Ari stared at her phone. The address for the meeting hadn't arrived yet, but she didn't need it to start the next step. She was about to make another call when the elevator door chimes sounded, pulling her attention instantly back to the executive floor.Her head snapped up.A man stepped off the elevator, his presence a deliberate interruption to the floor’s polished silence. He was dressed in a suit that looked tailored in Milan and worn with natural authority, his build tall and athletic. He was exceptionally handsome, with a confident, almost regal bearing—majestic was the word that came to Ari's mind.He made a beeline for her desk, his stride measured and certain."Good afternoon,miss," he greeted her, a genuinely warm, knowing smile creasing the corners of his eyes.Ari was immediately on guard, her 'professional assistant' mask sliding back into place. "Good afternoon," she replied, her voice cool and even. "How may I help you?""I'm here to see your boss,Xavier," he said, the

The instant Xavier whispered the name and his grip tightened, the lights in the office abruptly cut out. The entire executive floor plunged into near-total darkness, illuminated only by the faint, distant wash of city light filtering through the large windows. Ari's initial shock was amplified by the sudden blackness. She tried again, urgently, to twist herself free, but Xavier's grip was an anchor, fueled by a terror that only existed in his nightmare. It was useless. There was no way to be free unless he released her willingly. A strange, involuntary calm began to settle over her. She was trapped, yes, but in the arms of a shattered man, not an attacker. She took a slow, deep breath and relaxed into his hold. The warmth radiating from him was intense, a stark contrast to the cool marble floor beneath them. She found her head settling naturally near his shoulder. He smelled of expensive cologne, and a clean, fresh sweat—a scent that, surprisingly, was not unpleasant. Her cheeks fe

Xavier’s eyes snapped open. His first sensation was the damp chill of concrete seeping into his back. His second was a dull, throbbing ache behind his temples. His third was the sight of his own front door, which was inexplicably a few feet above his head. He let out a low, rough grunt and shoved himself up onto his elbows. The world spun for a moment, and he had to clench his jaw against a wave of nausea. He was lying right on his welcome mat, angled awkwardly against the brickwork next to his expensive, potted olive tree. “What in God’s name happened?” He staggered to his feet, his muscles protesting with a stiff, bruised pain. He ran a hand over the rough stubble on his chin, the smell of stale cologne and something vaguely metallic—maybe his own sweat and the dust filled his nostrils. He had a suit on. Immaculate, expensive, and now definitely wrinkled. He was out here. Like a drunkard, a vagrant, a man who had collapsed on his own doorstep. He tried to stitch together the pr

Xavier’s shout of "WHAT THE FUCK!" reverberated through the silent, darkened boardroom, the shock wave hitting the walls before settling into a thick, horrified tension. A few board members coughed politely. Mr. Davis, frozen mid-gesture by the presentation screen, cleared his throat. Xavier dragged his hands down his face, forcing himself to take in a sharp, ragged breath. He slapped his palms lightly on the table, the action a sharp, percussive sound designed to snap everyone,and himself,back to attention. “My apologies, gentlemen. Most especially, Mr. Davis,” he added, his voice now a low, dangerous rumble of suppressed emotion. He composed his features into imperious authority, though his eyes were still alight with panic. “Please, Mr. Davis. Continue.” He sat back, his spine ramrod straight, and fixed his gaze on the presentation screen, but his entire focus was a humming, magnetic pull toward Ari. He didn't look at her, but he felt the heat of her gaze, knowing that

Gabriele lay stretched out in his bed. He was bare-chested and a woman named Sofia, dressed in a silk robe, knelt beside him, meticulously dabbing the injured area on his face with a disinfectant swab and dressing the wound. Her movements as she so hard to not make it sting.Gabriele’s face was a mask of frustrated fury, his jaw clenched so tightly his muscles were popping. He wasn't thinking about the physical pain, he was consumed by the humiliation of his encounter with Xavier Stewart.“The bastard,” Gabriele hissed, his voice low and ragged. “Unless I'm dead,I'll always go after that.psycho” He brought his fist down onto the velvet beside him, the impact muffled.He was enraged that Xavier had managed to land a clean, deep injury, while he himself hadn’t even managed to leave a lasting mark on Xavier’s perfect, controlled face. His frustration was a toxic, churning acid in his gut.Sofia, concentrating intensely on sterilizing the skin misjudged the pressure. The swab pressed to