Amara Delaine smoothed the hem of her rented skirt, her fingers trembling as she stood before the glass tower of Veyron Global Holdings. This was it! She stared at the imposing edifice with Ill disguised trepidation layered with deep contempt and rage.
It glittered against the city skyline like a monument to greed. The Veyron Family greed.
Her throat tightened. Just five years ago, the Delaine name had been spoken with admiration, wealth, and prestige. Her father's company—her family's legacy—had been thriving… until Charles Veyron swooped in with his predatory deals, his promise of big and better opportunities , corporate mergers and swallowed it whole. Overnight, everything was gone. The estates, the cars, the servants. Her father's health crumbled under the humiliation, her mother's laughter vanished, and Amara learned what it meant to live in the ashes of what had been an wondrous empire.
Five years of living in the dirt. Five years of squalor. Five years since she lost her father to heartbreak and her mother to psychosis. Five years of scrapping while her fortune lay just few feet away from her!
Five years of careful, meticulous planning.
And now, she was back—standing at the doorstep of her enemy's kingdom. She arched her spine and raised her head high. Circumstances aside, she was a billionaire heiress and it was time to get what was hers, damn the consequences!
She was going to go in there.
Not to beg. Not to climb.
But to destroy. To lay the Veyron empire in ashes.
She straightened her shoulders, marched inside, and whispered to herself, One brick at a time. I'll tear Veyron Global down from the inside.
...
The receptionist barely glanced up when Amara handed over her résumé. "You're here for the junior analyst position? 12th floor. " She pointed toward the elevators down the exquisitely decorated reception hall, her flowery perfume hitting Amara's nose. Perfume that probably cost more than her year's rent. She gritted her teeth.
The reception must have felt her angst because she glanced up with a quizzical expression and asked, "is everything alright, miss? You better get a move on. Mr Veyron hates tardiness."
Amara's chest tightened at the name.
Mr. Veyron.
She'd never seen Adrian Veyron in person, but the tabloids painted him well enough: billionaire heir, notorious playboy, photographed with a different woman on his arm every week. He was ruthless in business, careless in pleasure. A man who had never known the taste of ruin or lack.
Exactly the kind of man she despised.
The elevator doors slid open and Amara stepped inside. The ride up was suffocating, every floor taking her closer to the man whose family she swore to crush. She got more and more irritated the closer she got to her destination, the elevator music certainly wasn't helping.
When the doors opened with a soft ding, the first thing she saw was him.
Adrian Veyron leaned casually against his assistant's desk, dressed in a charcoal suit that looked stitched from arrogance itself. His jaw was sharp, his dark hair swept back carelessly, and his eyes—cold steel grey—flicked toward her like a hawk noticing prey.
For a split second, Amara froze.
His gaze lingered, sharp and knowing. As if he could see right through the cheap fabric of her thrift-store suit into the rage burning beneath. He cocked his head to one side in contemplation as if assessing her qualities right there. Amara could hardly breathe, rooted to the spot as she was by the power of that gaze. He wasn't being subtle at all, his gazed roamed all over her body till she felt breathless.
Then his lips curved into the faintest smirk. "You're late."
Her pulse jumped and she nervously checked her cheap plastic watch. "I'm right on time."
"Not to me." His voice was low, dangerous, the kind of tone that made people bend or break.
He pushed off the desk and walked toward her with a lazy confidence that screamed power. Every step was calculated, predatory.
And when he stopped in front of her, so close she could smell the expensive cologne clinging to him, he tilted his head and said something that made her blood run cold:
"Congratulations. You're hired. And whether you know it or not…" His smirk deepened, eyes narrowing with a glint of something she couldn't place. "…you're exactly what I've been looking for."