Juliette arrived at the office earlier than usual. The city was still waking up, but her mind was already racing. The Garden had given her a task—cryptic, dangerous, and wrapped in velvet threat.
But first, there was Damien.
He was already in her office, seated behind her desk like he owned it. His tie was loosened, his sleeves rolled up, and his eyes locked onto her the moment she stepped in.
"You're late," he said.
Juliette closed the door behind her, locking it. "You're in my chair."
Damien stood slowly, walking toward her with deliberate steps. "You're not the same woman who walked into the Garden last night."
She stepped into him, her voice low. "And you're not the same man who warned me not to go."
---
The tension snapped.
He pulled her into him, lips crashing against hers with a hunger that had been simmering for days. Her back hit the wall, papers fluttering from the desk as his hands explored her body—urgent, possessive.
Juliette gasped as his fingers slid beneath her blouse, tracing the curve of her breast, teasing her with the edge of control. She arched into him, her breath catching as he whispered against her skin.
"You're playing with fire."
She smiled, eyes dark. "I plan to burn."
---
They didn't make it to the couch.
The desk became their battleground—her skirt hiked up, his belt undone, the morning sun casting golden light on a scene that blurred the line between power and pleasure.
When it was over, Juliette lay across the desk, her hair tousled, her body humming.
Damien buttoned his shirt, watching her. "What did the Garden give you?"
She sat up, smoothing her blouse. "A name. A location. And a warning."
---
The Task
The card had arrived in a black envelope, sealed with wax.
Inside:
Name: Allegra Voss
Location: Penthouse 47, The Meridian Tower
Instruction: Extract her secret. Use any means necessary. Do not be seen.
Juliette knew the name. Allegra Voss was a media mogul, ruthless and untouchable. Her empire shaped narratives, buried scandals, and built reputations from whispers.
Damien frowned. "She's protected. If you get caught—"
"I won't," Juliette said. "I know how to make people talk."
---
The Billionaire
Meanwhile, across the city, another player was moving pieces.
Lucien Thorne, billionaire tech magnate, Garden patron, and the man whose name was never spoken aloud in the inner circle. He watched Juliette's rise with interest—and concern.
In his private suite, Lucien reviewed surveillance footage from the Garden gathering. He paused on Juliette's face, zooming in.
"She's bold," he said to his assistant. "Too bold."
"She completed the initiation," the assistant replied. "She's earned her place."
Lucien leaned back, swirling his drink. "Everyone earns their place. Until I decide they don't."
---
Juliette didn't know it yet, but Lucien had already placed her on his board. Not as a pawn.
As a queen.
And queens, he believed, were only powerful until they forgot who built the throne.
Juliette's office still smelled of bourbon and lust. The blinds were half-drawn, casting slits of light across Damien's bare chest as he leaned against the window, watching her dress.
She moved slowly, deliberately—slipping her blouse over flushed skin, smoothing her skirt over hips that still tingled from his touch. Her body was sated, but her mind was sharpening. The Garden's task loomed, and Allegra Voss wasn't the kind of woman who gave up secrets easily.
Damien spoke without turning. "You know she'll test you."
Juliette fastened her earrings. "She'll try."
He turned then, crossing the room in two strides, pulling her into him again. His hands slid down her back, resting just above the curve of her rear. "You walk into fire like it's silk."
Juliette kissed him—slow, deep, claiming. "Because I know how to burn without turning to ash."
---
Penthouse 47 – The Meridian Tower
Allegra Voss's penthouse was a fortress disguised as elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows, obsidian floors, and a scent of white peonies that masked something colder.
Juliette arrived in a tailored suit, hair pinned, heels sharp. She was introduced as a consultant—an expert in crisis management. Allegra didn't question it. She was too busy watching.
"You're not what I expected," Allegra said, pouring champagne.
Juliette accepted the glass, her smile poised. "I rarely am."
They talked for hours—about media, influence, the art of burying truth beneath beauty. Allegra was magnetic, dangerous, and clearly aware that Juliette wasn't just there to talk.
"You want something," Allegra said finally.
Juliette leaned in, her voice velvet. "I want to know what you're afraid of."
Allegra's eyes narrowed. "Fear is a luxury I don't afford."
Juliette reached out, brushing Allegra's wrist. "Then let me show you what it feels like."
---
The Seduction
Later, in Allegra's private lounge, the mood shifted. The champagne was stronger, the music slower. Allegra sat beside Juliette, her fingers grazing the inside of Juliette's wrist.
"You're dangerous," Allegra whispered.
Juliette turned to her, lips inches apart. "Only to those who lie."
Allegra kissed her—soft, exploratory. Juliette responded, not just with lips but with intent. Her hand slid along Allegra's thigh, her touch feather-light, her breath warm against Allegra's ear.
"You want to be seen," Juliette murmured. "But only by someone who won't flinch."
Allegra's body arched into her, surrendering not just to desire, but to the illusion of safety.
And in that moment—when skin met skin and secrets hovered just beneath the surface—Juliette saw it.
A flash of fear.
A name whispered in the dark.
Lucien.
---
Lucien Thorne – The Architect
Across the city, Lucien Thorne stood in his glass tower, watching the skyline like a god surveying his kingdom. His assistant entered, holding a tablet.
"She's with Allegra."
Lucien didn't look up. "And Allegra will break. They all do."
He turned to the window, sipping his drink. "Juliette thinks she's playing the Garden. But she's walking straight into mine."