Lysander's POV The heavy oak desk in my private office was piled high with documents, contracts, and financial reports, but my mind was nowhere near the billion-dollar deals waiting for my signature. I leaned back against my leather executive chair, resting my elbow on the armrest as I rubbed the bridge of my nose. The sharp ache behind my eyes hadn't faded. Every time I closed my eyes, the same frustrating images haunted me—the soft scent, the tremble of a body under mine, and the feeling of smooth skin slipping away from my grasp in the dead of the night. She escaped. A cold, bitter smirk formed on my lips. No woman had ever dared to treat me like a passing shadow, let alone run away from my bed while I was asleep. But she did. She vanished after that sinful night without leaving a trace—or so she thought. My eyes slowly shifted to the corner of my desk. There, sitting under the dim glow of my table lamp, was a sleek silv
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