Dominic's POV
The glossy black Bentley pulled up to the towering glass facade of Vierra Tech, one of Dominic's many corporate jewels under the Vierra Empire. The building was sleek, all steel and mirrored surfaces—modern, bold, and unapologetically powerful. Just like him.
The moment he stepped out of the car, flashbulbs went off.
Journalists who had been tipped off earlier flocked to the front with notepads and cameras. Dominic didn't flinch. His tailored navy suit sat on his broad frame like second skin, the shirt beneath it crisp white, two buttons undone just enough to show the edge of his bronzed collarbone and a hint of ink on his chest—just enough to drive them wild.
"Mr. Vierra, are you here to confirm rumors about the upcoming acquisition?"
"Dominic! Is it true you'll be taking over Vierra Tech personally?"
"Who's the mystery woman spotted with you last weekend?"
He smirked faintly and adjusted the cuffs on his shirt. "Good morning, gentlemen—and ladies," he added, locking eyes with a flustered female reporter whose knees visibly weakened.
"Can't speak on rumors. But I'll say this—Vierra Tech is about to enter its most profitable quarter yet."
He walked through the golden entrance like a king returning to his palace.
Inside, the receptionists nearly tripped over themselves trying to greet him. One dropped her tablet. Another forgot how to smile. The air shifted the moment Dominic entered—charisma rolled off him in waves, mixing with the power he carried like an invisible weapon.
He wasn't just admired.
He was worshipped.
"Sir," the regional CEO, a short man named Callahan, hurried to meet him in the lobby. "We weren't expecting you until next week."
Dominic's voice was smooth, low. "Changed my mind."
"Of course. Right this way, sir."
As they walked through the corridors, employees paused mid-task just to catch a glimpse of him. Women straightened their blouses. Men tried to stand taller. Everyone moved as if royalty had entered the building—and in a way, he had.
---
Callahan ushered him into the executive floor conference room. "Would you like me to have Ms. Blythe join us, sir?"
Dominic's brow twitched at the name. "Ms. Blythe?"
Callahan hesitated. "Yes. Bianca Blythe. Senior Innovation Strategist. Your father appointed her months ago—said she's one of the brightest we've had."
Dominic remembered her. Bianca Blythe. The daughter of Henry Blythe—his father's old business partner. A woman who was constantly at every family gathering, always just a little too close. His mother's favorite. The one she called a proper woman.
A woman Dominic had no interest in.
Still, he nodded. "Fine. Call her in."
---
Five minutes later, the door opened, and in came Bianca.
Tall. Sculpted. Her body poured into a deep burgundy dress that clung to her curves like she'd been sewn into it. The neckline plunged low—too low for a boardroom but just right for what she was trying to sell.
Dominic's eyes swept over her once. A glance. Nothing more.
Bianca, however, looked like a cat ready to pounce. "Dominic," she said, her voice dripping honey, "I didn't know you'd be blessing us with your presence today."
"Bianca," he replied flatly. "Let's keep this professional."
Unbothered, she circled the table to sit beside him rather than across. Her manicured nails brushed his arm as she leaned in, cleavage front and center.
He didn't react.
"I've prepared a detailed report on the projected AI expansion," she whispered. "But I could always give you… a private breakdown."
Dominic turned to face her fully now. His stare was cool. Sharp. "Is this how you earned your spot here, Bianca? Or is there actually a brain under all that silk?"
Her lips parted slightly, startled. For a second, her seductive mask slipped.
But then she smiled. "Maybe you should find out."
He leaned closer, his voice a quiet warning. "I'm not here to play, Bianca. Not with you. Not with anyone."
She blinked. The seductress routine was melting under his cold precision.
He stood.
"I'll review the reports myself. You're dismissed."
Bianca opened her mouth to speak, but Dominic was already out the door. He didn't need another woman thrown at him like a business transaction. He needed loyalty, intelligence, clarity—not desperation dressed in Dior.
---
Dominic walked down the corridor, stopping at a large window that overlooked the city skyline. He shoved his hands into his pockets and breathed in the cool, conditioned air.
His mother's voice echoed in his head: "You'll need better alliances. Perhaps a wife."
Bianca wasn't an alliance. She was a trap.
And yet… somewhere in his mind, a very different image surfaced—one of sharp eyes, a stiff smile, and words that didn't flatter but challenged. Kirah Evans.
She had walked into his boardroom like she owed no one her charm. Like she came for the same thing he did: power.
She wasn't trying to crawl into his bed. She was trying to earn her damn seat at the table.
And he respected the hell out of it.
That made her dangerous.
That made her… interesting.
---
Later that afternoon, Dominic returned to his private office in the city—far from the corporate circus at Vierra Tech. His shirt was now unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up, jaw set like stone. He poured himself a drink and stared at the screen in front of him.
Kirah's name was still glowing on the internal communication log. She had just submitted another update on the international security restructuring project.
He hadn't even asked her to.
Smart woman.
Disciplined. Thorough. Efficient.
And she had no idea just how much she'd already gotten under his skin.