Dwight’s POVThe moment I step into my office, Jordan is already waiting, his sharp blue eyes meeting mine. He’s standing near the windows, phone in hand, but his posture tells me he’s been expecting me.“They’re all gathered in the main conference room,” he says. “Waiting for you.”I nod, slipping off my coat and tossing it over the chair. “Let’s go.”We move down the hallway, the quiet click of our shoes echoing through the otherwise silent space. Ahead, the executive conference room looms, its glass doors revealing the tense figures inside. The department heads—all seasoned, all competent, all waiting for the decision that could change the course of their teams.The second I step inside, conversations hush. Eyes flick toward me, some wary, others resigned.I close the door behind me and take my seat at the head of the table.“Let’s begin,” I say, my voice cutting through the silence.Jordan takes his seat to my right, flipping open his tablet. “As you’re all aware, two of our major
(Dwight’s POV)The moment the conference room doors shut behind me, I let out a slow breath. The tension from the meeting still lingers in my muscles, a dull, pressing weight that refuses to ease. The measures we settled on were the best possible outcome given the circumstances, but it doesn’t make the decisions any less difficult. People’s lives will be affected, and the responsibility sits squarely on my shoulders.Jordan walks beside me as we head back to my office. He’s silent, but I know him well enough to recognize when he’s studying me. The slight furrow in his brows, the way his fingers drum lightly against his tablet—he’s waiting for the right moment to say something.As soon as we step into my office, I shrug off my suit jacket and drape it over the back of my chair. Jordan closes the door behind him but doesn’t take a seat. Instead, he leans against the edge of my desk, arms crossed over his chest.“You look like hell,” he says.I arch a brow. “And here I thought you called
Leah’s POVGolden morning light filters through the sheer curtains, casting soft, shifting patterns across the bed. The distant hum of waves reaches my ears, a steady rhythm against the stillness of my hotel room. I blink slowly, letting the warmth of the sun pull me into wakefulness.For a moment, I forget everything—the weight of the past, the storm of emotions Dwight stirred back into existence.But the moment is fleeting. Reality presses at the edges of my mind, creeping closer with every breath. I refuse to let it in.Not today.Stretching, I push back the covers and pad toward the balcony. The air is warm, tinged with salt and the faint, citrusy scent of the trees below. The sea stretches out in the distance, a perfect shade of blue under the early light. The streets hum with life—laughter, footsteps, the occasional ring of a bicycle bell.This is what I came here for.I deserve this.The thought steadies me. Anchors me.Breakfast. That’s a start. Something simple. Something nor
Leah’s POVAfter breakfast, I leave Mateo to his books and make my way through the narrow streets, allowing myself to soak in the warmth of the sun, the scent of fresh pastries, and the distant murmur of waves. Athens feels alive in a way that grounds me—steady, unbothered, unburdened by the past.I pause at a small shop with a glass display of handcrafted jewelry. Gold and silver pieces glint under the morning light, delicate chains adorned with tiny charms, rings inlaid with sea glass. The artistry is remarkable, each piece telling a story.A woman behind the counter catches my eye. She’s older, with graying curls pinned up in a messy twist. Her smile is kind.“Beautiful, aren’t they?” she says, her voice lightly accented.I nod, fingers ghosting over the glass. “They are.”She picks up a necklace, a fine gold chain with a small pendant—a pearl encased in an intricate sunburst design. “This one is a favorite. The pearl represents wisdom gained through experience, and the sun…” She g
Leah’s POVAthens has this pulse to it—a rhythm that doesn’t try to be anything other than what it is, ancient yet modern, loud yet quiet. I find a street vendor selling fruit, the rich smell of ripe peaches nearly overwhelming. I pause to pick one up, its skin warm and fuzzy against my fingers, and take a bite. The sweetness bursts in my mouth, so different from the dry, overripe ones I’ve had at home.I smile to myself, feeling the weight of Judith’s call still tugging at me. My father wants to talk. Wants me to come back. Wants me to pick up the pieces of my old life and return to the routine I left behind—the one that feels like it’s been waiting for me, frozen in time. But I know I can’t stay here forever. I’ve had my escape, but now it’s time to go back.I’m not a quitter. I made a promise, and I intend to keep it.My phone buzzes in my bag, but I ignore it. Instead, I let myself focus on the soft chatter of a nearby café, the clicking of a bicycle wheel, the way the sun feels o
Leah’s POVMorning finds me before I’m ready for it.Sunlight spills across the cool marble floor of my hotel room, pouring through gauzy white curtains that sway just slightly in the sea breeze. The hum of Athens rises gently beneath me—a quiet prelude to the day. I don’t move at first. I let myself drift in that fragile space between sleep and waking, where nothing yet demands anything of me.The sheets are tangled around my legs, soft and warm with the imprint of the night. I stare at the ceiling, memorizing the delicate crown molding, the way light moves along it, slowly brightening the corners. My limbs feel heavy, not from exhaustion, but from something quieter. Something deeper. Like the weight of a goodbye I haven’t yet said out loud.Athens hums beneath me—faint, familiar now. The soft whirr of scooters as they zip along uneven streets, the distant clink of cutlery from cafés setting up their terraces, and the occasional bark of a dog from somewhere far below. The air carries
Leah’s POVNew York greets me with a sigh.It’s a different kind of morning here—louder, steel-edged. The air bites with the scent of exhaust and something vaguely metallic, like the city’s been grinding its teeth all night. There’s no sea breeze. No citrus trees. No Acropolis glowing in the distance. Just buildings. Tall, grey, and unsentimental. Just like the people streaming past me as I wheel my suitcase across the terminal floor at JFK. I should feel relieved to be back. This is familiar. Structured. It’s the life I know. But as I slide into the back seat of the town car Dad sent, I feel like a guest in my own city.Judith had insisted that I send over my travel details. She had reiterated that father needed them. Right before I'd boarded, she'd informed me that a town car was going to wait for me. Father had always been protective. It wasn't new. When I was in High School, he had never allowed me to return home on foot, or use the school bus like my friends did. Heck, at 16,
Leah's POVThe coffee shop on Spring hasn’t changed. Still too cold, still too loud. The walls are still cluttered with vintage postcards no one reads, secondhand books no one touches, and a playlist that feels like someone’s breakup soundtrack stuck on loop.It feels weird walking in, suitcase still at my heel, fresh from the cab. Like I never left. Like the city’s been waiting with its usual indifference.And then I see it—our booth. Mine and Cece’s. Empty, like it’s been saving me a seat all this time.She’s already there, naturally. Halfway through a cinnamon roll that could be classified as architectural, waving me over like I’ve committed some great betrayal by arriving late.“About time,” she says, grinning wide as she slides my Americano across the table like it’s holy.I drop my bag with a soft thud and sink into the seat across from her. “Miss me that much?”“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “I was two seconds away from calling your dad to report a kidnapping.”I snort. “He woul
Dwight's POVIt was dark out. Leah lay half-sprawled across my chest, the silky strands of her hair tickling my skin. Our clothes were scattered haphazardly across the room, abandoned in our urgency. The heavy rug under us cushioned our bodies, still slick and languid from the intensity of our lovemaking. I still couldn't believe the feelings that coursed through me as I'd made love to her. It was better than all the times I had allowed myself to imagine... to fantasize.It had been pure magic. Messy, but perfect. And having her here in my arms filled me with the duty of contentment that had been missing for three years. I could have stayed like that forever. Her breath warm against my skin. Her heart beating in slow, contented rhythms against mine. Her fingers moved idly over my chest, tracing lazy patterns. Every touch sent aftershocks through my nerves, subtle reminders of how close we had just been, how perfect she felt wrapped around me...And then her fingers stilled. She brushe
Dwight's POV The clock on the wall ticked mockingly at me, but I barely noticed it anymore.I sat behind my desk, staring at the documents spread out before me, but none of the words made it past the thick wall of energy thrumming in my veins. It was all background noise. Filler. Nothing compared to the singular, burning thought anchoring me:Leah.Home. Waiting for me.The thought wrapped itself around every nerve ending, making it almost impossible to sit still. I knew it wouldn’t last—this arrangement was temporary. But even knowing that, I couldn't stop the anticipation that practically vibrated in my blood. The pull toward her was too strong, too fierce to deny.I remembered the kiss we shared. God, I remembered every detail. The tentative way I had brushed my mouth against hers. The way she had frozen for a breathless second before melting against me, kissing me back like it was the only thing keeping her alive. That kiss had shattered something inside me. It wasn
Leah’s POVAfter Ava left, the house felt much bigger.Much quieter.And somehow, even though I knew I was safe, the silence made me feel small.I sprawled on the plush sofa in the sunken living room, laptop abandoned beside me, staring out at the endless stretch of green beyond the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The afternoon sun slanted in golden beams across the polished floors, painting everything in warm, sleepy light.I could still hear Ava’s cheerful goodbye ringing in my ears."Call me if you need anything, okay?"I had promised I would. But really, there was nothing Ava—or anyone—could do for me now.I needed time. Space.Maybe even forgiveness.The soft shuffle of footsteps pulled me out of my thoughts. I sat up just as the house chef—a kind-eyed woman named Marla—approached, wiping her hands on a white apron."Miss Carrington," she said with a polite nod, "would you like anything for lunch? I made a chicken and asparagus salad. Fresh bread too."My stomach gave an unexpe
Ethan's POVI didn’t sleep the night before. Couldn’t. My mind wouldn’t stop racing with thoughts of Leah. Where she was. Who she was with. If she was safe—or worse, in someone else’s bed. The very idea made my skin crawl. She belonged to me. Always had.I’d paid good money to get Dwight’s address—hired hackers who knew how to worm through firewalls, dig into secure property records. Took a few days, but one of them cracked it. The smug bastard even had the nerve to ask if I wanted crypto updates on any other targets. I told him to keep his damn crypto and send me the damn location.The moment I had it, I booked a hotel overlooking the private road that led to Dwight’s house. Fancy little setup—secluded, discreet, and completely insulated. Except from me.From the hotel window, I had a clear view of the narrow road that led to the gate. No sign of Leah. But I’d seen Dwight drive out earlier. His car was tinted, of course. Bastard probably thought he was untouchable in that glassy fort
Leah's POVAva arrived a little after ten, a paper bag swinging in her arm, her oversized sunglasses perched on her nose like she owned the world.“I brought croissants,” she announced, kicking off her shoes the minute she stepped in.I was already seated on the couch in Dwight’s minimalist living room, my laptop open and a mug of chamomile tea cooling beside me. The events of the night before still shimmered around me like mist I couldn’t shake off. That kiss from this morning. The feeling of his mouth on mine. The way my body had leaned into him like it remembered every inch of his touch.But I shoved the thoughts aside and forced a smile.“Thank God. I was starting to feel faint.”“Dramatic much?” Ava chuckled and flopped down beside me. She was more carefree here... more herself. “So, you’re really working from home today? What’s going on? You, sick?”I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. A little under the weather. Just didn’t feel up to going in.”Ava didn’t question it. That was the
Leah’s POVI woke up to sunlight streaming in through unfamiliar blinds. For a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was—until the memory of the night before came crashing back like waves against a jagged shore.The guest room.Dwight’s house.The black sedan parked outside my penthouse window.Calling him in a moment of panic.And him showing up—like some kind of storm-worn knight—eyes blazing, arms steady, voice calm while I all but fell apart.I turned in bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to process everything. The feeling of safety in this room was real, almost too real—like I might wake up again in my own bed and find it was all a dream. But this wasn’t a dream. I was really here, in Dwight’s home. The man I once loved, the man I had planned to marry, the man who’d disappeared from my life and somehow returned in the most unexpected way.And last night… God. I buried my face in the pillow as the memory of him stepping into the room, finding me in nothing but matching silky pants and
Ethan’s POVI had waited long enough.The thug hadn’t needed to say anything more after confirming she’d been at Glimmr all day. I knew. Of course I knew. It wasn’t about the damn jewelry company—it never was. That place belonged to Dwight Spencer, not Jordan. Jordan was a poser, a face, a pawn. Dwight was the real deal. And Leah had run straight into his arms the moment I slipped up. The moment she thought I was no longer good enough.So I sat in the black sedan I’d taken off the thug—an unremarkable thing, dull paint and barely legal tints—and I watched. Parked just across from Leah’s high-rise penthouse, angled perfectly toward her bedroom window, I waited like a man starved. The plan had been simple: wait until she fell asleep, sneak in, take her away.She was mine. Leah was always mine. Her heart, her body, her damn smile—I’d built my whole world around her. And she threw it all away. For what? For a man who disappeared for years and then reappeared with money and power?The thou
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN Leah’s POVI stood in the middle of the guest room, my fingers idly grazing the edge of the dresser, trying to take it all in. The place didn’t feel real—at least not in the sense that it belonged to someone I used to love. It was too modern, too polished. A sleek contrast to the chaotic mess my mind had become.Dwight had shown me around with the precision of someone trying not to linger too long. The kitchen, the alarm system, the espresso machine I’d probably never use, and then the guest room—with fresh linens and my favorite scent diffused lightly into the air like he’d somehow known I’d be here tonight.I was alone now. The soft sound of his retreating footsteps had long faded down the hall. But the space still felt charged, like something invisible tethered us together. I exhaled slowly and glanced around again. The room was beautiful. Minimalistic yet warm. Soft beiges and greys. A plush area rug. It felt like him. It also felt safe. And that al
Dwight's POVThe moment I hang up Leah’s call, I’m already halfway out the door.I don’t think. I just move.The city blurs past as I tear through the streets like a man possessed. I don't care how many traffic laws I break or how many horns blare at me in protest. Leah is scared—and for good reason. And I'm not going to waste another damn second.I should’ve pushed harder today at the office. I knew something was wrong. The way she sat through that meeting, eyes vacant, her usual fire smothered under whatever weight she was carrying. I told myself to keep my distance, told myself it wasn’t my place anymore after she insisted she was fine.Maybe I was just a stupid coward who was afraid of digging deeper.And now here I am, racing through the night because a car was parked too long outside her window and she’s scared out of her mind.The last time this happened, it was me being hunted. Stalked. Dragged into the dark.And now they’ve moved on to her.I clench my jaw so tight it aches.