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Predator's Gaze

Auteur: D. Zhang
last update Date de publication: 2026-04-09 06:13:20

The room rearranged itself the moment we walked in. It wasn’t me they reacted to—it was the man I walked behind like a lost sheep clinging to its shepherd.

Backs straightened. Faces turned sharper, more serious, alert. His presence alone demanded respect and urgency, and every man in the room gave it without hesitation.

We sat at opposite ends of the long table. It was full—sharp collars, raised shoulders, big egos wrapped in expensive suits. They were all quiet, waiting on Kai before the meet
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  • The C.E.O's Weakness    Predator's Gaze

    The room rearranged itself the moment we walked in. It wasn’t me they reacted to—it was the man I walked behind like a lost sheep clinging to its shepherd. Backs straightened. Faces turned sharper, more serious, alert. His presence alone demanded respect and urgency, and every man in the room gave it without hesitation.We sat at opposite ends of the long table. It was full—sharp collars, raised shoulders, big egos wrapped in expensive suits. They were all quiet, waiting on Kai before the meeting could even begin. Every few seconds, eyes drifted to my side, questioning who I was and why I had walked in with him. I clutched my notepad like a lifeline, pretending to study the blank pages so I wouldn’t look as clueless as I felt.“Twenty shipments in one month?” Kai’s voice was low, almost thoughtful, as though he were making a casual assessment. He leaned back in his chair, relaxed, and took a slow sip from the glass of wine that had been placed in front of him. I hadn’t realized it w

  • The C.E.O's Weakness    Bartholomew

    I stayed up until half past three, laptop glowing in the dark, tabs open to infrastructure financing, Voss Enterprises acquisitions, and tomorrow’s ministers. Notepad crammed with unfamiliar terms: tax holiday extensions, environmental compliance timelines.I wasn’t going into Kai Voss’s world unprepared. Not as some decorative accessory. Not after the night he’d slid that envelope across the hotel suite table and watched me fold.I shut the laptop and stared into the dark, pulse loud in my ears.I arrived at his penthouse at 5:30. Instructions said six. I knew. I’d memorized them. But insomnia had me up since four, and my body moved before reason could catch up.I rang the bell. Mistake.The door opened.Kai stood there, hair tousled, black robe hanging open—nothing underneath. The fabric parted just enough to reveal clean, disciplined muscle, the knot low on his hip like a deliberate taunt. My breath hitched. His chest rose and fell with calm breath.I cataloged the doorframe, the p

  • The C.E.O's Weakness    Employed Or Seduced?

    The hospital doors slid open with that familiar whoosh, and the cold antiseptic air hit me in the face, reminding me why I hated coming here. I took the elevator to the fourth floor, walked the quiet hallway to room 412. Mom was propped up against the pillows, smaller every time I saw her, the oxygen mask fogging with each shallow breath. The morning light came through the blinds in pale strips across her blanket. Her eyes lit up a little when she saw me."Ash," she whispered.I sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. It felt too light, too fragile. "Hey. How're you feeling?""Same old." She tried to smile. "The meds are doing what they can."Dr. Harlan came in a few minutes later. He was the one who never lied to me, never sugarcoated. He motioned for me to step into the hallway."The current treatment isn't holding back the progression," he said quietly. "We've talked about experimental options before. There's a new targeted immunotherapy trial — phase two data is strong. Earl

  • The C.E.O's Weakness    The Offer

    The next morning felt dull and gray, like the city had forgotten to turn the lights back on. Customers drifted through the bar in sluggish waves—Wall Street guys in rumpled suits grabbing espresso shots, tourists fighting hangovers with Bloody Marys, regulars who treated the stools like their second living room. My head was a fog, thoughts looping on repeat. And him, the stranger, hogging every corner of my brain. His hands gripping my waist like he owned it. Hot breath ghosting my neck. The way those eyes claimed me without a single word.“Table 4—two old fashioneds and that ridiculous espresso martini thing,” Othello called from the other end of the counter, already shaking something like it owed him money.I blinked hard. I’d been staring at the same knot in the wood for God knows how long. “Shit—yeah. On it.”He slid over while I fumbled the jigger. Leaned in close, voice low and teasing. “Yo, Ash. You alive in there, or did last night actually kill you?”“Yeah. Fine. Just… head

  • The C.E.O's Weakness    Hunger And Desire

    I turned.He was standing ten feet away, half in shadow, half lit by the spinning green light. The black tuxedo looked even more dangerous now, sleeves rolled once, revealing strong forearms. His eyes locked on mine.And this time he didn’t look away.His gaze lingered on me a little longer than necessary, mine did the same, drawn to his fine, sweat-slicked, sculpted abs straining against the suffocating black tuxedo that barely contained them. I bit my lip slowly, seductively, letting my gaze travel with deliberate intent from his loins upward until it locked on his face. His eyes caught the neon green light dancing across the disco, turning his stare intense, almost feral.He made the first move. His long legs ate up the distance between us in a few powerful strides. He curled his hands around my waist and jerked me toward him with taunting force, making me crash halfway into his chest. His cologne hit me hard: exotic and opulent. He lifted my face, gripping my jaw with his thumb a

  • The C.E.O's Weakness    One Night Stand.

    The bass thumped through the walls like a second heartbeat, the kind that never let you forget you were alive—even when you wished you could forget. I leaned against the polished black bar, polishing the same glass for the third time, watching the crowd pulse under the spinning disco ball. Neon green, electric blue, blood-red colors slicing through the haze of smoke and perfume.This was my kingdom. Or my cage. Either way, it paid the bills.My name is Asher. Twenty-four years old, and the only thing standing between my family and the street. 11 years ago, everything shattered. One night my father came home from his late shift at the warehouse, kissed my mother on the forehead, rubbed Nathan's hair and told me I was the man of the house now. He never made it to his bed. A single bullet to the back of the head in the alley behind our building, assassins, the police called it. No witnesses, no motive, just another unsolved file in a city that didn’t care about men like us. The company

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