Chapter 5
Katherine pov :
The Veyron estate was a fortress of glass, black steel, and concrete perched on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic. It was stark, modern, and intimidating, designed to keep the world out. After clearing two security checkpoints, Katherine pulled up to the massive front door. Liam Blackwood, Damien's head of security, was waiting for me . He was a tall, stoic man whose expression never changed.
"Ms. Hales," he greeted me with a nod, taking her overnight bag. "Mr. Veyron is in his study. He asked me to inform you that your car will be returned to your apartment garage."
Of course it would be. Damien left nothing to chance.
The interior of the estate was just as cold and imposing as the outside. Polished concrete floors, minimalist furniture, and vast, empty spaces. It was the home of a man who valued control and solitude above all else.
I found him in his study. The room was dominated by a massive oak desk and a floor-to-ceiling window that offered a breathtaking, stormy view of the ocean.
And there he was.
He wasn't in a suit. He stood with his back to me , looking out the window, a phone pressed to his ear. He was wearing a pair of low-slung, dark grey joggers that hung loosely on his hips, and nothing else.
Katherine's breath caught in her throat. She had only ever seen him in impeccably tailored suits, His back and shoulders were broad and powerful, a canvas of lean, hard muscle that shifted with his slightest movement. The harsh training he'd endured was etched into his very physique.
He ended his call with a curt word and turned around. And for the first time since I have known him, Damien Veyron looked at her and froze.
They scanned her, slowly, deliberately. They took in my new soft hairstyle that framed her face. They lingered on the simple but well-fitting top she wore that didnt do much to hide her curves.
"The files," he said, his voice a low, rough growl. He gestured toward the massive bookshelf.
"Yes, sir," she replied, her own voice sounding surprisingly steady. She walked toward the massive bookshelf against the far wall.
He moved to stand beside her, and she was suddenly acutely aware of his presence. The heat rolling off his bare skin, the faint, clean scent of soap, the sheer size of him.
She inserted the key while he placed his thumb on the biometric scanner. There was a soft click, and a section of the bookshelf swung inward, revealing the sleek, black face of the safe. He dialed in the combination and pulled the door open, retrieving the black leather folio.
He turned back to her, the folio in his hand. They were standing close, too close. His eyes dropped to her hair again.
"You changed it," he stated, his voice flat.
My cheeks grow hot, "Yes, sir," i said, my throat suddenly dry.
"Liam has your bag. The car is waiting," he said, pulling on a simple black t-shirt that stretched taut across his chest. He moved with grace,"Let's go."
As she followed him out of the cold, silent house and into the waiting car, she felt his eyes on her again.
The ride to the private airfield was tense and silent. We boarded a sleek Gulfstream jet and once we were in the air, he finally explained the situation without any extra words.
"The CEO of OmniCorp is Alistair Finch," he said, opening the red file. "He worked for my father. He was trusted. After my father died, Finch stole Veyron technology and clients to build his company."
I listened, my professional focus kicking in. This wasn't just business.
"This meeting tomorrow is his move to take over the Veridia City port," he continued, his voice like ice. "He's trying to cut the legs out from under us in our own city."
I understood. The port was the heart of the Veyron's power, both legal and illegal. Losing control of it would be a critical blow. This was a fight for survival.
"I need a complete breakdown of the personal and financial weaknesses of every OmniCorp board member," he ordered, sliding a file across the polished table to me. "I want to know who we can buy, who we can break, and who we can blackmail. Get to work."
I opened my laptop and started digging. For hours, the only sounds were the quiet hum of the jet engines and the clicking of my keyboard. There was no small talk. We just worked, focused on the same goal.
As we began our descent into London, I glanced up. He was watching me, his expression unreadable. I saw the cold focus in his eyes and realized this wasn't just business to him. It was deeply personal. And he had just pulled me right into the middle of it.