Novels by Nico

Dwight’s POVThe morning starts like any other—meetings, reports, and the usual cycle of decisions that keep this company running at the level I expect. I like order, structure, control. It’s the only way to ensure success in a world where emotions and sentimentality make people weak.Jordan and I are having a short conversation in the hallway about phony accounts on social media exploiting unsuspecting customers who leave bad reviews on our website when Leah walks in.I see her the moment she steps through the glass doors, the click of her heels sharp against the polished floor. She moves with confidence, her posture poised, her expression unreadable. But it’s her appearance that makes something in me still.She looks stunning.A white blouse, crisp and professional, yet fitting her just enough to hint at the curves I once knew too well. A sleek black pencil skirt that hugs her form, paired with heels that add just the right amount of height. That hair, that familiar, beautiful aubur

Leah’s POVThe next morning, I arrive at the office with a renewed sense of purpose. If I’m going to work alongside Dwight Spencer, I refuse to let him—or anyone else—see me as anything less than composed, confident, and in control. My attire is deliberate: a fitted white blouse, high-waisted black pencil skirt, and nude heels. My hair is styled in soft waves, framing my face perfectly, and my makeup is flawless yet subtle.I step through the sleek glass doors, making eye contact with the receptionist, whose mouth forms an "O" as I strut by, my expression unreadable.Then I see him.Dwight stands in the corridor, engaged in conversation with his staff. His stance is as composed as ever—hands tucked into his pockets, suit perfectly tailored to his form, exuding power and authority. But the moment his gaze lifts and lands on me, something shifts.His words falter. His expression remains neutral, but his eyes—those piercing blue eyes—betray him for the briefest second.Desire.It flicker

Leah's POVBy the time I return home, exhaustion clings to me like a second skin. The weight of the meeting, my father’s expectations, and Dwight’s unshakable presence have drained every ounce of energy I have left. All I want is to slip into my bed, shut the world out, and pretend for just a moment that none of this is happening.But as soon as I step inside, I freeze.Sitting cross-legged on my couch, arms folded, and an unmistakable look of impatience on her face is Cece. Her foot taps against the floor in a slow, deliberate rhythm—the universal sign that I’m about to get an earful.I hadn't seen her since our last meetup, where she'd announced her engagement to Shaun.“Leah,” she says in that clipped tone that immediately makes me feel guilty. “You forgot.”I blink at her, my mind racing. “Forgot what?”Cece’s eyes narrow as she gestures dramatically. “Our weekly coffee date. The one we’ve been having every Thursday for the past three years. The one you never forget. Until today.”

The hours seem to drag on as I sit in the conference room, mentally preparing for the meeting. Ava is there, assisting with the setup, and I can see the eagerness in her eyes. She’s new to this corporate world, and I can’t help but appreciate her enthusiasm and dedication.The door opens, and my father steps inside with a few of his board members following him. His sharp gaze scans the room before settling on me, his expression unreadable. He takes his seat at the table, and the room falls into quiet anticipation. I can feel his presence—always commanding, always expecting perfection.“Leah,” my father greets me with a curt nod, his voice low. He doesn’t need to say more; his words always carry weight.“Dad,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral, though the knot in my stomach tightens. I quickly look around the room, avoiding his eyes for a moment to steady myself. The tension between us is palpable, and I’m acutely aware of every glance from the board members.The door opens again, and D

At exactly eleven, I stand outside Dwight Spencer’s office, inhaling deeply before knocking.“Come in,” his voice calls from inside.I push the door open and step in, immediately met with the sight of him. Dwight Spencer, composed and effortlessly put together, sits behind his desk in a navy-blue suit. His eyes meet mine, sharp and unreadable.I shut the door behind me, keeping my stance firm. “Let’s make this quick.”He doesn’t acknowledge my hostility. Instead, he gestures to the chair in front of him. “Sit.”I hesitate for a moment, then walk toward the chair. I’m here to do business, not engage in petty power plays. I sit, adjusting the hem of my blouse as I settle into the chair, making sure I’m as professional as possible. This is work. Nothing else.His gaze remains steady, and for a brief moment, I wonder if he’s looking at me differently. Dwight always had a way of making you feel like the only person in the room—whether it was his commanding presence or the intense, quiet wa

By the time I arrive at the office the next morning, I’ve already convinced myself that today will be different. That I won’t let Dwight Spencer affect me. That I won’t let the past creep into the present.It’s a lie, of course.I’m still unsettled from last night—Ethan’s words, the realization that he’s right. That Dwight didn’t die, didn’t have an accident, didn’t lose his memory. He simply left. And now, I’m expected to work with him as if none of it happened.A young woman intercepts me the moment I step into the building. She’s bright-eyed and enthusiastic, looking a few years younger than me.“You must be Miss Carrington,” she says, offering a cheerful smile. “I’m Ava. I’ve been assigned as your assistant.”I nod, shaking her hand. “Nice to meet you.”“It’s nice to meet you too.” Her eyes scan my hair with pure admiration. “I had been told I’d know you by the color of your hair. You have the most gorgeous hair.”I chuckle, feeling a little conscious as I pat down my natural aubu