Desiree and I are back in our hotel room. She collapses onto the bed with a frustrated sigh, covering her eyes.“I guess our plans are ruined,” she says.“What plans?”She lowers her arm slightly, staring up at the ceiling. “We wanted to get her out of Mike's life. But she's still there, Caspian. We wanted to get her out of the company, and not only is she still there—she's now a board director. How did it get so out of hand?”I pace to the window, staring out at the view of the sea. “She’s blackmailing them,” I say.Desiree props herself up on her elbows, frowning. “I figured that much. So what are we going to do now?”Without replying, I pull out my phone and begin typing a message to Mike. He and I have unfinished business, and I won’t let him hide behind Mabel any longer. He’s got some explaining to do. ‘Meet me at the golf course in ten’, I write, then toss my phone back onto the nightstand.“I’ve already called my private investigator,” I say, turning back to Desiree. “Antonio w
I freeze, caught off guard. That was the last thing I expected."You want me to kick her out?" I ask, the words tasting bitter in my mouth.“Yes. That's the deal. You divorce her, just like you said you would.”I stare at him, trying to make sense of what he's saying. “You’re really going to use your ex-girlfriend as a bargaining chip, Mike? After everything she’s been through because of you?”He shrugs, taking another drag of his cigar. "It's not about her. It's about making sure you keep your word. If you're serious about getting rid of Mabel, I need to know you're not just playing games, keeping Desiree around for yourself."My anger flares, and I feel the heat rise in my chest. "I didn't raise you to be this petty," I say. "If this is your way of trying to manipulate me, you're walking a dangerous line."Mike’s expression doesn't change. He takes another slow puff of his cigar, the smoke curling up into the clear sky. “I'm just trying to protect myself, Dad. I can’t keep seeing he
Desiree's POVCaspian has been gone for a while now. I keep looking out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but all I see is the sea. I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.When he finally returns, he slams the door shut behind him. His eyes are on me.“Caspian,” I say. “Are you alright?”He doesn’t answer. He just keeps staring at me, his gaze burning with something I can’t quite read. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he bends down, removes his left shoe, and flings it aside. Then he takes off the right one with the same slowness, flinging it aside too.Before I can ask what’s going on, he’s on me—his lips crashing into mine with a force that steals my breath. It’s wild, desperate, like he’s trying to pour everything he’s feeling into the kiss.“Oh, my god,” I gasp, pulling back for air. “What’s gotten into you? You’re like a wild animal.”“I want you,” he growls, voice low and rough. He sweeps his arm across the dresser, sending everything tumbling to the f
He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes darken as he stares up at the ceiling. For a second, I wonder if he’ll brush it off, deflect with some sarcastic comment, or change the subject altogether. But then he looks at me—really looks at me—and I can see the weight he's carrying.“I saw Mike,” he says. “We had a conversation. Things got... heated.”I frown, trying to piece it together. “About what?”“It’s complicated. But let’s just say, everything feels like a fight now. I’m fighting Mabel, I’m fighting Mike, I’m fighting for what’s mine. And when I came back here... all I wanted was you. To feel grounded. To remind myself what’s real.”I tilt my head, watching him closely. The strength he usually carries in his posture seems worn, weighed down by whatever confrontation he’s just come from. It makes my heart ache. “I’m here,” I say, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I’m always here.”He leans into my touch, his eyes softening for a brief moment. “I know,” he whispers. “That’s why I can’t
Our first stop is a little shop selling the most colorful handmade trinkets. I pick up a tiny ceramic donkey painted bright reds and yellows. “Look at this! It’s adorable!”Caspian raises an eyebrow. “That thing is hideous.”“What?” I clutch the donkey to my chest. “This donkey has more personality than you.”“Sure, if you’re into things that look like they’ve been cursed by an ancient Greek god,” he says. I roll my eyes and place the donkey back on the shelf. “You have no taste.”“Correction—I have impeccable taste. That’s why I married you.”I smirk, trying to hide the blush creeping up my neck. “Flattery won’t save you.”We leave the shop, and Caspian leads us to a bustling open-air market, where vendors shout in Greek, offering everything from olives to handmade jewelry. We stop at a stall selling fresh seafood, and Caspian, with the confidence of someone who has no idea what he's doing, orders calamari in Greek. “Do you even know what you just asked for?” I ask, suppressing a g
My heart is beating fast. I lie frozen next to Caspian, staring wide-eyed at the chipped wall where the bullet hit. Before I can fully process the shock, I hear the screech of tires. I glance up, just in time to see a black-tinted car speeding off into the distance.“Caspian…” I breathe. “Who the hell just shot at us?”Caspian’s eyes are sharp and focused, scanning the area, his body still tense from the sudden danger. He doesn’t answer right away, too busy calculating, assessing. His face is like stone—determined, angry, but controlled.“Are you okay?” he finally asks, his voice low, brushing the hair from my face as he checks me for any sign of injury.“I’m fine,” I manage to say, though my hands are trembling. “But what the hell was that? Who’s after us?”He doesn’t respond at first, his gaze shifting to the road where the car vanished. “It could be anyone at this point,” he mutters under his breath. “Mabel. Someone else with a grudge. But whoever it was, they’re going to regret th
Caspian's POVIt's been two days since the attack, and even though we're back in New York, things still feel tense. My security team is on edge, guarding every inch of the house. But despite the extra protection, the weight of the situation hangs over us.Desiree paces by the window, arms crossed tightly. “Any word from Antonio yet?” she asks, sounding frustrated.I shake my head. “It usually takes time to investigate these things.”“Well, we don’t have time,” she says, turning to face me. “We’re practically chained to this house like prisoners.”She’s right. The apartment, usually a safe place, now feels more like a cage. Every noise outside, every shadow that moves, makes us both uneasy. I don’t blame her for wanting answers. I want them, too.As if on cue, my phone buzzes on the table. It’s Antonio.I answer quickly, putting the call on speaker so Desiree can hear. “What have you got for me?”“Boss,” Antonio says, “I’ve got some information about the hit-and-run. The other thing wi
I chase after her, heart pounding. I run into the bathroom just in time to see Desiree hunched over the toilet, her head buried as she pukes her guts out. The sound makes my stomach turn, but it's the sight of her—so fragile, so vulnerable—that really shakes me.“Cherry, are you okay?” I ask. I kneel beside her, one hand gently rubbing her back in circles.She waves a hand weakly, barely looking up. “Give me a minute,” she croaks, her voice hoarse and strained. “It’s just... something I ate.”But I don’t buy it. Not for a second.“Do you want me to call someone? A doctor?”“No, no,” she says, dragging herself up to the sink. She bends over and rinses her mouth. “I’m fine. Just... give me a second.”I stand there, watching, helpless as she splashes cold water on her face. Her breath is ragged, and every second feels like a lifetime.When she finally turns around to face me, her face is flushed, eyes watery, and she looks utterly drained. I can't take it anymore.“Fuck it,” I say, stan
I nod, my throat tight. “You better be.” The doors to the delivery room swing open, and suddenly, I’m surrounded by bright lights, the sterile smell of antiseptic, and the calm, authoritative voices of nurses. My mind is racing. My body, however, is focused on one thing: the relentless, excruciating contractions that feel like my insides are being wrung out like a soaked towel. “Breathe, Desiree. You’ve got this,” a nurse says, guiding me onto the bed. Caspian bursts through the door moments later, his hair disheveled, his suit jacket gone, and his sleeves rolled up. He looks like a man ready for battle. And, honestly, that’s what this feels like. “I’m here,” he says, taking my hand again. His grip is warm, solid, a lifeline in this sea of chaos. I glare at him through the pain. “You did this to me.” He leans down, brushing a kiss against my sweaty forehead. “I know, baby. And you’re doing amazing.” “Amazing? I feel like I’m being ripped in half!” I shout, my voice cracking wit
~~Months later~~ My best friend, Jessica, decided to organise a baby shower for me. She rented a penthouse. I know Caspian's involved in this. Who else is paying for the penthouse? The penthouse is everything Jessica promised and more—sleek marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows with a panoramic view of the city, and enough floral arrangements to make a florist weep. There’s an extravagant dessert table with a towering cake. And, of course, the unmistakable Caspian touch—a champagne fountain. I take it all in, my eyes narrowing suspiciously as I glance at Jessica, who’s currently trying to pass off the event as “modest.” Modest my ass. “You’re sure this wasn’t Caspian’s idea?” Jessica flashes her most innocent smile, which is about as believable as a politician’s promise. “I mean, he may have helped. But you deserve this! Come on, Dee, when was the last time we celebrated you?” I snort, adjusting the sash draped across my belly that reads Mom-to-Be. “You mean besides the
Desiree's POVWe're at a press conference.Cameras flash like lights at a club, and the buzz of reporters fills the air like a swarm of relentless bees. I hate it. Every second of it. But I stand tall, my hand resting in Caspian’s, my knuckles white from the grip. He doesn’t seem fazed—his jaw set, his eyes gleaming. He’s in his element.Me? I’m a bundle of nerves hiding behind a tailored dress and a painted-on smile.The tension in the room is obvious. Every gaze is pinned on us, every microphone is pointed in our direction. There’s no escaping it.Caspian steps forward, adjusting the microphone. His presence is magnetic. Commanding. He could announce the end of the world, and people would believe it was for their own good.He clears his throat, and the room falls silent.“For weeks now, CypherEdge Dynamics has been under siege,” he begins. “An individual named Mabel Blackwood infiltrated our company. She blackmailed board members, manipulated shareholders, and attempted to undermine
“Mr. Hart,” Aaron’s voice oozes through the line, smug and infuriating. “I trust you’ve been thinking about my offer.”“More like thinking about how to kill you,” I mutter under my breath, then louder: “I’ve considered it. But I need proof Desiree is alive. Now.”A pause. Then, Desiree’s voice, faint but there. “Caspian, please…”It takes everything in me not to lose it. “I’m here, Desiree. Hold on.”Aaron returns. “Satisfied?”“Barely,” I say. “You’ll get what you want. But not a second before I see her safe.”“Fine,” Aaron agrees. “Bring the drives to the location we’ll send you. Alone. And no tricks, Hart. Or she dies.”The line goes dead.Antonio is already moving, giving quick commands into his headset. “They’ll never see us coming,” he promises.I grip the phone. “They’d better not.”Because if they do, I’ll burn the entire city down before I let them take her away from me.---I park a block away from the designated warehouse, my pulse thudding in my ears. I sit there for a mom
The tone sends a chill down my spine. Calm, too calm, like this is a business deal and not—“Where is she?” I say. “If you’ve touched her—”“Tsk, tsk,” the man interrupts, almost amused. “Let’s not start with threats. You’re not in a position to make them.”I grip the phone tighter, my knuckles white. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”“Don’t I? Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Hart. Ruthless. Powerful. But none of that matters here.”My free hand balls into a fist at my side. “What do you want?”Finally, he gets to the point. “You’re going to deliver something to me. Two things, actually. First, the drives you took from Mabel’s mother’s house.”My mind races. How does he know about those?“And second,” he continues, “your shares in the company. Sign them over. All of them.”I laugh, sharp and humorless. “You think I’ll just hand those over? Do you know what they’re worth?”“Oh, I know exactly what they’re worth.” His voice drops. “I also know what she’s worth to you.”The a
Caspian's POVIt’s been over two hours since Desiree disappeared, and the hospital has called the police against my wishes.I’m pacing the waiting room like a caged animal, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead doing nothing to quell the pounding in my skull. Every passing second feels like an eternity, a loud and unrelenting reminder that she’s not here, that I don’t know where she is, that I failed to protect her.“Mr. Hart,” one of the officers starts, her voice too calm, too measured, like she’s asking about a lost cat. “Let’s go over this again. You’re sure your wife didn’t… leave voluntarily?”My fist clenches so hard my knuckles crack. I whip around, staring at her like she’s grown a second head.“Voluntarily?” The word leaves my mouth dripping with venom. “You think she just decided to disappear in the middle of a goddamn ultrasound?”The other officer, a man with a face so nondescript I could forget it in seconds, clears his throat. “We’re just trying to establish all possi
Desiree’s POVI wake up feeling like my head has been split in two.Pain radiates from the back of my skull, throbbing with every heartbeat. My mouth feels like I’ve swallowed sand, and the metallic tang of blood lingers on my tongue. I try to move, but my arms won’t budge. Cold metal digs into my wrists, and the sharp edge of panic slices through the fog clouding my mind.“Welcome back.”The voice is smooth, almost polite, but it sends a chill racing down my spine. I force my eyes open, blinking against the dim light until the blurry figure in front of me sharpens into focus.Aaron.He leans casually against a table, his arms crossed, a smug grin stretched across his face. He looks like a villain from one of those old spy movies—too polished, too composed, too damn pleased with himself.“What the hell,” I croak, my voice raspy. “What is this, amateur hour? I thought kidnappers were supposed to wear masks.”He chuckles, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring my sarcasm. “You’re in go
Caspian's POVDesiree has been gone for too long.I glance at the clock on the wall, tapping my fingers on the armrest of the chair in rhythm with my heartbeat, which is getting louder and faster with every passing second. Maybe I’m being paranoid. Maybe this is one of those “pregnancy bladder” situations everyone warned me about. But how long does it take a pregnant woman to pee? Five minutes? Ten? I’ve lost track of time, but it feels like hours.I shift in my chair, trying to shake off the gnawing sense of unease creeping up my spine. The ultrasound pictures are still in my hand, slightly crumpled from where my grip has tightened.“She’s fine,” I mutter to myself. “She’s fine.”But the words don’t stick.Standing abruptly, I glance toward the hallway leading to the bathroom. The corridor feels longer than I remember, its sterile walls closing in like they’re mocking me. Every instinct in me screams that something isn’t right.Dr. William steps out of an adjacent room, looking surpr
Dr. William turns to us, his smile widening. “It’s a girl.”For a moment, the world stops. A girl. We’re having a daughter.“A girl,” I repeat, the words tasting foreign and magical on my tongue. Tears spill over before I can stop them, and I press a hand to my mouth, overcome with emotion.Caspian is silent beside me, his gaze fixed on the monitor. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, as if he’s struggling to keep his own emotions in check. “A girl,” he echoes. Then, with a soft laugh, he adds, “God help her if she inherits your stubbornness.”“Excuse me?” I glare at him, though the tears streaming down my face probably ruin the effect. “She’s going to be the perfect combination of both of us, thank you very much.”“Let’s hope she leans more toward your good looks than my temper.”“Let’s hope she doesn’t inherit your ego,” I shoot back, though my voice is choked with laughter.Dr. William chuckles, stepping back to give us a moment. “I’ll print out some pictures for you two. T