Kirah's POV
Kirah walked into the Vierra Holdings building with her usual no-nonsense stride. Her heels clicked confidently against the polished marble floor, her tailored slacks hugged her curves with an understated grace, and her ponytail was tight—every strand in place.
She looked like a woman who didn't come to play.
But that didn't mean she didn't try to play nice.
Her plan for the week was simple:
Integrate. Prove herself. Build bridges. Burn none.
Except some of the bridges she tried to build felt like they were already doused in kerosene.
"Good morning," she said as she passed the analytics team.
Renee—the short girl with a constant pencil behind her ear—offered a shy smile. "Hey, Kirah."
Progress.
But as she approached the operations hub, the temperature shifted. Trish, a blonde with resting-boss-face and a Chanel bag that looked more like a performance than fashion, barely blinked as Kirah passed.
Worse, Kirah caught the girl's eye… only to be met with an obvious turn-away and a snide whisper to the guy next to her. He chuckled—loud enough to sting.
Kirah didn't flinch. On the outside, she was ice. Inside? She cataloged the insult like data: Trish - petty. Ben - follower. Noted.
She headed straight to her office and locked the door. Safe. For now.
---
By lunchtime, she'd attempted three more smiles, one team meeting, and a casual chat in the break room. Only two people responded like she was human. The rest either ignored her or acted like she was already climbing over them.
Maybe she was. But still—damn.
She sat alone in the cafeteria, flipping through a presentation draft on her tablet while sipping lukewarm coffee. She wasn't new to corporate tension, but this place… it felt like everyone was armed. And half of them had laser sights pointed at her back.
But she didn't let it break her stride.
Not when her name was now attached to one of the most powerful companies in the country. Not when this paycheck could cover her brother's final year tuition, her sister's internship stipend, and get her father new tailoring equipment.
They could hate her all they wanted.
Respect would come. Eventually.
---
Dominic's POV
Dominic Vierra stood in his father's palatial foyer, irritated and overdressed. His private jet had landed barely an hour ago, and he was already wondering why he hadn't just faked an emergency and stayed in the city.
The family estate sprawled over acres of manicured lawns and marble pathways—more museum than home. Gold accents, chandeliers that cost more than some people's homes, and staff who moved like ghosts in perfectly pressed uniforms.
"Master Dominic," the butler greeted with a bow. "Your mother awaits you in the west garden."
Dominic nodded without smiling. "Thanks, Harold."
He strode past portraits of generations of Vierra men, their eyes like mirrors of his own—cold, sharp, impossibly ambitious. Legacy here wasn't just wealth. It was pressure.
The garden was as excessive as the rest of the estate—roses, fountains, trimmed hedges in the shape of swans. His mother sat beneath a canopy, in a pearl-white chaise, draped in silk like she'd just stepped off a royal movie set.
"Darling!" she sang, lifting her gloved hand dramatically. "Come here, let me see your face."
Dominic obeyed, kissing her cheek. "You said you weren't feeling well."
"Oh, nonsense," she waved. "Just a little dizzy spell. But I needed to see you. You never visit."
"I run an empire, Mother."
"So did your father, and he still came home for dinner."
Dominic raised a brow. "He came home to cheat on his dinner."
She smiled tightly. "Touché."
---
Their small talk circled around charity galas and cousins who married beneath them, until his mother leaned in and said something that caught him off guard.
"Your father's planning to retire. Fully."
Dominic blinked. "He said that five years ago."
"This time, it's real. The board's already being groomed to transition control to you—permanently."
Dominic exhaled. "That changes nothing. I already run everything."
His mother gave a knowing look. "It changes everything, darling. You'll need a new circle. Better alliances. And perhaps…" She sipped her wine. "A wife."
Dominic scoffed. "I don't need a wife. I need people to stay out of my damn way."
"Language," she said, echoing Kirah's mother almost eerily.
But Dominic was already rising. "I'll be in the city tomorrow. I have work."
She smiled after him, lips painted in soft coral. "I know you do. And I'm sure there's a girl somewhere in that big company of yours who's dying to tame the beast."
Dominic didn't dignify it with a reply.
But as he walked back through the estate, his mind drifted—without permission—to a certain woman with sharp eyes, no patience for nonsense, and a smile she barely used.
Kirah Evans.
---
Kirah's POV – Later That Day
Back at the office, Kirah's final task of the day was reviewing a project proposal. She was deep in concentration when a soft knock came at her door.
Renee peeked in. "Hey… just wanted to say, the figures you adjusted this morning? Spot on. Helped us close the metric gap on Project Zenith."
Kirah looked up, surprised but grateful. "Thanks, Renee. I appreciate that."
"You're not like they say, you know."
Kirah paused. "And what exactly do they say?"
Renee blushed. "Just… that you're cold. Calculating. Trying too hard. You know—CEO's pet."
Kirah's mouth twitched. "Well, let them say what they want. I didn't come here to blend in. I came here to build something."
Renee smiled. "For what it's worth, I think you're the smartest person in that boardroom."
Kirah gave her a nod. "Thanks. I'll remember that."
As the door closed, Kirah leaned back in her chair.
One down. A dozen more to go.
---
Dominic's POV – That Night
Later that evening, Dominic sat in his private study, laptop open, tie undone. He reviewed Kirah's flagged security reports from earlier in the week—tight, clear, detailed. She didn't just know how to spot risks—she knew how to think ahead.
Most people gave him what he asked for.
Kirah gave him what he didn't even realize he needed.
He exhaled slowly, closing the file.
He wasn't used to this kind of mental intrigue.
Especially not from a woman who didn't even try to flirt with him.
Hell, most women tried to crawl into his attention like it was a warm bed. Kirah had walked into his world, flipped it upside down, and didn't blink.
And he liked it.
Maybe too much.