Brielle's POV. Just as my tears are about to spill, I catch a flicker of something in Andrei's eyes- a struggle. His voice is low, strained, like he's forcing the words out, “My apologies if my words caused you any distress. If leaving is what you truly desire, then by all means, please feel free to walk away." Andrei's "apology" is nothing short of infuriating. He speaks as if he's doing me a favor, offering me the gracious opportunity to leave. It's like he's treating this breakup like a casual conversation, not the unraveling of a relationship that I thought was solid. And I'm trying so hard to mask my pain, but His words really cut deep — the idea that he thinks I only care about his money is just really difficult to deal with. I'm literally dying inside right now. How could they all think that? I never cared about the money. It wasn't even on my radar. But Mom thinks I'm some kind of money-grubbing opportunist, and now even Andrei… Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm just a cha
Brielle's POV The autumn wind howls outside, but it's nothing compared to the ache within me… “Honey, here's a blanket,” Mom whispers, as she wraps the soft material around my shoulders. I accept it gratefully and pull it blanket tight around me, tucking my hands into its folds to stave off the chill. “You're not getting off the hook that easy, Brielle, If you don't eat, I won't either. We're in this together, you and me. You're not gonna starve yourself while I sit here eating a sandwich.” The food on the table stares back at me, “I'm not hungry, Mom,” I insist, my voice brittle. "I couldn't eat even if I tried." Mom's face crumples a little, her eyes speaking the words her lips won't. “Bri, I know this is hard. How long are you gonna keep crying over this? It's been two days since you got back home, and you haven't stopped,” her hands are gentle as she wipes the tears from my cheeks. "Did Andrei break your heart, or did he stomp on it?" I shake my head, "It's not lik
Andrei's POV. For so long, I've wanted to do this. I've fantasized about it, daydreamed about it. And now, finally, it's happening. One punch, that's all it's gonna take. One swift, sweet punch to wipe the smugness off Liam's face for good.He's got this air about him, this arrogance that's just begging to be shattered. And I'm the one who's gonna do it. I'm gonna knock him off that pedestal he's been sitting on for far too long. The policemen are clueless, and I seize the moment. I cock my fist back, and throw a hard one, fueled by months of bottled-up frustration, months of gritting my teeth and playing nice. Now, finally, I get to let it all out. And I'm far from done. I cock my arm back, ready to unleash another brutal blow, but the cops intervene just in time, pulling me off Liam. I'm prepared to face the music. A fine, a slap on the wrist — it's a small price to pay for taking care of Liam. I'd do it again in a second. They toss him into the back seat of the squad car, a
Brielle's POV The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafts through the air as I enter the kitchen. Mom's setting out our favorite breakfast dishes, and I spot the special mug she only uses on holidays. “Good morning, sleepyhead… Honey, did you apply for that job at Cartridge Corp? Your dad mentioned they were looking for someone with your skills.” I drop into my chair, still shaking off the sleepies, and grab a glass of orange juice. As I take a sip, the tartness helps snap me out of my morning funk. As for the job at Cartridge Corp, I hesitate, unsure of how to respond. I had been putting off applying, unsure if I was ready to dive back into the workforce. But with Dad mentioning it, I know I'll have to face the question eventually. “I…I was thinking about it, Mom,” I say, attempting to sound more… decisive than I feel. “I just need to update my resume and cover letter, and then I'll submit my application.” “That's great, sweetie! I know you'll do fantastic. You
Brielle's POV. Those dazzling, pearly whites own me, every single time. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and I swear, it's like he has me under a spell. He's rocking that custom-made suit, every move screams confidence, And those legs? Lord have mercy, They're long, muscular, utterly captivating. And then there’s the way he touches his earpiece, so casual, so smooth. Like he’s orchestrating something big, something important. He tilts his head slightly, that familiar intensity in his eyes… 'Ms. Monroe.' The words echo, over and over, each one wrapped in that low, velvet tone I know so well. Andrei’s voice, It's like butter for my soul, melting me into a puddle of desire. 'Mr. Carter.' His name tumble out of my mouth, unbidden, but oh-so-welcome, like I’m part of this moment with him—like we’re connected in some strange, unspoken way. I don’t understand what’s happening, but I don’t want it to stop. I feel anchored and weightless all at once, But then the scene starts to unrav
Brielle's POV. A quick glance at my watch confirms my worst fears: 45 minutes late. Not exactly the impression I wanted to make. I leap out of the taxi, already behind schedule. My heels feel like they're slowing me down, but I pick up the pace, dashing through the revolving doors and into the lobby. The reception desk is manned by a gorgeous young woman with jet-black hair, who looks up at me with a sweet, welcoming smile. I feel a sudden pang of self-consciousness as I approach her. “Ms. Monroe, welcome.” she says, her gray eyes sparkling. I nod, wondering how she knew my name. Then I remember — my ID, which I used to apply for the job. “Thank you,” I reply, a faint blush rising to my cheeks. “We've been expecting you, and you arrived right on time… almost,” she teases, “Welcome to Cartridge Industries. We're glad to have you on board, and you're running a bit behind. The boss is expecting you in three minutes. Can it have your ID, please.? “Of course, I'm so sorry,” I apol
Brielle's POV “Don’t worry, I won’t bite… hard, Ms Monroe. Help yourself to a drink and take a deep breath,” he says, and I can almost picture the smirk on his face. “Not nervous, just caffeinated,” I quip, trying to mask my nerves with humor. “Thanks for having, me Sir. This office is… incredible." “Let's get down to business, shall we? Unless you'd like a few more minutes…" I take another breath, trying to steady my nerves, and respond, “No, I'm ready when you are, sir.” A quick seat-adjustment later, I'm ready to face… well, whatever this meeting throws my way. Although I'm starting to feel like a lab rat in some kind of bizarre experiment. The CEO is watching me from who-knows-where, his face hidden behind a veil of secrecy. It's seriously freaking me out. And then there's his voice. It's like a sonic boom, shaking every molecule in the room. I can feel the vibrations humming through my fingertips, making my skin crawl. “Before we proceed, Ms. Monroe I'd, of course, lik
Brielle's POV Traffic—the ultimate nemesis. I spent a whole hour stuck in it, and I'm still fuming. I toss a few bucks at the taxi driver and slump out of the cab, letting out a dramatic sigh. The taxi speeds away, leaving me to trudge up to the front door. It's darker than I expected — a reminder that today was a 9-to-6 marathon, not the usual 9-to-5 grind. To complicate things further, I had to rewrite that ridiculous essay five times! Five! What's next? A pop quiz on the history of coffee? I stumble into the house, ready to collapse onto the nearest couch. But, of course, my family has other plans. Mom, Dad, and Ivy are standing in the living room, looking like they've been waiting for my arrival with bated breath. Mom's holding a tiny cake with a single candle on it. Really, Mom? A cake? I just got a job, not a Nobel Prize. I drop my purse on the table, take a deep breath, and make a wish that this job isn't as crazy as it seems. That the CEO isn't actually a robot sent
Andrei's POV. I'm heading towards my car at a rapid pace, my mind consumed by thoughts of what could be happening. But when I try to call Paul, I'm met with an annoying busy signal. I hear Helen's frantic voice behind me, but I don't have time to reassure her. I rip open the driver's door and dive into the seat. My key jams into the ignition, and I crank the engine to life. Taking a moment to collect myself, I turn to Helen… “Keep Alexis indoors, lock every door, every window. Don't open them for anyone. Not a neighbor, not a delivery guy, not even a cop. No one. You're the only one I trust to keep him safe. I'll be back as soon as I can." Helen's subtle nod is enough. I floor it, racing away from the Carter estate. It's Jeremy. I'm certain of it. He's the only one twisted enough to pull a stunt like this. I slam the pedal to the floor, racing towards Brielle's apartment with a gut full of rage. What's his twisted motive for snatching her because I know it's him – the sick
Andrei's POV “I need you to wrap things up, Paul. Adjourn the meeting until tomorrow evening. I'm slammed right now. Get out of the office and go pick up Brielle — it's almost 7 pm,” I tell him over the phone, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. This guy can be a bit of a space cadet sometimes. I swear, I told him to leave the office early and pick Brielle up on time. What's going through that head of his? He's still rambling on, saying something about how he thought I was going to pick up Brielle myself. But honestly, I don't have time for this conversation. I'm not in the mood to argue, and even on a normal day, I wouldn't hesitate to debate him until I proved my point. I suck in a deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill my lungs. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers is nice and all, but I'm not exactly here to stop and smell the roses. My mind's preoccupied with one person: Brielle. The woman who's been on my mind 24/7, and who I'm about to put
Brielle's POV I take a deep breath, my heart still racing, but he looks more concerned than angry. He calmly rolls up his sleeves, slip off his shoes and pads silently over to the window. He pushes it open, and a rush of cool air sweeps in, carrying the scent of the night with it. I breathe deeply, feeling the freshness fill my lungs, and suddenly, I'm alive again. Returning, he takes my hand gently, his fingers locking into place with a tender yet thrilling pressure. My heart begins to flutter, and a wave of excitement washes over me as he escorts me to the bathroom. He towers over me, his eyes locked on mine, and carefully begins to unbutton my T-shirt. He slips the shirt off my body, his fingers grazing my skin, and tosses it aside, Warmth spread through my core, settling in the sensitive area between my legs. My heartbeat quickens, and my veins thrum with anticipation, He selects a plush towel from the heated rail, dips it in warm water, and gently wrings it out. The sof
Brielle's POV Just as I'm about to toss back another shot, he swoops in and snatches the glass right out of my hand. I'm caught off guard, and my eyes widen in surprise. I'm left standing there, feeling a little silly and a lot relieved… “I believe we've concluded our meeting. Now, how about I make sure you get home safely?” I wave my hand dramatically, nearly losing my balance. “Oh no, no, no! The meeting's just getting to the good part.” I declare, my words slurring slightly. I point a wobbly finger at him. He's still gazing at me with an infuriatingly calm expression. Meanwhile, I'm over here, dying from embarrassment and struggling to stay upright as the room spins like a crazy top., I'm pretty sure I'm going to need a map to find my dignity tomorrow morning… I push myself up from the bar stool, but my legs have other plans. I stumble, and my face heats up with embarrassment. Note to self: being bold and fearless is way easier in theory. Right now, my main priority is no
Brielle's POV. Aurum - where the rich and powerful come to eat like kings and queens while pretending to discuss business. I've heard the food is divine, the service impeccable, and the ambiance… well, let's just say it's the perfect place to make a statement. Or, in my case, to lure out a certain elusive CEO. The exterior is sleek and modern, all glass and steel, while the interior is warm and inviting, with rich wood accents and crisp white linens. My heart's racing, and I'm obsessively checking the clock. II've been flirting with a staff employee to get a rise out of my boss don't judge me, it was a desperate plan and now the moment of truth is finally here. Will my mystery boss step out of the shadows and reveal his face? And, more importantly, will he be the ridiculously handsome and infuriating Andrei Carter? I'm 99.9% sure it's him… Only Andrei could throw me under the bus like that, and I just can't fathom why he's been hiding. I'm bursting to see him, to fi
Brielle's POV I'm deep in thought, pondering the mystery that is Jeremy, when the speakers starts blaring and scares the daylights out of me, “Aren't you going to get down to work? Or are you just going to continue perfecting the art of doing nothing.” Okay, Mr. Carter, I think it's time to level up from 'Mysterious Voice' to 'Actual Human Being'. With renewed interest, I sit up straight. “Sir, I'd appreciate the opportunity to meet you face-to-face. Is that something we could arrange?” “A meeting in person is… not possible, Brielle. At least, not at this time. Let's just say that my… situation requires a certain level of discretion. But I assure you, our working relationship will continue to be… productive." “Of course, I can respect your desire for anonymity. But, if you don't mind me asking, what's the harm in a simple introduction? I'm curious to see if the rest of you lives up to the charm of your voice.” “Really?” he says, his tone as neutral, but with a hint of mischi
Brielle's POV Ivy rubs her fingers on her temple, “I swear, Brielle, you're going to give me gray hairs. What were you thinking, not telling me about… Not telling me about everything?!” I shoot her a frantic glance, willing her to keep quiet. But it's too late. Mom's already descending the staircase, a curious expression on her face. “What's going on? You two look like you're sharing a state secret,” Seriously, Mom? Now? “It's really nothing. Ivy and I were just talking about, you know, stuff.” I wave my hands dismissively, hoping Mom will drop it, but she's not buying it." “Stuff?” she echoes, arching an eyebrow skeptically, “Well, 'stuff' seems to have gotten you two pretty worked up. Care to share what's got you so whisper-happy? Wait a minute, Brielle,” Mom eyes narrow as she notices my outfit. “Aren't those the clothes you wore to work today? What have you two been up to that you haven't even had time to change?” I shift uncomfortably, trying to find a way to explain wi
Brielle's POV It's another Monday, and time seems to have gone into overdrive. It's as if someone hit the fast-forward button on my life, and I'm racing through days at breakneck speed. I step out of the car, my eyes adjusting to the bright morning light, when suddenly, I'm met with a sight so surreal that I rub my eyes, convinced I'm still dreaming. There, emblazoned across the glass walls of CCI, is a vivid, technicolor rendition of the portrait of me. It's me, frozen in time, my features heightened by the vivid pigments splashed across the canvas. My jaw drops in shock as I stare, mesmerized, at the larger-than-life image of myself. Stunned, I take a few hesitant steps towards the building, my heart thudding against my chest. It's like déjà vu all over again, except this time, the portrait is staring back at me with an intensity that makes me want to shrink back into the shadows. Once inside the lobby of the office building I find myself scrutinizing the faces of those
Brielle's POV The doorbell's shrill ring cuts through the silence of the house, and Mom pops her head out of the kitchen. “Brielle, can you get the door please?” I'm right in the middle of crushing this project. My fingers grip the mouse like it's a lifeline, but I know I'm beat. Mom's expectant gaze is practically burning a hole through the wall. With a dramatic sigh, I push my chair back, and trudge towards the door. Whoever is on the other side better be worth it. The doorbell rings again, and I'm already halfway to the door. “Brielle!” “Got it, Mom!” I holler back, trying to save her the trouble of wiping her flour-covered hands on her apron. She's been cooking up a storm in the kitchen all morning, and I've been busy with work. I swing open the door, and my eyes land on a gentle-looking man standing on our porch. He's dressed in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans, and his warm smile puts me at ease. But what really catches my attention is the bouquet of sunflowers in hi