Sunday nights were usually quiet for Dominic Vierra—peaceful, calculated, predictable. He would pour himself a glass of red, review a few numbers from the week, skim through emails he already knew he'd ignore until morning, and maybe take a late-night drive past one of his construction sites or real estate developments. Sometimes he'd end the night with a meaningless lay, someone who wanted to feel powerful simply because they were naked beneath the man who owned half the city.
But tonight? None of that appealed to him.
The wine glass sat untouched on the glass table in his penthouse living room, catching soft moonlight and reflections from the city skyline. The TV played a silent football recap in the background. And yet, his mind was miles away—tangled in long legs, a stubborn tongue, and lips he hadn't stopped thinking about since he kissed them.
Kirah Evans.
He leaned back on the couch, one arm sprawled over the cushion as he exhaled deeply.
That one night. That one goddamn night had managed to ruin his balance.
He remembered it all too vividly—the way she moaned, how her body trembled as if he'd unlocked something sacred. Her moans, her arching spine, the tightness...
He had ruined it.
Now she walked through the office like he didn't exist, like the CEO of Vierra Holdings had been a one-night error she'd erased from her memory. She didn't stare longingly, didn't hover, didn't even flinch. She kept her work professional. Brilliant, efficient… and heartbreakingly distant.
Dominic had always believed that love, if it ever came, would come with force—loud and possessive. He never imagined it would sneak up on him like this, wrapped in calm elegance and fierce ambition, ignoring his wealth, his name, his power.
He wanted to beg. For her presence. Her voice. Her attention.
But someone like him? Beg?
It was beneath him.
Or so he used to think.
Dominic sat forward, running a hand through his thick black hair. His jaw tightened.
He wanted her again. More than just her body this time. He wanted all of her. Her time. Her laughter. Her heart. And he wanted her to know it. But how could he tell her when all he'd been doing was acting like a cold bastard, trying to keep his desires locked away behind boardroom doors?
He wanted to claim her. Not as a trophy. Not like the women who paraded around his arm at social functions. But really claim her—have her wear his name, sleep in his bed, fight him, challenge him, kiss him with that same fire he remembered that night.
He needed to know her beyond her résumé. Beyond her title as "Internal consultant overseeing security, Intelligence and personnel Integrity "
Her file at HR was too damn thin. He could recite her credentials by heart—top of her class, impressive internships, sharp recommendations. But nothing about her personal life. And Kirah was nothing if not private.
It was eating him alive.
His fingers tapped restlessly against the edge of his glass. For the first time in his career, Dominic considered doing something he swore he'd never do.
A background check.
Not the routine HR scan. Not the standard references and records. A deep, private one—discreet, confidential. He wanted to know where she lived, who she talked to, what made her heart race. Did she have anyone? A boyfriend? A secret relationship? He doubted it. A woman like Kirah didn't just give herself to anyone. That night… her body spoke volumes. She hadn't been touched. Not just physically, but emotionally too.
It was his body that had taken her innocence. But it was her spirit that haunted him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're losing your mind, Vierra."
But he already had.
Heels.
He suddenly remembered.
He hadn't apologized.
God, what kind of man is he?
He had already bought new ones—several pairs. Not that he planned on giving them to her directly. He wasn't sure how he'd explain it. "Here, wear these. Sorry I acted like a heartless asshole after fucking you."
He couldn't laugh nor cry..." It'll be delivered anonymously just as planned ,fuck"
And he couldn't wait to see her tomorrow.
Her hips swaying as she walked confidently through the office, a cup of coffee in one hand and her report in the other. Her sharp eyes scanning her work. The calm way she said "Mr. Vierra" like she wasn't the same woman who once moaned his di*k
Tomorrow was Monday.
And he didn't know if they'd be on good terms again. He didn't know if she'd even speak to him. But he did know one thing—he wouldn't act like she didn't matter anymore. He couldn't.
And this time… he wasn't letting her go...