Julian Thorne was huddled in the corner of a damp, rat-infested alleyway, clutching a half-empty bottle of cheap liquor.
He had spent the last of his pocket change. He was freezing, starving, and completely broken. Just two days ago, he was a billionaire CEO sleeping in silk sheets. Now, he was literally sleeping next to a dumpster.
If I hadn't given Elara that divorce paper... Julian thought, tears mixing with the grime on his face. If I had just fired Chloe... I would be sitting in the Vance Estate right now, ruling the world.
Crash!
A heavy combat boot kicked over the trash can next to him.
Julian shrieked, scrambling backward like a frightened crab. Three massive men with serpent tattoos stepped into the alley, blocking his only exit.
"Julian Thorne," the lead thug grinned, cracking his knuckles. "The Boss wants a word with you."
"No! Please!" Julian sobbed, holding up his hands. "I did what you asked! I got her to the pier! It's not my fault Darius Blackwood's men were there! I have nothing left to give you!"
"Oh, you have plenty left to give, Thorne," the thug laughed cruelly, grabbing Julian by the hair and lifting him off the ground. "Our Boss is going to war against the Vance Empire. And every war needs a good meat shield to take the first bullets. You're coming with us."
Julian screamed for help, but a heavy fist slammed into his jaw, knocking him out cold. They dragged his limp body into the back of a waiting van.
At the Vance Corporation Headquarters.
I sat behind my massive glass desk, my fingers flying across the keyboard. On the six monitors in front of me, red graphs were plummeting.
In just six hours, I had traced the Vipera Cartel's dirty money through forty different offshore shell companies. I initiated hostile takeovers, froze assets, and reported their maritime smuggling routes directly to Interpol.
Victor Vane's financial empire was bleeding out at record speed.
Click. Clack.
The lock on my office door turned.
I didn't look up from my screens. "Sebastian, I told you I don't want to be disturbed until I've completely wiped out their Caymans accounts."
"Sebastian is currently standing guard by the elevators, making sure no one interrupts us," a deep, velvety voice replied.
I stopped typing.
Darius Blackwood strolled into my office, looking devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit, with no tie and his collar unbuttoned. He casually locked the double doors behind him and walked toward my desk, carrying a sleek, black paper bag from the city's most exclusive Michelin-starred restaurant.
"Darius," I breathed out, leaning back in my chair. "This is a highly secure corporate building. How did you even get up here?"
"I own the building next door. And the security company that guards this one," Darius smirked, placing the bag on my desk. He braced his strong hands on the edge of the glass, leaning over until his face was inches from mine. "You've been staring at screens for seven hours, Living Yama. You skipped lunch."
"I was busy destroying a cartel," I replied, my eyes dropping momentarily to his lips before snapping back to his dark, amused eyes.
"And doing a beautiful job of it," Darius murmured. He walked around the desk, invading my personal space. Instead of pulling up a chair, he sat right on the edge of my desk, his muscular thigh brushing against my arm.
He reached out, gently closing my laptop screen.
"Hey," I protested weakly. "I was working."
"Work can wait ten minutes," Darius commanded softly. He reached out, his long fingers threading into my sleek hair, gently massaging my scalp. The tension in my neck instantly melted away. "You need to eat. And I needed to see my wife."
The way he said my wife sent a jolt of heat straight to my core.
"You didn't just come here to bring me truffle pasta, Darius," I said, looking up at him. "What happened?"
Darius's eyes darkened, the lethal Mafia King returning to the surface. "My scouts reported that Victor Vane's men picked up Julian Thorne from an alleyway twenty minutes ago. They're keeping him alive. Victor plans to use him as a hostage to negotiate with you."
I let out a sharp, genuine laugh. "A hostage? He thinks I care if Julian lives or dies?"
"I know you don't," Darius said, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. "But Victor is getting desperate. Your financial attacks have backed him into a corner. He's gathering all his remaining men at his underground casino tonight. He's preparing for a final stand."
I looked into Darius's eyes. The air in the office crackled with dangerous electricity. We both knew exactly what this meant.
"A final stand," I whispered, reaching up to rest my hand on his chest, right over his heart. "So, we end it tonight?"
"We end it tonight," Darius confirmed, his gaze dropping to my lips. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a rough, breathless whisper. "But right now... I'm going to kiss you until you forget about those spreadsheets."
He didn't give me a chance to reply. He pulled me out of my chair and into his arms, his mouth crashing down on mine.