The Merger of Hearts

Chapter One Zara Delacroix's stilettos clicked against the marble floor of Blackwood Industries' executive level like a countdown to her own execution. The forty-second floor had always felt like another world—all chrome and glass and intimidating silence—but today it might as well have been Mars. "You can do this," she muttered under her breath, smoothing down her charcoal pencil skirt for the third time. The merger between Blackwood Industries and her company, Meridian Marketing, had been announced just yesterday, and already the corporate reshuffling had begun. Her boss had been unceremoniously let go this morning, and Zara had been "promoted" to report directly to the devil himself. Caspian Blackwood. Billionaire. Corporate raider. Destroyer of careers and, if the tabloids were to be believed, breaker of hearts. His assistant, a sharp-eyed woman in her fifties, barely glanced up from her computer. "He's expecting you. Go right in." Zara's hand trembled slightly as she reached for the door handle. She'd worked too hard to get where she was at twenty-eight to let some entitled billionaire intimidate her. She'd grown up in foster care, put herself through college with three jobs, and climbed the corporate ladder with nothing but grit and brilliance. She could handle one meeting with Caspian Blackwood. The door swung open to reveal an office that was somehow both minimalist and obscenely luxurious. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcased the Chicago skyline, and everything from the desk to the chairs screamed expensive in that understated way only the truly wealthy could achieve. And behind that massive desk sat the man himself. Zara's breath caught involuntarily. The photos didn't do him justice. Caspian Blackwood was devastating in person—all sharp angles and controlled power, with jet-black hair that looked like he'd run his fingers through it one too many times and eyes the color of aged whiskey. His suit was perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders, and when he stood, unfolding to his full impressive height, Zara had to resist the urge to take a step back. "Ms. Delacroix." His voice was deep, cultured, with just a hint of an accent she couldn't place. "Please, sit." It wasn't a request. Zara lifted her chin and walked to the chair across from his desk with as much grace as her suddenly wobbly knees would allow. "Mr. Blackwood. I understand I'll be reporting directly to you during the merger transition." "That's correct." He remained standing, studying her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. "Your previous supervisor spoke highly of your work before we... restructured his position. Tell me, Ms. Delacroix, what makes you think you can handle the demands of working directly under me?" The innuendo in his words might have been unintentional, but Zara felt heat rise in her cheeks anyway. "I've successfully managed twelve major accounts in the past year alone, increasing client retention by thirty-seven percent. I don't crack under pressure, I exceed expectations, and I've never met a deadline I couldn't beat." "Impressive statistics." He finally sat, leaning back in his chair with the casual confidence of a predator who knew he was at the top of the food chain. "But working for me is... different. I demand perfection. I work eighteen-hour days and expect my direct reports to match my dedication. I don't tolerate excuses, delays, or anything less than excellence." "Good," Zara shot back, surprising herself with her boldness. "Because I don't make excuses or miss deadlines. And I've never given anything less than excellence in my entire career." Something flickered in his eyes—surprise? Interest? "We'll see about that. I need a complete audit of the Meridian accounts by Monday. Every client, every campaign, every dollar spent. You'll present your findings to me personally." "Monday? That's only three days away, and there are over fifty active accounts—" "Is there a problem, Ms. Delacroix? I thought you didn't make excuses." Zara's jaw clenched. "No problem at all. You'll have your audit Monday morning." "Excellent. You'll find the necessary access codes have already been sent to your email. I trust you can see yourself out." Dismissed. Just like that. Zara stood on legs that felt steadier now, anger replacing nervousness. She'd almost made it to the door when his voice stopped her. "Oh, and Ms. Delacroix? Wear something more... conservative next time. That skirt is distracting." She whirled around, indignation flaring. Her skirt was perfectly professional, hitting just at her knees. "Excuse me?" He was looking at his computer now, apparently already moving on to his next task. "You heard me. Dismissed." Zara left his office with her cheeks burning and her hands fisted at her sides. The arrogance! The sheer, unmitigated gall! Her skirt was completely appropriate, and he had no right to comment on her appearance. But as she jabbed the elevator button with perhaps more force than necessary, she couldn't shake the way his eyes had traveled over her when she'd first walked in. Like he was cataloging every detail. Like he was hungry. No. She was imagining things. Caspian Blackwood was known for being ruthless, not for fraternizing with employees. And she had an impossible audit to complete in three days. She'd show him excellence, all right. She'd show him excellence until he choked on it. Chapter Two By Saturday night, Zara was running on three hours of sleep and pure spite. Her apartment looked like a paper bomb had exploded—printouts covered every surface, her laptop screen glowed with spreadsheets, and empty coffee cups formed a small city on her kitchen counter. The audit was nearly complete, and it was damning. Someone at Meridian had been bleeding money through false accounts for months, possibly years. The deeper she dug, the more rot she uncovered. No wonder Blackwood Industries had been able to acquire them so easily—Meridian was hemorrhaging cash. Her phone buzzed. An email from Caspian Blackwood himself, sent at 11:47 PM. *Status update. My office. Now.* Now? It was nearly midnight on a Saturday. The man was insane. Zara looked down at her pajama shorts and oversized university sweatshirt. Well, he'd demanded she dress more conservatively. This was about as conservative as it got. Twenty minutes later, she strode through the empty Blackwood Industries lobby, her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and her anger simmering just below the surface. The security guard didn't even blink when she signed in—apparently, midnight meetings were normal in Caspian Blackwood's world. The executive floor was eerily quiet, lit only by emergency lighting and the glow spilling from beneath Caspian's office door. Zara didn't bother knocking. He was standing by the windows, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal surprisingly muscled forearms. A tumbler of what looked like whiskey dangled from one hand. "You're late," he said without turning around. "You gave me twenty minutes' notice for a midnight meeting. I'm actually early." He turned then, and his eyes widened slightly as he took in her appearance. "Interesting interpretation of 'conservative,' Ms. Delacroix." "You summoned me from my home at midnight on a Saturday. You're lucky I'm wearing pants at all." Was that a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth? It was gone before she could be sure. "Show me what you've found." Zara set up her laptop on his desk, hyperaware of him moving to stand behind her chair. He smelled like expensive cologne and whiskey, and the heat from his body seemed to envelop her in the dim office. "Someone's been embezzling," she said, pulling up her spreadsheets. "Look at these accounts—they're all shells, funneling money to offshore holdings. It goes back at least two years." He leaned over her shoulder to see the screen better, and Zara forgot how to breathe. His chest was nearly touching her back, one hand braced on the desk beside her laptop. "Excellent work," he murmured, and his breath against her ear sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "How much in total?" "Nearly twelve million." She clicked to another screen, trying to ignore the way her body was responding to his proximity. "The pattern suggests someone high up in financial—" "Harrison," Caspian finished. "The CFO. I suspected, but I needed proof." "You knew?" Zara twisted in her chair to look up at him, which was a mistake. His face was inches from hers, those whiskey eyes dark in the low light. "I suspected. That's why I demanded this audit. And why I needed someone I could trust to complete it." His gaze dropped to her mouth for just a second before snapping back to her eyes. "Someone with no loyalties to the old guard at Meridian." "You could have told me what I was looking for." "And influenced your findings? No. I needed unbiased work. Which you've delivered brilliantly." The praise shouldn't have affected her the way it did. But after three days of brutal work, after pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion to meet his impossible deadline, those words of approval hit her like a drug. "I'm not done," she said, her voice coming out huskier than intended. "There's more. The embezzlement is just part of it. Several of our biggest accounts are built on fraudulent metrics. Someone's been cooking the books to make Meridian look more profitable than it actually is." His hand tightened on the desk. "Show me everything." For the next hour, they went through her findings in meticulous detail. Caspian pulled up a chair beside her, and their knees occasionally brushed under the desk. Each accidental touch sent electricity through Zara's body, and she found herself losing track of her thoughts more than once. "This is exceptional work," he finally said, leaning back in his chair. "You've accomplished in three days what my forensic accounting team couldn't manage in three weeks." "I'm good at puzzles," Zara said, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. "And I don't sleep much anyway." "When's the last time you ate?" The question surprised her. "I... this morning, I think? Yesterday morning?" He stood abruptly. "That's unacceptable. Come with me." "Where are we going?" "To feed you. You're no good to me if you collapse from malnutrition." He grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "There's a place two blocks away that serves the best Chinese food in Chicago, and they owe me a favor." "It's one in the morning!" "And you've just saved me millions of dollars and handed me everything I need to prosecute Harrison. The least I can do is buy you dinner." He paused at the door. "Unless you have somewhere else to be?" Zara thought about her empty apartment, the cold pizza waiting in her fridge, the fact that she'd just worked herself to exhaustion for a man who'd insulted her appearance in their first meeting. "Lead the way," she said, shutting her laptop. The restaurant was indeed closed, but the owner greeted Caspian like an old friend and ushered them to a private booth in the back. Soon, their table was covered with steaming dishes—kung pao chicken, beef lo mein, spring rolls, and more food than two people could possibly eat. "You weren't kidding about them owing you a favor," Zara said, taking a bite of the best Chinese food she'd ever tasted. "I helped them with some visa issues a few years back," Caspian said, expertly wielding his chopsticks. "Mr. Chen insists on feeding me whenever I work late." "Which is always, from what I hear." "Pot, meet kettle. When's the last time you took a day off?" Zara had to think about it. "Christmas, I think?" "It's August." "Like I said, pot, meet kettle." He smiled then, a real smile that transformed his face from coldly handsome to devastatingly attractive. "TouchĂŠ." They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes before Zara's curiosity got the better of her. "Can I ask you something?" "You can ask. I might not answer." "Why did you really comment on my skirt? It was perfectly professional." Caspian set down his chopsticks, his expression unreadable. "Because I needed to establish boundaries. The moment you walked into my office, I had thoughts that were extremely inappropriate for a professional relationship." Zara's heart skipped. "What kind of thoughts?" "The kind that would get me sued for sexual harassment if I voiced them." His eyes were dark, intense. "The kind that involve finding out if your skin is as soft as it looks. The kind that have kept me distracted for three days while you've been working yourself to death on my audit." "Oh." It came out as barely a whisper. "Yes, 'oh.' So I was an ass about your perfectly professional attire because I needed to remind myself that you're off-limits. You work for me. I don't mix business with pleasure." "Never?" "Never." They stared at each other across the table, the air between them crackling with tension. Zara's skin felt too tight, her breath coming shorter. She'd never wanted to touch someone so badly in her life. "We should go," she said finally. "It's late." "Yes," he agreed, but neither of them moved. "Thank you for dinner." "Thank you for the audit." Still, neither moved. "Zara," he said, and the sound of her first name in his mouth was like a caress. "We can't." "I know," she whispered. "I'm your boss." "I know." "It would be inappropriate." "Completely." "Unethical." "Absolutely." His hand moved across the table, fingers brushing hers. The touch was electric, sending shockwaves through her entire body. "Fuck," he muttered, and then he was pulling money from his wallet, leaving it on the table. "Come on. I'll drive you home." The ride in his Tesla was silent, tense. Zara gave him her address and then pressed herself against the passenger door, as far from him as possible. If she touched him now, she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop. He pulled up in front of her building but left the engine running. "Monday morning, ten AM. We'll present your findings to the board." "All right." "Wear whatever you want." "Okay." "Zara?" "Yes?" "This can't happen." "I know." But when she looked at him, his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and his jaw was clenched so tight she was surprised he could speak at all. She got out of the car without another word, but she felt his eyes on her all the way to her building's door. Only when she was safely inside did she hear his car pull away. In her apartment, surrounded by the chaos of her three-day work marathon, Zara pressed her fingers to her lips and wondered how the hell she was going to survive working for a man who made her burn with just a look. Chapter Three Monday morning arrived with all the subtlety of a freight train. Zara dressed carefully—a conservative navy dress that hit below her knees, minimal jewelry, hair pulled back in a sleek bun. If she was going to face the board of directors and expose massive fraud, she needed to look unimpeachable. She arrived at Blackwood Industries thirty minutes early, only to find Caspian already in his office. He was on a call, pacing behind his desk like a caged panther, and he held up a finger when he saw her, indicating she should wait. Zara settled into one of his guest chairs and tried not to stare. He was wearing a charcoal suit today that fit him like a second skin, and his hair was slightly mussed as if he'd been running his hands through it. When he turned to pace back, she caught a glimpse of his profile—the sharp line of his jaw, the way his brow furrowed in concentration. "No, Harrison doesn't know yet," he was saying into the phone. "I want security in place before we confront him... Yes, she'll present to the board first... I have complete confidence in her work." That last part made warmth bloom in Zara's chest. He ended the call and turned to her, his expression all business. "Are you ready for this?" "Born ready." "Harrison will be in the board meeting. He's going to realize what's happening the moment you start presenting. Things could get ugly." "I can handle ugly." His lips quirked. "I'm beginning to believe you can handle anything." He moved around the desk to stand in front of her. "After this meeting, everything changes. Meridian's leadership will be gutted. I'll need someone I trust to help rebuild. Are you interested?" "What exactly are you offering?" "Senior Vice President of Marketing Operations. You'd oversee the integration of Meridian's accounts into Blackwood Industries. Report directly to me for the first year, then to the CMO once things stabilize." Zara's breath caught. It was a massive promotion—the kind that would usually take another decade to achieve. "That's a big leap from marketing director." "You just uncovered twelve million in embezzlement in three days. You've proven you're worth the leap." He paused. "There's one condition." "Which is?" "We maintain strict professional boundaries. What I said Saturday night stands—I don't mix business with pleasure. If you take this position, we keep things entirely professional between us." The words shouldn't have stung, but they did. "Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way." "Good." But his eyes said something different, something hungry and conflicted. "The board meets in twenty minutes. Let's review your presentation one more time." They spent the next fifteen minutes going over her slides, standing side by side at his computer. Every time he leaned in to point something out, Zara caught that intoxicating scent of his cologne. Every accidental brush of their hands sent sparks through her body. By the time they headed to the boardroom, she was wound tighter than a spring. The boardroom was intimidating—all dark wood and leather, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. Twelve board members sat around the massive table, including Harrison, who gave Zara a dismissive look when she entered. "Ladies and gentlemen," Caspian said, taking his place at the head of the table. "Ms. Delacroix has completed the merger audit I requested. Her findings are... significant." Zara connected her laptop to the presentation system, her hands steady despite the gravity of what she was about to do. "Good morning. What I'm about to show you will fundamentally change your understanding of Meridian Marketing's financial position." She launched into her presentation with the confidence born of absolute certainty in her data. As she revealed the shell accounts, the offshore holdings, the systematic embezzlement, she watched Harrison's face go from smug to confused to ash-gray. "This is preposterous!" he finally exploded, shooting to his feet. "These are baseless accusations! You can't possibly—" "Sit down, Harrison." Caspian's voice was deadly quiet. "She has receipts. Literally." Zara pulled up the smoking gun—emails from Harrison's account directing the fraudulent transfers, complete with metadata proving their authenticity. The room erupted. Board members shouted questions, Harrison tried to storm out only to find security waiting in the hallway, and through it all, Caspian watched Zara with an expression of pride that made her stand even taller. Two hours later, it was over. Harrison was in custody, the board had approved a complete restructuring of Meridian's leadership, and Zara had been officially offered the SVP position. "Celebrate with me," Caspian said as the boardroom emptied. "One drink. You've earned it." "It's eleven in the morning." "It's five o'clock somewhere. Besides, we just saved the company millions and sent a criminal to jail. If that doesn't deserve champagne, I don't know what does." Against her better judgment, Zara followed him to his office. He produced a bottle of Dom PĂŠrignon from a hidden refrigerator and popped the cork with practiced ease. "To the most brilliant forensic analysis I've ever seen," he said, handing her a glass. "To new beginnings," she countered. They clinked glasses, eyes locked over the rims. The champagne was perfect—crisp, cold, with just enough bite. But it was nothing compared to the intoxication of Caspian's undivided attention. "You were magnificent in there," he said, moving closer. "The way you handled Harrison's outburst, the clarity of your presentation... I've never seen anything like it." "I had good data to work with." Her voice came out breathier than intended. "Don't deflect. Take the compliment." He was standing too close now, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his whiskey eyes. "You're exceptional, Zara. Brilliant, beautiful, and absolutely forbidden." "You said we were keeping things professional." "We are." But his hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheekbone. "This is me being professional. If I were being unprofessional, I'd do this." He kissed her. The world exploded. His mouth was hot and demanding against hers, one hand tangling in her hair while the other pulled her against him. Zara melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt as he backed her against his desk. Every nerve ending in her body came alive. He kissed like he did everything else—with absolute focus and devastating skill. When his tongue swept against hers, she moaned into his mouth, and his grip on her tightened. "Fuck," he muttered against her lips. "This is a terrible idea." "The worst," she agreed, then pulled him back down for another kiss. His hands skimmed down her sides, thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts through her dress, and Zara arched into him. She'd never felt anything like this—this desperate, clawing need that threatened to consume her. The phone on his desk rang, shrill and jarring. They broke apart, both breathing hard. Zara's lipstick was smeared across Caspian's mouth, and his hair was thoroughly mussed from her fingers. "We can't do this," he said, but his hands were still on her waist. "I know." "You work for me." "I know." "It's inappropriate." "Completely." The phone kept ringing. With visible effort, he stepped back and grabbed the receiver. "Blackwood." Zara took the opportunity to put some distance between them, moving to the windows. Her reflection showed kiss-swollen lips and mussed hair. She looked thoroughly debauched from just one kiss. "I'll be right there," Caspian said into the phone. He hung up and turned to her, his expression carefully controlled. "The SEC is here about Harrison. I need to go brief them." "Of course." "Zara..." He paused, clearly struggling with what to say. "Take the rest of the day off. You've earned it. We'll start fresh tomorrow." "Fresh. Right. Completely professional." "Exactly." They stood there for a moment, the taste of champagne and each other still on their lips, the air between them charged with unresolved tension. "I should go," she said finally. "Yes." Neither moved. "Caspian—" "Don't." His voice was rough. "If you say my name like that again, I'm going to lock that door and show you exactly how unprofessional I can be." Heat flooded through her. "The SEC is waiting." "Fuck the SEC." But he didn't move toward her. Instead, he straightened his tie, ran a hand through his hair, and transformed back into the cold, controlled billionaire the world knew. "Tomorrow, Ms. Delacroix. Nine AM sharp. We have a company to rebuild." She left without another word, but she could feel the weight of his gaze following her all the way to the elevator. Chapter Four The next three weeks were torture. True to his word, Caspian kept things strictly professional. They worked side by side for hours every day, restructuring departments, interviewing replacements for the fired executives, and integrating systems. He was brilliant, demanding, and completely proper. It was driving Zara insane. Every accidental touch burned. Every shared look across the conference table felt loaded with meaning. When he rolled up his sleeves during late-night strategy sessions, she had to force herself not to stare at his forearms. When she leaned over his shoulder to look at reports, he held himself so still she could practically feel the tension radiating from him. But they didn't kiss again. They didn't even acknowledge that they had. "You're distracted," her assistant, Melody, said on a Thursday afternoon. "You've been staring at that same report for twenty minutes." Zara blinked, refocusing on the papers in front of her. "Just thinking through the implications." "Uh-huh. And I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that Mr. Tall, Dark, and Devastating just walked past your office for the third time in an hour." "He has not—" Zara looked up to see Caspian indeed passing by her glass office walls. He glanced in, their eyes met for a electric moment, then he continued on. "Girl, the sexual tension between you two could power the city. Why don't you just—" "He's my boss, Mel. It's inappropriate." "So? Life's short. Hot billionaires who look at you like you're water in the desert are rare." "He does not look at me like—" "He's doing it right now." Zara's head snapped up. Caspian was standing in her doorway, that carefully controlled expression on his face. "Ms. Delacroix. My office. Five minutes." He was gone before she could respond. "See?" Melody said. "Water in the desert." Zara found him standing by his windows when she arrived, jacket off, tension in every line of his body. "Close the door," he said without turning around. She did, her heart beginning to race. "Is everything all right?" "No." He turned to face her, and the look in his eyes made her breath catch. "Everything is not all right. I can't concentrate. I can't sleep. I can't get through a single fucking meeting without thinking about how you taste." "Caspian—" "I tried." He moved toward her, a predator stalking prey. "God knows I tried to keep this professional. But you're everywhere. In every meeting, every report, every goddamn thought in my head." "I know," she whispered. "I feel it too." "This is a bad idea. You're my employee. There are rules, protocols—" "I don't care about the rules." "You should." He was close now, backing her against the door. "I'm not a good man, Zara. I'm selfish, demanding, and I take what I want. If we do this, I won't be able to let you go." "I'm not asking you to." "You don't know what you're asking for." His hand came up to trace her jaw, and she shivered at the contact. "I'll ruin you for anyone else. I'll consume you. I don't do things halfway." "Good," she breathed. "Because neither do I." He groaned and crushed his mouth to hers. This kiss was nothing like the first—it was desperate, hungry, three weeks of pent-up desire exploding between them. His hands were everywhere, skimming down her sides, gripping her hips, tangling in her hair. Zara gave as good as she got, nipping at his lower lip, running her hands over the hard planes of his chest. When he lifted her against the door, she wrapped her legs around his waist, not caring that her skirt rode up to her thighs. "We can't do this here," he said against her throat, but his hands were already sliding under her skirt, fingers tracing the edge of her underwear. "Your office locks," she gasped as he found that sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. "There are cameras. Security." But he was already carrying her to his desk, shoving papers aside to set her on the edge. "Then take me home." He pulled back to look at her, his eyes dark with desire. "If I take you home, I'm going to fuck you until neither of us can walk. I'm going to learn every inch of your body, find every spot that makes you scream, and then I'm going to do it all over again. Is that what you want?" "Yes." The word came out as a moan. "God, yes." He kissed her again, hard and possessive. "Twenty minutes. I have to brief the Tokyo office, then I'm taking you home. And Zara? You're not going to work tomorrow." "Why not?" "Because you'll be too sore to walk." The promise in his voice made her clench with need. "Twenty minutes," she agreed. It was the longest twenty minutes of her life. Zara tried to work, but her body hummed with anticipation. Every time she shifted in her chair, she felt the dampness between her thighs, the swollen sensitivity of her lips. Finally, her phone buzzed. One word: *Now.* She practically ran to his office. He was already waiting by the door, jacket on, eyes burning with barely controlled desire. "Let's go." The elevator ride was tense, silent. They stood on opposite sides of the car, not trusting themselves to touch. But when the doors opened to the parking garage and they were finally alone, Caspian pinned her against his Tesla, kissing her until she couldn't breathe. "Get in the car before I take you right here," he growled. The drive to his penthouse was a blur of speeding through Chicago traffic while Zara tried not to spontaneously combust from anticipation. His hand gripped her thigh, thumb stroking in maddening circles that made her squirm. His building was the kind that had a doorman and private elevator access. The ride up to the penthouse felt eternal, especially with Caspian standing behind her, his breath hot against her neck. The moment his front door closed behind them, all pretense of control vanished. He spun her around, crushing her against the door as his mouth claimed hers. His hands were everywhere—unzipping her dress, unhooking her bra, sliding into her underwear to find her wet and ready. "Fuck, you're soaked," he groaned against her mouth, fingers sliding through her folds. "Is this what I do to you?" "You know it is," she gasped, rocking against his hand. "Three weeks of foreplay will do that." He lifted her easily, carrying her through his penthouse to what had to be the master bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering Chicago skyline, but Zara only had eyes for him as he laid her on his massive bed. "You're overdressed," she said, reaching for his tie. "Patience." He caught her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. "I've been thinking about this for three weeks. I'm going to take my time." He started at her throat, kissing and nipping his way down her body. When he reached her breasts, he lavished attention on each nipple until she was writhing beneath him. His free hand skimmed down her stomach, teasing along the edge of her underwear. "Please," she gasped. "Please what?" He looked up at her, eyes dark with desire. "Tell me what you want." "Touch me. I need—" She broke off with a moan as he slid her underwear aside and stroked through her wetness. "Like this?" He circled her clit with his thumb, making her buck against his hand. "Yes, god, yes." He released her wrists to pull her underwear off completely, spreading her legs wide. "You're perfect," he said, voice rough with desire. "I'm going to devour you." And he did. His mouth was hot and skilled, tongue finding every sensitive spot while his fingers worked inside her. Zara's hands fisted in his hair as he drove her higher and higher, until she was teetering on the edge of release. "That's it," he murmured against her. "Come for me, Zara. I want to feel you fall apart." One more stroke of his tongue and she shattered, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over her. He worked her through it, not letting up until she was trembling with aftershocks. "Beautiful," he said, kissing his way back up her body. "But we're just getting started." She reached for his shirt, needing to feel his skin against hers. "Too many clothes." He let her undress him, watching with dark eyes as she revealed his body. He was gorgeous—all lean muscle and golden skin, with a scattering of dark hair across his chest. When she freed his cock from his pants, her mouth went dry. He was impressive, thick and hard and perfect. "Like what you see?" he asked with a cocky grin. "Stop fishing for compliments and kiss me." He laughed and obliged, settling between her thighs. She could feel him hard against her, and she rocked up, seeking friction. "Condom," he said against her mouth. "Nightstand." She reached over, fumbling in the drawer while he kissed her neck. Once he was sheathed, he positioned himself at her entrance, eyes locked on hers. "Last chance to back out," he said. "After this, you're mine." "I've been yours since you insulted my skirt," she said, wrapping her legs around him. "Now stop talking and fuck me." He thrust into her in one smooth motion, and they both groaned at the sensation. He was big, stretching her perfectly, and when he started to move, Zara saw stars. "So tight," he gritted out, setting a steady rhythm. "So perfect. Fuck, Zara, you feel incredible." She couldn't form words, could only moan and meet his thrusts. He shifted the angle, hitting that spot inside her that made her cry out, and picked up the pace. "That's it," he said, watching her face. "I can feel you getting close again. Come on my cock, baby. I want to feel you squeeze me." His words pushed her over the edge. She came with a scream, her body clenching around him as pleasure whited out her vision. He fucked her through it, then followed her over, her name on his lips as he found his own release. They lay tangled together afterward, both breathing hard. Caspian traced lazy patterns on her skin, pressing kisses to her shoulder. "Stay," he said quietly. "Tonight. Tomorrow. As long as you want." "What about keeping things professional?" "Fuck professional. I want you in my bed, in my life, in every way possible." He propped himself up on an elbow to look at her. "I meant what I said earlier. I don't do things halfway. If we do this, I want all of you." Zara traced her fingers over his chest, feeling his heart beat strong beneath her palm. "I want all of you too. But what about work? The board? HR will have a field day." "I don't give a fuck about HR. You're brilliant at your job. That won't change because we're sleeping together." He paused. "Will it?" "Of course not. If anything, I'll work harder to prove I earned my position on merit, not because I'm fucking the boss." "You did earn it on merit. You saved the company millions. Anyone who suggests otherwise will answer to me." His voice turned dangerous on that last part. "My protective billionaire," she teased. "Yours," he agreed, pulling her in for another kiss. "All yours." They made love twice more that night, slower and more exploratory. Caspian mapped every inch of her body with his hands and mouth, learning what made her gasp, what made her moan, what made her scream his name. By the time they finally slept, tangled together in his massive bed, Zara felt thoroughly claimed in the best possible way. Chapter Five Morning came with sunlight streaming through the windows and the smell of coffee. Zara stretched, deliciously sore, and found Caspian watching her with soft eyes. "Morning," she said, voice rough with sleep. "Morning, beautiful." He handed her a mug of perfectly prepared coffee. "How do you feel about playing hooky today?" "I thought you didn't believe in days off." "I've recently discovered something more appealing than work." His hand skimmed down her bare back. "You." They spent the day in bed, alternating between making love and talking. Zara learned that Caspian's ruthless exterior hid a man who'd built himself from nothing, who'd grown up poor and fought for every success. He learned about her time in foster care, her drive to never depend on anyone else, her secret dream of running her own company one day. "So do it," he said simply when she confessed that last part. "Start your own firm. I'll be your first investor." "Just like that?" "Why not? You're brilliant, driven, and you have the best business mentor in Chicago." He grinned at her eye roll. "I'm serious. The corporate world needs more people like you—people who see through the bullshit and get results." "Maybe someday," she said, but the seed was planted. They ordered Thai food for lunch, Chinese for dinner, and made love on every surface of his penthouse. By the time Monday rolled around, they'd established a new normal—professional at the office, passionate everywhere else. It worked beautifully for exactly one week. "We have a problem," Caspian said, storming into her office the following Monday. "Good morning to you too," Zara said, looking up from her computer. "What's wrong?" "Harrison's lawyers are claiming the evidence you found was obtained illegally. They're trying to get it thrown out." "That's bullshit. I had full access authorization." "I know. But they're making noise about bias, saying I hired my girlfriend to fabricate evidence." He ran a hand through his hair. "Someone leaked that we're together." Zara's stomach dropped. They'd been so careful at the office, maintaining complete professionalism. "Who?" "I don't know. But the board is asking questions. We need to get ahead of this." "What do you want me to do?" "Nothing. I'll handle the board. You keep doing your job brilliantly." He moved around her desk to pull her into his arms. "This doesn't change anything between us." "Doesn't it? If the board thinks I'm just sleeping my way to the top—" "Stop." His voice was firm. "Anyone who's worked with you for five minutes knows that's not true. You're the most competent person in this building, including me." "Caspian—" He silenced her with a kiss. "Trust me. I'll fix this." But as the week progressed, things got worse. The financial press picked up the story, running headlines about the "billionaire and his bedmate" and questioning the legitimacy of the merger audit. Zara found herself under a microscope, every decision scrutinized, every success attributed to her relationship with Caspian rather than her skills. "I should resign," she said Thursday night, curled up on his couch. "It would make things easier for you." "Absolutely not." He pulled her closer. "We weather this together." "But the board—" "Can go fuck themselves if they think I'm letting you go. You're the best thing that's happened to this company—and to me." Friday morning, everything came to a head. Zara walked into the office to find an emergency board meeting in progress, and her badge wouldn't let her into the executive floor. "I'm sorry, Ms. Delacroix," the security guard said, looking uncomfortable. "Orders from the board. You're on administrative leave pending an investigation." "Investigation of what?" "I don't know, ma'am. I'm just following orders." Zara's phone rang. Caspian. "Don't leave," he said without preamble. "I'm handling this. Go to my office and wait." "My badge won't—" "I'm fixing it now. Two minutes." Sure enough, her badge worked moments later. She made her way to his office, anxiety churning in her stomach. What the hell was happening? She could hear raised voices from the boardroom as she passed. Caspian's voice rose above the rest, cold and furious in a way she'd never heard before. An hour later, he returned to his office, looking like he'd been through a war. "It's handled," he said, pulling her into his arms. "What happened?" "Harrison's lawyers got to some of the board members, convinced them the audit was biased because of our relationship. They wanted to fire you and redo the entire investigation." "And?" "And I reminded them that I own forty-three percent of this company, and if they fired the woman who saved us twelve million dollars because she happens to be dating me, I'd fire every last one of them." He kissed her forehead. "I also pointed out that we weren't together when you did the audit, which shut down their bias argument." "You threatened the entire board for me?" "I'd burn this whole company down for you," he said simply. "But I didn't have to. Once they looked at the facts instead of the gossip, they realized how ridiculous they were being. You're no longer on leave, and Harrison's lawyers can go fuck themselves." Zara kissed him, pouring all her gratitude and love into the contact. "Thank you." "Don't thank me. You earned your place here." He cupped her face. "But this is going to keep happening. The press, the gossip, the people who can't believe a woman can be both brilliant and beautiful. Can you handle that?" "As long as I have you? I can handle anything." "Good. Because I have a proposition for you." He moved to his desk, pulling out a folder. "I want you to run the new Chicago office of Blackwood Industries' venture capital division. You'd be investing in startups, mentoring entrepreneurs, building the next generation of businesses." Zara's breath caught. "That's... that's exactly what I want to do." "I know. And you'd be brilliant at it. Plus, it would put you in a different reporting structure—you'd report to the venture board, not to me. No more conflict of interest." "You created an entire division so we could date without HR having a heart attack?" "I created an entire division because you're too talented to waste on integration work, and because I'm selfish enough to want to keep you in my life without complications." He grinned. "The dating benefit is just a bonus." She threw her arms around him. "Yes. God, yes." "There's one more thing." He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket, and Zara's heart stopped. "I know it's fast. I know we've only been together a month. But when you know, you know." He opened the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring, elegant and perfect. "Zara Delacroix, you've turned my world upside down in the best possible way. You challenge me, inspire me, and make me want to be a better man. Will you marry me?" Zara stared at the ring, then at him, seeing the vulnerability beneath his confident exterior. This man who'd built walls around himself for years was offering her everything. "We've known each other six weeks," she said softly. "And I've loved you for five of them." "The press will have a field day." "Let them. I don't care what anyone thinks but you." "Your board will think you've lost your mind." "Probably. Is that a yes?" She laughed, tears streaming down her face. "Yes, you impossible man. Yes." He slipped the ring onto her finger and kissed her until they were both breathless. When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. "I love you," he said. "Desperately. Completely. Forever." "I love you too. Even when you're an insufferable workaholic who insults my clothes." "That skirt was perfectly professional," he admitted. "I was just trying not to bend you over my desk in that first meeting." "I would have let you." "Don't tell me that now when we have a company to run." But his hands were already sliding under her blouse. "The company can wait an hour." "Just an hour?" She grinned. "Maybe two." He locked the office door and showed her exactly how unprofessional they could be. Epilogue – One Year Later "Mrs. Blackwood, your 3 o'clock is here." Zara looked up from the business plan she was reviewing and smiled. She still wasn't used to the name change, but she loved hearing it. "Send them in, Melody." Her assistant—who'd moved with her to the venture division—grinned. "Will do, boss." The entrepreneur who entered was nervous, clutching her portfolio like a lifeline. Zara remembered that feeling, the desperation to succeed, to prove yourself. That's why she loved this job—she got to give other women the chances she'd fought so hard for. "Ms. Chen, please sit. Tell me about your company." An hour later, Zara had agreed to invest two million in the woman's sustainable fashion startup. The look of joy and disbelief on Ms. Chen's face made every challenge of the past year worth it. Her phone buzzed with a text from Caspian: *Dinner at 8? I made reservations at that new place you wanted to try.* *Can't. Working late on the Singapore deal.* *The Singapore deal can wait. I have a surprise for you.* *The last time you had a surprise, I ended up married to you.* *And you loved it. 8 PM, Mrs. Blackwood. Wear that red dress I like.* *Bossy.* *You love that too.* She did. God help her, she loved everything about her impossible, demanding, brilliant husband. At exactly 8 PM, she walked into the restaurant to find Caspian waiting at a private table, looking devastating in a black suit. "You're late," he said, standing to kiss her. "By thirty seconds." "Still late." He pulled out her chair. "How was your day?" "Invested in two new companies, mentored three founders, and saved the world. You?" "Fired three incompetent executives, acquired a tech company, and missed my wife." He took her hand, thumb rubbing over her wedding ring. "I like the red dress." "I noticed. Your eyes did that thing." "What thing?" "That hungry thing that makes me want to skip dinner." "Don't tempt me." But his eyes were doing the thing again. They made it through appetizers before Caspian's hand found her thigh under the table. Through entrees before his fingers traced higher, finding the edge of her underwear. "We're in public," she hissed, even as she shifted to give him better access. "Private table. No one can see." His fingers slipped under the lace. "You're wet." "I'm always wet around you." "Good." He stroked her slowly, casually, while carrying on a conversation about quarterly projections. Only the slight hitch in his voice when she clenched around his fingers gave away what was happening under the tablecloth. "You're evil," she gasped, trying to keep her expression neutral as he found her clit. "You love it." She did. She loved his intensity, his demand for excellence, the way he could make her fall apart with just a touch. She loved the man who'd threatened his entire board for her, who'd built her dream job, who still looked at her like she hung the moon. "Take me home," she said when she couldn't stand it anymore. "Dessert first." His fingers moved faster. "Come for me, wife. Quietly. Prove you can follow orders." She bit her lip hard as her orgasm crashed over her, gripping the table to keep from crying out. He worked her through it, then calmly returned his hand to the table as if he hadn't just fingered her to completion in a Michelin-starred restaurant. "I hate you," she said without heat. "I love you too. Ready for dessert?" "I'm ready to go home so I can return the favor." His eyes darkened. "Check, please." They barely made it to the car before Caspian had her pressed against the side, kissing her like a starving man. "One year," he said against her mouth. "One year married to you and I still can't get enough." "Good thing you have a lifetime to try." "Not long enough." He opened the car door. "But I'll take it." As they drove home through the glittering Chicago night, Zara reflected on how much had changed in a year. She ran a successful division, had a loving if demanding husband, and had found a life she never dared dream of. All because she'd worn a perfectly professional pencil skirt to a meeting with a billionaire who couldn't keep his eyes off her legs. "What are you thinking about?" Caspian asked, taking her hand. "That navy skirt. I still have it, you know." "Do you now?" His voice dropped an octave. "Interesting." "I thought you might think so." "Wear it tomorrow." "To the office?" "Definitely to the office." He brought her hand to his lips. "I have some fantasies to fulfill." "It's been a year. Haven't we fulfilled all your fantasies by now?" "Baby, we're just getting started." As they pulled into their building's garage, Zara smiled. A lifetime of Caspian Blackwood's fantasies? She could definitely handle that. After all, she'd always been good at exceeding expectations. THE END