rushed. He was the kind of man who made people feel calm just by breathing near them.

“Still… good to have you back,” I said, slapping his shoulder.

He grinned, but his gaze flicked toward the door. “That girl though… there’s something about her.”

I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “She’s just my PA.”

Lucas raised a brow. “Right. And I’m just your stepbrother.”

We both laughed again, but I knew the look in his eyes. Lucas was observant, always had been. Too observant where he shouldn't, and naive everywhere else.

Lucas sat across from me, swirling a glass of bourbon like he didn’t just reappear after vanishing for months. 

Same lazy smirk. Same soft energy. The kind of warmth that people trusted instinctively. He hadn’t changed.

“How’s the search going?” he asked, his expression shifting, more serious now.

He didn’t need to say it. I knew who he meant.

My mom.

I’d been looking for her for months. The last time he showed up, he overheard my call with the investigator. So, he knew. He also knew I hated when people brought her up.

Maybe especially him.

The question caught me off guard.

I watched him. This man I grew up with.

Four years younger. Softer around the edges.

Light, where I’d learned to become dark.

We had the same father. That was undeniable.

But different mothers.

His mom… her name used to echo through our home. before it shattered everything.

She was my mother’s best friend.

The woman who sat at our table, laughed in our living room… then went and fucked the man of the house like she was entitled to him.

And when she got pregnant, she died giving birth to Lucas.

Like some twisted ending to a fucked-up story.

I was four.

I don’t remember the betrayal. I just remember the shift.

One day, it was just me.

The next, there was a new baby, a broken woman pretending she wasn’t, and silence where joy used to live.

But my mom….God, my mom… she didn’t hate Lucas.

She picked him up and raised him like he was hers.

Even when the father who never loved me treated him like a golden boy.

Then, one day, Lucas was sent abroad for school.

He’d come back only for the holidays.

As a kid, I hated him. Maybe not him exactly…

Maybe I hated what his existence represented.

A wound that never healed.

A reminder that Father had broken everything, and walked away clean.

But Lucas? He was just a kid. A good one. Loyal, even.

He didn’t ask to be born into the wreckage.

He didn’t know the weight he carried. 

And because of her, because of the woman who loved both of us we became brothers.

Because she made sure we didn’t know how to be anything else.

Still, I don’t know if I ever let go of the bitterness.

Not toward Lucas.

But Toward him( father)  the man who built empires but couldn’t hold a family together for shit.

“You okay?” Lucas asked, eyes narrowing, tone gentle.

I blinked. Realized I’d zoned out.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m yet to find her. But I will do everything in my power to find mom.” I said meaning every word.