The city blurred past in neon streaks as Lee pressed harder on the accelerator. The executive's black sedan weaved through traffic, desperate to lose them.
Emily clutched the seatbelt with white knuckles. "Crazy guy, you're going to kill us!"
"Stop calling me that," Lee muttered, eyes locked on the road.
Ray leaned forward from the backseat, grinning like a kid at an arcade. "Boss, admit it—you like it."
"Ray," Lee snapped.
"Right, shutting up."
The executive's car swerved toward an underpass. Emily gasped. "He's trying to lose you—there, look!" She pointed at a narrow service lane cutting off the main road.
Lee glanced once, then jerked the wheel, sliding the car cleanly into the shortcut. They emerged just as the executive's sedan roared past. For one heartbeat, their cars ran parallel.
Lee's jaw set. "Got you."
But the executive clipped the edge of a truck, spun the wheel, and disappeared into an alley too narrow for Lee's car. Tires squealed. The chase ended in smoke and frustration.
Lee slammed the brakes, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Emily exhaled shakily. "Well, that was… mildly traumatizing."
Ray patted her shoulder. "Welcome to life with him. No refunds."
---
Back at Milton's mansion headquarters, Mr. Grant, the father's trusted secretary, waited in Lee's study. He set down a stack of worn files.
"These belonged to your brother," Grant said quietly. "Notes from his last investigations. Before… before it happened."
Lee's cold mask faltered as he reached for the documents. Inside were maps, lists of names, and a photograph of the very same crest Emily had pointed out earlier.
Emily peeked over his shoulder, gasping. "That's it! That's what I saw at the warehouse café! I told you!"
Lee's eyes narrowed, studying her. His silence stretched until Ray broke it with a laugh. "Boss, looks like she's officially promoted."
Lee finally spoke. "You'll work for me. Temporary. Strictly for investigation purposes."
Emily blinked. "Work for you? Oh no, no, no. You can't just hire me like I'm some intern at Crazy Guy Inc."
"Interns don't survive shootouts," Ray quipped.
Emily groaned, but Lee's tone left no room for argument. "You'll start tomorrow."
---
Later that night, Emily collapsed onto her bed, phone in hand. Her best friend Clara answered on the second ring.
"You will not believe the kind of week I've had," Emily began dramatically. "First, I almost die in a club. Then I'm practically kidnapped by some billionaire-slash-psychopath. Then I get shot at, chased through a garage, and—oh! Did I mention he drives like a Formula One racer on caffeine?"
Clara snorted. "Emily… are you writing one of your drama scripts again?"
"I wish I was! No script could invent a man this arrogant and annoyingly handsome."
"Wait. Handsome?"
Emily flushed. "That's not the point! The point is, I'm apparently working for him now, and I don't even know his name!"
Clara gasped. "You took a job without knowing your boss's name? Girl, you're insane."
Emily groaned into her pillow. "Tell me about it."
And yet, as she remembered the way his hand had pulled her out of danger, the flicker of something almost human in his icy eyes… her heart beat faster, against her better judgment.
Emily's "first day" at Milton didn't start well. She was twenty minutes late because she got lost in the lobby—twice. Then she spilled coffee on Ray, who declared her "a workplace hazard."
"Relax," Emily muttered, clutching a notepad. "I've seen worse mornings."
"You mean survived," Ray shot back.
Lee walked in just then, crisp suit, icy eyes. "You're late."
Emily rolled her eyes. "Good morning to you too, boss."
He stepped closer, towering, his voice low enough only she heard. "When you're with me, punctuality is survival. Be late, and you'll regret it."
Emily swallowed hard, her brain short-circuiting at how dangerously good he looked saying it. Ugh. Why does he sound hot even when he's threatening me?
---
Later that morning, Lee led them to the forensics room. Photos of the latest body lined the wall. Emily gasped, pressing a hand over her mouth.
The victim's neck bore the same unusual triangular marks as the others. On the arm—a faint burn, shaped like the crest she'd spotted on the briefcase.
Lee's voice was sharp. "Pattern confirmed. This isn't random—it's organized. Someone leaves the mark as a message."
Emily leaned closer, frowning. "It's like they're branding them. Almost like… livestock."
Lee glanced at her, surprised. "Exactly."
Ray blinked. "Huh. Boss, I think the rookie just out-theorized me."
Lee ignored him, but there was a flicker of approval in his gaze.
---
Meanwhile, the executive sat in his office, sweating bullets. He tapped nervously at his desk, remembering the men in dark coats who'd taken the briefcase after he fled. He thought he was clever, part of some secret game—but the truth was, he was nothing more than a pawn.
And pawns were disposable.
---
Back at Milton, Emily had her first run-in with the fiancée. She arrived in the office uninvited, wearing a sparkling designer dress and carrying a cake box.
"Leee~!" she cooed, sweeping inside. "I brought you dessert. We should have lunch together!"
Emily nearly choked on her coffee. "Leee?"
The fiancée turned to her, eyes narrowing like a hawk. "And you are?"
Emily cleared her throat. "His… uh… assistant."
The fiancée scoffed. "Assistant? How adorable. He never keeps them long."
Lee, without looking up from his files, said flatly, "Leave."
The fiancée pouted. "But—"
"Now." His tone was like ice cracking.
She stormed out, heels clacking. Emily muttered under her breath, "Wow. You're charming."
Lee's eyes finally met hers, sharp and dark. "I don't waste time on things that don't matter." Then, almost as an afterthought, his voice dropped an octave. "You, however, might."
Emily froze, her heart hammering so loudly she thought Ray could hear it.
Ray whistled. "Boss, that was smooth. Almost romantic."
Lee shot him a glare. "Get back to work."
But Emily couldn't shake the heat in her chest—or the terrifying thought that maybe, just maybe, the "crazy guy" was starting to see her differently.
The club pulsed with bass so heavy the floor itself seemed to throb. Colored lights slashed through the haze, catching on sequins, glasses, and the gleam of dangerous eyes.
Emily tugged nervously at her short black dress. "Are you sure this is going to work?"
Ray gave her a once-over and grinned. "Relax, rookie. You look the part. Now if you just learn to stop staring at the boss like he's your forbidden crush, we might actually pass as undercover."
Emily scoffed. "I do not—" She froze mid-sentence.
Because there he was.
Detective Lee, the "crazy guy," stepping out of the shadows in a fitted black suit with no tie, shirt collar undone just enough to show the sharp line of his collarbone. His hair slicked back, jawline sharp, and the cold fire in his eyes amplified by the club's flashing lights. He didn't look real. He looked like sin personified.
Emily's mouth went dry. "Oh… wow."
Ray smirked. "Told you. Unreal, right?"
Lee glanced at her once, his gaze slow and deliberate. "Try not to draw attention," he murmured.
Her knees nearly buckled. Oh, sure. Like that's possible with you walking around looking like the dictionary definition of dangerous hot.
---
They moved through the club, pretending to be nothing more than strangers enjoying the night. But Lee's eyes tracked every corner, every shadow.
Then Emily saw it—the executive's assistant, slipping into a back room with a tall man in a gray coat.
"Wait!" she whispered, tugging Lee's sleeve. "That's his assistant!"
Lee's eyes narrowed. He hadn't missed it. "Smart girl."
Ray raised a brow. "Since when do assistants get mixed up in murder?"
Lee's jaw tightened. "Since the mastermind needed someone smarter than the executive to cover his tracks."
---
Inside the back room, Emily nearly tripped when someone grabbed her wrist. She looked up—and froze.
It was the executive himself, sweat beading on his forehead. "You—you shouldn't be here!" he hissed. "You don't understand! This is bigger than me!"
Lee stepped between them, shoving the man back with one hand. "You're too dumb to realize you're already a corpse walking. The people you're serving will eat you alive."
The executive stammered, eyes wide. "I—I just wanted power…" knowing he's been caught with no escape route.
"Pathetic," Lee muttered.
But before he could press further, one of the thugs spotted Emily and lunged. She gasped, stumbling backward straight into the edge of the table—until Lee caught her around the waist, pulling her flush against him.
"Stay behind me," he growled, eyes blazing.
Emily's heart slammed into her ribs. "Do you—do you practice being this dramatic, or is it natural?"
Lee smirked, lips close to her ear. "Natural."
Ray, from the doorway, groaned. "Great. Now it's a romance novel."
---
The fight broke out fast—Lee and Ray taking down two men while Emily hid behind the table. She was shaking, but every time she peeked up, Lee was there, sharp, lethal, untouchable. And for reasons she hated to admit, she felt safer than she ever had before.
---
The chaos broke when a tall man with a scar across his face entered the room, clapping slowly. "Impressive, Lee. Still chasing shadows?"
Lee's entire body stilled. The air between them shifted into something heavier, darker.
But before Emily could ask, a loud voice cut through the tension.
"Ray! You sneaky bastard!"
Ray's face lit up. "No freaking way—Ethan?!"
Emily blinked as Ray's old friend—tall, wild-haired, grinning like trouble—strode into the room, completely oblivious to the fight.
"Man, what are you doing here?" Ethan laughed, pulling Ray into a half-hug. "I thought you retired from chaos."
Ray grinned. "I tried, but apparently my boss is chaos."
Emily buried her face in her hands. "Of course. Of course his best friend would crash a fight like it's a reunion dinner."
Lee didn't even flinch. He simply pulled Emily closer to his side and muttered coldly, "Stay alert. This is far from over."
And for the first time, Emily realized—underneath the mystery, the arrogance, the danger—there was a man who would never let her fall.