Dominic's POV
Wayne Tower stood tall above the city—glass, steel, and silence. A monolith of power.
And at the very top, behind reinforced mahogany doors and bulletproof glass windows, sat the throne room: Dominic Wayne's office.
A place where people entered with trembling hands and exited with relief they hadn't been fired.
The office was expansive, lined with black marble floors that gleamed like obsidian. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the city skyline, hazy under the gray morning light. On one end stood a minimalist wet bar and espresso station; on the other, a sitting area with sharp leather couches and a dark oak table no one ever dared to touch without permission.
But the centerpiece always was him.
Dominic sat behind a custom-made desk that cost more than most people's mortgages. His chair was leather, black, high-backed his preferred perch of power.
Today, the usual icy calm he exuded had hardened into something far worse: a quiet, seething storm.
The Board of Directors sat before him, a dozen men and women in tailored suits, armed with quarterly reports, market analysis, and plastic smiles. Usually, Dominic dominated these meetings with few words, a flick of his pen, or a cool, piercing glance.
But today, the air was thick with something else.
Unease.
Fear.
Even Ivan, his ever-efficient, always-unshakable secretary, had fumbled the espresso tray earlier.
"I asked for no sugar," Dominic said flatly, the untouched espresso now stone-cold on his desk.
Ivan swallowed hard, bowing slightly. "Apologies, sir. I'll remake it...."
"Don't bother."
The tone clipped like a blade. Ivan disappeared like smoke behind the double doors.
The lead strategist, Mr. Renner, cleared his throat. "As I was saying, the acquisition of Caldwell Enterprises should give us a 12.6% boost in East Coast market share...."
Dominic's jaw ticked. "Should?"
Renner blinked. "Well, based on our projections...."
"I don't pay for projections. I pay for certainty. You want me to spend half a billion dollars based on a word that belongs in gambling halls?"
Silence fell.
Renner looked like he might pass out. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple.
Another board member, Ms. Lewins, leaned forward, trying to smooth the storm. "Mr. Wayne, we understand this week has been demanding, but—"
"Do you?" Dominic's voice was calm, lethal. "Do you understand anything about what it means to hold a billion-dollar empire in your palm, and still feel it slip through your fingers?"
She paled.
No one dared speak.
He could feel their fear. It usually pleased him. He liked control. He liked the silence that power bought.
But today?
It just pissed him off.
Because no amount of reports, no perfect profit margins, no terrified boardroom eyes could drown out her.
Alisha.
The name alone irritated him.
The girl was a waitress. A poor one. She read too many damn books and looked at him like she saw something he didn't want to admit existed.
She didn't even like him.
That should've been a bonus.
So why the hell was he thinking about the curve of her neck? The heat in her eyes when they danced? The way her lips parted like she wanted to taste him and slap him at the same time?
His hands clenched the arms of his chair.
That night at the gala, he'd touched her.
And now nothing felt right.
---
Outside the office, Ivan stood rigidly at his desk, clutching a new tray with the corrected espresso. He didn't dare go back in. Not yet.
Behind him, Dominic's assistant, Nora, a sharp-eyed woman with nerves of steel leaned in.
"He hasn't signed a thing in twenty minutes," she whispered.
"He's... off today," Ivan muttered.
Nora gave him a look. "He's always off. Today he's possessed."
Inside, the boardroom meeting dragged on like a funeral.
Dominic didn't hear a word.
He was staring out the window now, jaw clenched, mind pulled somewhere else entirely.
She had smiled when that man asked her to dance. Said yes without blinking. And he...Dominic damn Wayne had nearly burned watching it.
That wasn't love. It couldn't be. He didn't do love. He didn't feel this way.
He wanted to find her.
Wanted to pin her against a wall and ask her why.
Why she looked at him like that.
Why he felt like touching her again might ruin him, but not touching her might kill him.
---
Flashback to the Gala - His Memory
Her breath had hitched. His lips were inches from hers.
He should've kissed her.
But he ran.
Coward.
No. Strategist.
Because if he'd kissed her, he might've forgotten every rule he'd ever made.
---
The sound of someone clearing their throat snapped Dominic back to the present.
"Sir?" Renner asked, voice shaking.
Dominic turned slowly.
"I want a revised proposal. Numbers only. No guesswork. You have until tomorrow."
Renner nodded so fast his glasses slipped. "Y-yes, Mr. Wayne."
The others began to gather their things, relief pouring off them like steam.
"Dismissed."
As the last board member left, Dominic stood. The silence of the office wrapped around him like a vice.
He walked to the window. The city sprawled below him concrete, glass, control.
But none of it helped.
She haunted him.
Alisha Brandon.
Poor. Stubborn. Inconvenient.
Unforgettable.
He'd tried to search her name. His security team came up with minimal info. Nothing tied her directly to Brandon wealth, no legitimate family connections flagged in elite circles.
Which made no damn sense.
So who was she?
And why the hell was his body reacting like she was already his?
He heard the door open behind him.
"Ivan," he said without turning.
"Sir?"
"Find her."
A beat of silence.
Ivan tried to hide his surprise, but failed. "Find... who, sir?"
Dominic turned slowly, his expression lethal.
"The girl from the gala. Alisha. The one with the coffee incident. I want everything; where she lives, where she works, what color sheets she sleeps on."
Ivan blinked. "Y-yes, sir. Of course."
"And Ivan."
"Yes?"
"If Vanessa calls... tell her I'm in a meeting."
"With who?"
Dominic's jaw set. "My sanity."
---
Dominic's POV - Alone
He dropped back into his chair, tugging at the knot of his tie like it was choking him.
He'd spent his whole life mastering self-control.
Built an empire from concrete and ice.
He couldn't let one girl shatter that.
But Alisha wasn't just any girl.
She was a question he didn't know how to answer.
A craving he didn't know how to kill.
His phone buzzed. A message from Vanessa.
> Thinking of last night. Come over later and I'll help you... unwind?
He deleted it.
No amount of sex or moaning from a woman he didn't care about could fix this.
He needed to see Alisha again.
Touch her.
Break whatever spell she'd cast if that was even possible.
Dominic leaned back in his chair, eyes dark as thunderclouds.
This wasn't about love.
He didn't do love.
This was about power.
And he was going to take it back.
Starting with her.