Stephanie‘s POVThe kitchen is warm and filled with the faint, mouthwatering scent of garlic and rosemary. I stand at the counter, trying to slice a baguette without mangling it. Across from me, Henry is stirring something in a heavy pan, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms. His focus is intense, like he’s orchestrating some culinary masterpiece instead of making dinner.“Careful,” he says without looking up. “You’re holding the knife wrong.”I frown at the uneven slices I’ve already made. “I’ve been holding knives my whole life, thank you very much.”He glances at me, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not like that, you haven’t. Here—” He wipes his hands on a dishtowel and steps around the counter, standing just close enough that I catch a whiff of his cologne. Warm and woodsy, with an edge of something clean and sharp.Before I can protest, he reaches for my hand, adjusting my grip on the knife. His fingers are warm against mine, his touch firm but careful.“Li
Stephanie‘s POVThe next morning, I find Henry in his study. Sunlight streams through the tall windows, catching on the dark wood of his desk and the stacks of papers he’s sorting through. He’s pacing slowly, pen in hand, occasionally pausing to jot something down in a leather notebook. His focus is so intense that he doesn’t notice me until the floor creaks beneath my step.When he looks up, his expression shifts slightly. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—doubt, maybe curiosity.“What’s wrong?” he asks, his tone measured, even.I take a breath, steadying myself as I step into the room. “I wanted to ask you something.” My voice comes out firmer than I expect.Henry sets the pen down with a quiet clink, leaning one hand against the desk. “What is it?”“Echoview Media.” The words feel heavier spoken aloud, but I force myself to meet his gaze. “That report back then—was it you who arranged it?”For a moment, his face is unreadable. Then there’s the faintest flicker of hesitati
Stephanie‘s POVI spend the next several days thinking about this.Could I really fall in love with Henry?By Tuesday, the thought has so thoroughly rooted itself in my mind that I can’t think about anything else.Then, Henry allowed me to use one of the rooms as my studio. To say thanks, I asked if I could paint him.The space is perfect—spacious, filled with natural light, and stocked with everything an interior designer and artist could wish for. It’s more than I ever dreamed of, and yet, I haven’t touched a single brush today.Instead, I pace, my stomach twisted with nerves.I shouldn’t be nervous. I’m a professional. I’ve painted countless pieces, designed entire interiors for high-profile clients, and yet, the idea of painting Henry feels… different.Too intimate.Too personal.I have no idea why Henry agreed to this."Stephanie," Henry's voice cuts through my thoughts, smooth and easy. "You're overthinking."I look up to see him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watc
Stephanie‘s POVA week after our painting incident, and I still haven’t finished the damn piece. Every time I think about it, my blood runs hot and I can’t bring myself to ask Henry to sit for me again.So, I avoid him.Which is why it comes as a shock when he sits me down on Sunday evening and says, “I have good news to share with you.”Henry’s voice is calm, yet it carries a weight that immediately grabs my attention. “You’re free to use your designs now,” he says, leaning back in his chair as if he’s just made a casual observation about the weather.I freeze, my pen slipping from my fingers and clattering onto the desk. For a moment, I’m certain I’ve misheard him. “What?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.“Your designs,” he repeats, his tone steady but firm. “Vince’s company no longer holds the copyright. You can use them however you see fit.”The words take a moment to sink in, but when they do, a surge of disbelief and relief washes over me. “How? I mean… what did you do?”
Stephanie‘s POVA week later, Henry pulls up to the curb, the sleek car humming softly as it idles. I glance out the window, and my breath catches. The building he’s chosen for our studio is stunning—a mix of classic architecture with modern renovations. The large glass windows gleam in the afternoon sun, framed by stone pillars that exude sophistication.“It’s beautiful,” I say, unable to hide the awe in my voice. “You chose this?”Henry smirks as he steps out of the car. “Did you expect anything less?”I follow him, my heels clicking against the pavement as we approach the front entrance. “Honestly, I expected you to be more... practical,” I tease. “This feels indulgent.”He raises an eyebrow, holding the door open for me. “If you’re going to build the best interior design studio in the industry, you need a workspace that reflects that ambition. Practicality doesn’t inspire clients.”I nod, stepping inside. The interior is just as impressive. High ceilings, open spaces, and natural
Stephanie‘s POVWe return to the house in silence, the tension from earlier still crackling faintly in the air. Henry’s arm brushes against mine as he pushes open the door, and I can’t help but notice how his jaw tightens when he moves.“You’re hurt worse than you let on,” I say, my voice soft but firm as I follow him inside.He shrugs, feigning indifference. “It’s nothing serious. I’ve had worse.”I roll my eyes, grabbing his arm to stop him from retreating to his study. “You’re not invincible, Henry. Sit down and let me take a look.”For once, he doesn’t argue. Instead, he sighs and settles onto the edge of the couch. His shirt is torn near his shoulder, exposing a shallow but angry scrape. The faint smear of blood on his skin makes my stomach tighten.“I’ll grab the first-aid kit,” I say quickly, retreating to the bathroom to find it. My hands are steady as I gather supplies, but my heart feels like it’s hammering against my ribs.When I return, Henry is leaning back, one arm drape
Vince‘s POVThe office feels colder these days. Not physically—no, the temperature is the same—but there’s a void that lingers, making everything sharper, harsher. Stephanie’s absence hangs over the company like a shadow, and no matter how much I try to ignore it, the consequences are glaring.Darci has taken over Stephanie’s responsibilities, but things have not gone as smoothly as I’d hoped. Orders have fallen through, projects delayed, and long-term clients—ones Stephanie had nurtured with care and finesse—are slipping away. Darci insists she’s doing her best, but her best is nowhere near enough."Sir, I just got off the phone with McAllister & Co. They’re pulling out of the deal," my assistant says nervously, standing in the doorway with a tablet clutched to her chest.I rub my temples, irritation rising. "Another one. What was the excuse this time?""They said the new team wasn’t meeting their expectations." She hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. "They mentioned… they mentioned
Darci‘s POVI sit across from my father in his dimly lit study, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. The thick scent of his cigar smoke makes my stomach churn, but I don’t dare complain. His eyes bore into me, sharp and unyielding, and the weight of his displeasure presses down on my chest like a heavy stone.“So,” he says, his voice low and calculating, “you’re telling me that despite everything I’ve done to position you with Vince, you still haven’t locked him down properly?”I flinch, though I try not to let it show. My father’s words always cut deep, slicing through the façade of confidence I wear so carefully around everyone else. “I’ve been doing everything I can,” I say, keeping my tone measured. “Vince trusts me. He listens to me.”“Trusts you?” He snorts, leaning back in his leather chair. “If he trusted you, he wouldn’t be questioning your abilities. And don’t think I haven’t heard about the clients dropping left and right. They don’t think you’re competent, Darci. They thi
Stephanie’s POVThe ride back to the villa is silent. Henry’s hand remains on my back, a comforting weight, but my mind is a whirlwind. Darci’s theatrics, Vince’s blind acceptance, the sheer audacity of their deception – it all boils inside me. I stare out the window, the city lights blurring into streaks of color, mirroring the chaos in my thoughts.I didn't succeed in suing Darci, ultimately.Because Vince reminded me that the most crucial evidence has been destroyed, and that if I sue Darci at this point, there is a high probability that I won't get the result I want. Apparently he was trying to protect her.I know in my gut that he's right, I'm just not reconciled.“Are you alright?” Henry’s voice breaks through my reverie.I turn to him, forcing a small smile. “I will be. I’m just… disappointed.”He nods, understanding. “They underestimated you, Stephanie. And that’s their mistake.”A heavy sigh escapes my lips. “It’s not just about the project, Henry. It’s about the principle. T
Stephanie’s POVThe tension in the boardroom is suffocating. I can feel my pulse pounding in my ears as Vince and Darci stand across from me, their expressions unreadable. I grip the edge of the table, forcing myself to stay calm even as frustration burns beneath my skin.Darci’s smug smile lingers, and I know she thinks she’s already won. She believes she’s backed me into a corner, that I’ll be forced to relinquish the project and accept their fabricated allegations.Then the boardroom doors burst open.The room collectively turns toward the interruption, and my breath catches in my throat as Henry strides in, his presence commanding and unyielding. He moves with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning the room before landing on me.He’s holding a thick folder in his hand, and I recognize that look in his gaze—the one that says he’s here to end this charade.“I believe we have some unfinished business,” Henry says smoothly, stepping forward and dropping the folder onto the conference table.
Stephanie’s POVThe room is heavy with tension, the weight of accusation thick in the air. I finish speaking, and for a moment, Vince and Darci are speechless. But Darci quickly recovers, her voice laced with disbelief. "Stephanie, darling," she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm, "while we appreciate your efforts on this project, let's be honest. You're a talented designer, no doubt, but you're hardly a name that commands the attention of the Rush family. Surely you don't think you're on their level?"Vince smirks, adding, "Indeed. You're well-known in certain circles, but compared to the Rush empire, you're practically invisible. I'm quite curious, actually. How do you manage to convince them to even consider this collaboration? Do you perhaps... offer them a little something extra to persuade them?"Darci stands in the center, her perfectly manicured fingers curled around a stack of papers—evidence, she claims, of my betrayal. Her lips curl into a smirk as she slowly, deliberate
Stephanie’s POVI blink.My ears must be deceiving me.Of all the ridiculous accusations Vince and Darci could throw at me, this is what they chose?“WHat does that mean?” I say slowly, making sure my voice remains calm, level, even as something inside me boils.“You heard her,” Darci says, crossing her arms, smugness radiating off her like cheap perfume. “You used Vince’s company resources for that project, and now that it’s been conveniently handed off to the Henrys, the only explanation is that you leaked it.”I let out a sharp laugh, incredulous. “That’s the best you could come up with? That I somehow stole my own project?”Vince takes a deliberate step forward, his glare cutting through me like a sharpened blade. “It was never your project, Stephanie,” he snaps. “It belonged to my company. My company. Now you’re standing here, trying to play innocent while handing it over to Henry?”I bristle.“It was mine long before you decided to claim it,” I counter, meeting his fury with my
Stephanie’s POVI wake up feeling warm. Too warm.The weight draped across my waist is solid, steady, and unmistakably not a blanket.I freeze.My mind, still sluggish from sleep, struggles to make sense of the situation until reality crashes into me like a tidal wave.Henry.His arm is wrapped around me. His breath, slow and even, ghosts against the nape of my neck. His body, solid and firm, presses lightly against my back.I am in Henry’s arms. Oh my God.Every part of me screams to move, to slip out of his grasp before he wakes up and realizes what’s happening, but I’m completely paralyzed.How did this even happen? I fell asleep on my side of the bed. I made sure of it. I had kept my distance, kept to my side, and yet here I am, wrapped up in Henry like some lovesick fool.I feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, his deep, rhythmic breathing telling me that he’s still asleep.Thank God.I can fix this.Carefully, painstakingly carefully, I inch my body away from him. His arm ti
Stephanie’s POVThe bathroom door opens with a soft creak, releasing a wave of warm steam into the room. I glance up instinctively—and immediately wish I hadn’t.Henry stands before me, fresh from his shower, a towel slung casually around his waist. Droplets of water trail down his sculpted chest, following the ridges of defined muscles before disappearing beneath the towel’s edge. His dark hair is damp, strands clinging to his forehead, giving him an almost boyish look that is completely at odds with the sharp, imposing presence he usually carries.I swallow hard. I shouldn’t be looking. I am absolutely looking.A blush creeps up my neck, and I tear my gaze away, desperate for a distraction.Henry seems entirely unbothered by my flustered state. He towels off his hair, acting as if it’s completely normal for us to be sharing a room—sharing a bed—as if this is just another business arrangement and nothing more.“You’re staring,” he says without looking at me, amusement clear in his vo
Stephanie’s POVI pace the room, arms crossed over my chest, still grappling with the reality of our situation. Sharing a bed with Henry was one thing, but knowing that Joseph would undoubtedly be keeping a close watch on our relationship? That was a whole new level of pressure.I bite my lip, glancing toward Henry, who seems completely at ease as he reviews some notes about our upcoming project.“You know your grandfather is going to be watching us, right?” I finally say, breaking the silence. “I mean, really watching us.”Henry doesn’t even look up. “Of course.”I narrow my eyes. How is he so calm about this?“Doesn’t that bother you?” I press.Now, he does glance up, one brow lifting in mild amusement. “Why would it?”I throw my hands up. “Because it’s weird! He wants to make sure you’re happy, and he’s obviously skeptical of me. What if I mess up; what if he realizes this is all fake?”Henry sets his papers aside and leans back in his chair, arms folding over his chest. “Stephanie
Stephanie’s POVRobert doesn’t even hesitate.“No.” His tone is absolute, sharp, like a gavel hitting a courtroom desk. There is no room for negotiation in his voice, and yet, I don’t falter.I expected this. I anticipated this level of resistance.So, I smile.Not sweetly, but coldly, calculated, like a chess player making their next move.“That’s unfortunate,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “I was really hoping we could work something out amicably.”His expression remains unreadable, but his eyes narrow slightly. He doesn’t trust me.Good.I tilt my head, my voice softer now, but laced with a quiet threat. “If you’re really refusing… well, I guess I’ll have no choice but to go public.”A pin-drop silence follows.Henry, seated beside me, remains still, though I sense his amusement. His fingers tap lightly against his knee, as though waiting for the inevitable outcome.“You wouldn’t,” Claire sneers, her nails digging into the fabric of the chair.I smile wider. “Oh, guess.”I lean
Stephanie‘s POVI think I have finally escaped Ryan’s harassment. But just when I think I can breathe again, that same, revolting touch resurfaces.My heart races, and every inch of my body screams in protest.I can't take it anymore. I’m done.I don’t hesitate.With calculated force, I bring my heel down on Ryan’s foot, pressing down hard enough to make sure he feels it.He lets out a choked yelp, his whole body jerking in pain. The room goes silent.All eyes turn toward us. Henry, seated beside me, tenses immediately, his sharp gaze flicking between me and his brother.“What’s wrong?” their mother demands, her voice clipped with irritation.Ryan grits his teeth, schooling his face into something more composed, though I see the flicker of anger in his eyes. “It’s nothing,” he mutters, but when Claire glares at him, he quickly adds, “Stephanie… came onto me.”A heavy silence blankets the room.I blink, stunned for a moment at the sheer audacity of his lie.Ryan exhales sharply, wincin