INICIAR SESIÓNThank you for reading
Noah stared at him, his mouth open slightly. "Christopher...""I said, administer the shot, Noah," Christopher repeated, his voice dropping into that quiet, absolute register of command that had built an empire. He unbuttoned the cuffs of his white dress shirt, rolling his left sleeve up to his elbow, exposing his pale, lean forearm and the faint blue line of his vein. "I don't care about the vascular strain. I don't care about the rebound heat. I need those three weeks. I am going to sign the Conin deal, I am going to destroy Damian's bloc, and I am going to remain the CEO of Ashford International."Noah looked at Christopher’s pale, fierce face for five agonizing seconds. He saw the absolute, unyielding wall of determination in his friend’s silver eyes—a resolve so terrifying and absolute that no clinical warning would ever break it.Noah let out a long, defeated breath. "God help us both."With precise, practiced movements, Noah pulled a pair of sterile latex gloves over his trembl
The rain outside the floor-to-ceiling glass of Christopher’s private residential penthouse didn't fall so much as it drowned the city.By Sunday morning, the autumn storm had turned bitter and relentless. Thick, water-logged clouds hung low over the Manhattan skyline, pressing down against the glass tower until the upper residential levels were shrouded in a cold, grey mist. Inside Christopher’s private living study, the only sound was the steady, heavy thrum of rain against the reinforced glass and the quiet, flickering amber hum of the gas fireplace trying to keep the damp chill at bay.It was failing to cool Christopher down. If anything, his body was making a mockery of the room's temperature.Sitting in a deep, dark-leather armchair, Christopher had stripped off his suit jacket, leaving his crisp white dress shirt unbuttoned at the throat. The top two buttons were undone to relieve the suffocating, tight heat crawling up his neck. His silver-grey eyes, usually clear and sharp as c
Christopher stood frozen in the center of the room. The quiet hum of the centrifuge echoed in his ears like a roaring train. His mind raced through the last eight months—every morning in his penthouse, every visit to the executive health clinic, every childhood check up, every custom IV drip he had taken to maintain his peak performance as acting CEO. Someone had been slowly, methodically stripping him of his Alpha biology from the inside out."Who?" Christopher demanded, his voice dangerously low, stripped of all emotion."I don't know who formulated the chemical catalyst,"“Grandmother who did this. You and mum were responsible for my childhood visits. How did this happen?”Eveyln didn't respond. Her mind was searching memories of the years back wondering how to answer her grandson's question.Noah diverted the topic, his hands frantically tapping the ta
"Do Alphas get sick Julian?" Christopher asked in a menacing tone, his silver eyes flashing with warning."I was just concerned," Julian said smoothly, standing up from his chair, buttoning his suit jacket, and wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.Julian picked up his leather briefcase and gave a brief, respectful nod to both Christopher and Evelyn. "I have a luncheon with the Swiss proxy representatives at noon. Keep me updated on the Conin signatures."Julian walked out of the executive suite, his heavy footfalls echoing down the quiet hallway until the door shut behind him.His grandmother gathered her tablet and files, standing up from the table. She looked down at her grandson her expression thoughtful, clinical, and quietly observant."Mr. Sterling is cynical, but he isn't wrong about one thing," Evelyn said softly, her voice dropping into a tone of quiet, professional concern. "You look noticeably fatigued, Christopher. Your stress indicators are spiking higher than I’ve e
The heavy oak door of the executive suite clicked shut behind Fabien Collins, leaving a heavy, suffocating silence in its wake.Cassian didn't move immediately. He remained standing near the edge of the mahogany desk, his hands resting casually inside his trouser pockets, his dark eyes fixed on Christopher with a lazy, predatory amusement. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the gloomy city fog pressed against the glass, casting a dull, grey wash across the room.Christopher stood behind his desk, every muscle in his frame locked in a desperate bid for composure. His hands were braced against the polished wood, his knuckles white. Deep in his chest, his heart hammered a ragged rhythm against his ribs. The lingering scent of Cassian’s Alpha pheromones—smokey cedarwood and sharp ozone—hung thick in the air, stirring a dark, humiliating heat in Christopher’s lower stomach. His secondary opening gave another slow, involuntary clench against his briefs, wet and demanding."Now," Cassian
“Mr. Ashford, I tried to tell him you were in a private meeting—!" Bill’s panicked voice echoed from the hallway.The door swung fully open, and an imposing, silver-haired figure stepped directly into the suite.Fabien Collins.Cassian’s father stood in the doorway. Fabien was in his early sixties, towering and immaculate in a bespoke three-piece pinstripe suit. He possessed the same sharp, striking facial structure as Cassian, with cold, calculating dark eyes that commanded instant authority in any corporate boardroom.In an instant, the romantic, heavy atmosphere in the room shattered.Christopher reacted instantly. He shoved Cassian back with a burst of force born of sheer survival instinct, stepping back behind his mahogany desk. He smoothed down his vest with two quick sweeps of his hands and adjusted his posture into an unyielding, rigid stance, though his face remained noticeably flushed and his chest rose and fell in heavy, controlled increments.Cassian didn't look flustered






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