Five Months Later...

His lips were parted against my neck, whispering the one name he shouldn't dare to call me.

"Stepsis."

His fingers were between my thighs, tracing slow, forbidden circles in places he shouldn't even dream of touching.

If anyone found out, we'd both be ruined.

Because this was the kind of sin that would make angels weep.

His mouth burned a path down the side of my throat-hot, desperate, and shamelessly possessive.

My back slammed against the cold glass of his penthouse window as he lifted me with strong arms.

Behind us, the skyline blurred into a sea of lights, like stars caught mid-explosion.

The warmth of his skin seared into mine, as did the shivers he dragged from my body.

One of his hands clutched my waist like I was something he might lose-or something he'd already claimed.

The other slid beneath the hem of my loose skirt, slowly finding its way to my honeypot.

Dripping.

Yeah, I was already dripping... just from craving.

The kind of craving that could make the heavens shudder.

I was trembling, painfully aware of every beat of my racing heart.

My fingers curled into the lapels of his designer shirt.

I needed something to hold onto anything to ground me but Zane Grey had already become my gravity.

"Say it," he rasped, voice thick with desire, lips brushing the shell of my ear like a threat wrapped in silk.

Air slipped into my lungs, but oxygen didn't stand a chance against the wildfire ripping through my veins.

I was already half-undone-blouse askew, bra strap slipping down my shoulder, pulse pounding like a war drum under my skin.

"You want this," he growled, dragging his mouth along the dip of my collarbone, each kiss a confession I hadn't meant to make.

"I-I shouldn't," I stuttered.

"But you do."

"I hate you," I whispered, but the lie crumbled between us.

He pulled back just enough to lock eyes with me-those silver-gray eyes, laced with fire.

The kind of look that didn't just see through lies-it scorched them.

"No," he said with a cruel smirk, fingers tightening around my waist, dragging me closer.

"You crave me. Like sin."

And I did.

God, I did.

⸻

The very beginning

Ivory~

If I'd had the slightest idea my new boss would become the man I'd potentially lose my mind and soul over, I wouldn't have worn this nasty white blouse.

It was the only clean one I had.

Slightly sheer, barely ironed, and now, courtesy of a tragic run-in with a stranger and a tall cup of iced matcha... stained like the ghost of my own anxiety.

"Great," I muttered, blotting at my chest with a napkin as I speed-walked down Lexington Avenue.

"First impression: intern who bathes in green tea."

My phone buzzed in my ear.

"Ivy, breathe," my mom said gently. "It's your first day, not a life-or-death mission."

Easy for her to say from across the state line.

Since I moved to the city two weeks ago, she'd been trying to coach me through the chaos with daily pep talks.

We hadn't seen each other in months-not since she remarried-and now all we had were these quick morning calls and the occasional how are you really? texts.

After graduation and Mom's wedding, I packed my bags and left home like it was a chapter that no longer belonged to me.

I'd lived in a crummy apartment back in my hometown, and now I'd relocated to a modest one tucked between New York's chaos and the quiet of unfamiliar streets.

It wasn't glamorous, but it was mine.

A clean break.

Mom still called sometimes daily, sometimes not at all, but we hadn't seen each other in person since I first moved out.

"I'm breathing," I lied. "I'm just... leaking flavored syrups through my shirt."

She laughed-that soft, motherly kind of laugh that used to mean everything would be okay.

"You'll be fine. Just be yourself."

I bit down the urge to say myself is a walking disaster.

Because today-of all days-I needed to be composed. Polished. Impressive.

Instead, I was halfway to a breakdown, gripping my bag strap like it held the last of my dignity, with a green-streaked blouse clinging to me like shame.

Today was my first day as an intern at the almighty Grey Holdings-the kind of company people sold their souls to get into.

The kind that chewed up Ivy League grads and spat out anyone who didn't bleed ambition.

And the hottest CEO in New York?

Not that I cared.

Okay-fine. I cared a little.

Not because of his looks-although he had the face of a fallen angel and the suit game of a Bond villain-but because of what he represented.

Success. Power. A chance to shape my future into something that wasn't defined by secondhand dreams.

Zane Grey was ruthless, brilliant, and untouchably cold.

And I needed this internship like a fish needed water.

I wiped my hands on my skirt, took a shaky breath, and stepped into the gleaming glass entrance of Grey Tower.

⸻

The lobby hit me like a luxury perfume ad-towering glass, polished chrome, and the kind of silence that felt expensive.

I stopped to say a quick prayer and, with sweaty palms, walked up to the front counter.

A woman in a black bodycon dress barely glanced up from her tablet as she slid a visitor badge toward me.

"Elevator's to the left. Thirty-eighth floor."

Thirty-eight. Jesus.

I took the badge like it was the key to another universe, straightened my spine, and whispered a prayer to the gods of not-tripping-in-heels.

The elevator was a mirrored box of self-judgment.

I adjusted my bag, checked the blouse situation-still green-ish-and tried not to spiral.

This was my second chance.

My first internship had imploded after a certain senior manager decided I was too soft for real business.

I couldn't afford another screw-up-not with bills piling up and a résumé thinner than my patience.

When the doors finally opened on the 38th floor, I stepped out-

-

And promptly froze.

There he was.

Zane Grey.

In the flesh.

Tall. Commanding. Dressed in a suit that probably cost more than my entire lease.

His features were all sculpted jawlines and stormy eyes, his mouth set in a line that looked carved rather than born.

He was narrowing his eyes at me-and I could swear I saw him clench his jaw.

Like I'd just walked into his funeral in a red dress.

Like I didn't belong.

Which, considering the matcha stain blooming across my chest and the deer-in-headlights look I was wearing, felt about right.

I swallowed.

Maybe I didn't recognize him in that moment for what he truly was-not just my boss, but the man who would burn my world down.

But he recognized me.

Or rather, he recognized that he didn't want me here.

And just like that... my palms started to sweat.

Let the chaos begin.

⸻

Zane ~

Of all the interns in Manhattan... it had to be her.

I didn't even need to see the name on the file.

The second she stepped out of the elevator, I knew.

Same eyes. Same mouth. Same damn smile that haunted my father's photo updates.

Ivory Prescott.

My father's new stepdaughter.

The girl he'd sent me a picture of, along with a note that read:

"Your sister's rounding up college soon. She's smart-you'd like her."

Bullshit.

She wasn't my sister.

And I didn't like her.

Not then. Not now.

But the second she walked in wearing that stupid white blouse... something in my chest shifted. Tightened. Burned.

She didn't recognize me.

Not even a flicker of hesitation.

Just pure innocence.

Fake or not, it worked.

She looked up at me-nerves in her posture, hope in her eyes.

Trying to act cool.

Professional.

She had no idea she'd just walked straight into the arms of her stepbrother.

Her new boss.

And I couldn't look away.

"Ivory Prescott?" I said flatly.

She nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Follow me."

I turned before she could respond. If I looked at her a second longer, I'd say something I couldn't unsay.

Do something I couldn't undo.

I led her down the corridor, past glass-walled meeting rooms and the executive lounge.

Every step echoed louder in my head than on the polished floor.

She was a pawn. A pretty one, but still a pawn.

My father had sent her here to get close-I was sure of it.

She was just another move in his long, manipulative game.

So why the hell was I walking her to my office instead of kicking her out?

I opened the door and motioned for her to sit.

She did.

Big eyes. Nervous fingers clutching her purse.

Sitting across from me like she belonged here.

God, this was a mistake.

I should've called security.

I should've shredded her application.

But I didn't.

I watched her lips part as she tried to introduce herself, fidgeting with the ring on her index finger.

"I just wanted to say thank you for this opportunity," she began. "I know I don't have the strongest background, but-"

"You weren't on the shortlist."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't approve your internship. So how exactly did your résumé end up on my desk?"

She swallowed. "I applied through the public portal. HR interviewed me and offered me the position."

I leaned back. "Convenient."

"I didn't do anything shady, if that's what you're implying."

"I'm not implying anything, Miss Prescott. I'm telling you-it feels suspicious."

Her cheeks flushed. But her gaze... sharpened.

"You think I faked my way into an unpaid internship just to... what? Spy on your coffee orders?"

I didn't respond.

She stood suddenly, arms folded over her chest, anger replacing nerves.

"If you don't want me here, just say it. But don't accuse me of something just because I didn't come from whatever cold, privileged planet you did."

That got my attention.

Because she had no idea.

No idea who I was.

No idea what tied us together.

No idea how badly I wanted to destroy everything carrying my father's name-including her.

But I didn't fire her.

No.

I leaned forward, letting the tension stretch between us like a live wire.

"You've got guts," I said quietly.

She looked away. "I need this internship."

It hit me harder than I expected.

She wasn't here to climb the ladder-she was here to survive.

So I made a decision I already hated.

"You start tomorrow. 9 a.m. sharp."

Her eyes widened. "Wait-you're not firing me?"

"I'm giving you one chance. Screw it up, and you're gone."

She nodded. "Thank you."

She left before I could change my mind.

I stared at the door long after it shut.

What the hell was I doing?

She was the one person I should've stayed away from.

The one name on my father's lips I swore I'd never let into my life.

Now she was in my building.

Working for me.

Smelling like vanilla and trouble.

Wearing skirts that'd get her eaten alive in this office.

And God help me... I was already thinking about what it would feel like to ruin her.