The night air was cool and crisp as I leaned back in my leather chair, the faint hum of the city vibrating through the thick glass windows of my place . Dinner had been a brief affair-just enough to satiate my hunger before my mind wandered back to her.
Amara Ashford.
The open screen in front of me was filled with information about her-an extensive dossier I'd pulled up the moment I got back. Articles, interviews, photographs, achievements. I scrolled through the wealth of information, my eyes lingering on each picture. There she was, poised and confident, her dark eyes glinting with something untouchable. That same air of self-assured dominance had been present tonight, evident in the way she walked, spoke, even stood still.
A particular article caught my attention. It detailed her journey-an orphan with no family, no connections, who had built her empire entirely on her own. She had started from nothing, clawing her way up to the top, and now she ruled over a multinational company with an iron fist.
And that assistant of hers-Vincenzo, or "Enzo," as I now knew-was her right-hand man. Loyal, efficient, and sharp. The two of them had a dynamic that intrigued me. I couldn't quite place it-perhaps because Enzo seemed to enjoy toeing the line between assistant and equal.
Then, the detail that truly struck me: her age.
"She's only twenty-three," I murmured, leaning back into my chair.
Twenty-three, and already a force of nature.
The screen displayed a slideshow of her photos-some from tonight's event, others from past interviews and appearances. Each captured her in a way that seemed almost deliberate, as though she knew exactly how to control the narrative around her. Yet there was an authenticity to her confidence, an undeniable magnetism that felt raw and unyielding.
I smirked, tilting my head as I studied her face on the screen. Her sharp features, the curve of her lips as she delivered one of those sarcastic quips. That look of defiance when she narrowed her eyes at me tonight.
I couldn't help it-my mind replayed the events of the evening. The way she had stood on that stage, radiating power and authority, addressing the crowd with a voice that carried like a symphony of command. And then, afterward, the way she had sparred with me verbally, never once breaking her stride.
She had glanced at me only sparingly, her responses laced with sarcasm, her tone sharp enough to cut. And yet, despite her apparent indifference, there was something in the way she carried herself, something that felt like a deliberate challenge.
As I turned my chair to face the sprawling skyline, my thoughts drifted further. I had checked her company's financials-pristine. Her management style-precise. The award she had received tonight? Completely deserved.
But it wasn't just her accomplishments that fascinated me. No, it was something deeper. Something that went beyond admiration.
I chuckled softly, shaking my head as I swirled the glass of whiskey in my hand.
In all my years, I had never thought about a woman this much. Not once. Not until tonight.
And yet, here I was, replaying every word, every look, every gesture. She was an enigma, a puzzle I couldn't ignore.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk as I stared at her profile on the screen. Her confidence, her ambition, her relentless drive-all of it mirrored my own. She had an aura that rivaled mine, a presence that commanded attention without demanding it.
Was this what obsession felt like?
The thought came unbidden, but I didn't shy away from it. If this was obsession, it was unlike anything I'd ever known. It wasn't suffocating or chaotic-it was electric, thrilling.
"My Moon," I whispered to myself, the words slipping from my lips like a secret.
The name felt right, as though it had been carved out of some ancient truth. She was luminous, commanding the tides with her every move. Yet she remained just out of reach, an untouchable celestial body that teased with its brilliance.
I stood, walking to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. The lights stretched endlessly, a sea of movement and life, yet it all felt insignificant compared to the storm brewing inside me.
Amara Ashford.
I would have her.
Not because she was a prize to be won, but because something in her called to me, stirred something primal and unrelenting within me. She was like a mirror, reflecting the darkest and most powerful parts of me, and I couldn't look away.
The morning sun streamed through the windows of my dining area as I sipped my coffee and scrolled through my phone. The taste of perfectly brewed espresso lingered on my tongue as I glanced at the notification that had just come in.
Another deal. Stolen.
By none other than Amara Ashford.
It was the third time in an hour.
I set my coffee cup down with deliberate precision, my lips curling into an amused smirk. If it were anyone else, I'd be seething with frustration, maybe even planning their complete annihilation. But with her? I was oddly entertained, even impressed.
"How is she doing this?" I murmured to myself, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms.
She was operating with surgical precision, her every move calculated and deliberate. And instead of anger, I felt something entirely different-admiration.
After finishing my breakfast, I made my way to one of the high-security floors in the building. My team had been tasked with investigating Amara Ashford overnight, and I was eager to see what they'd uncovered.
The moment I stepped off the elevator and onto the floor, a heavy silence fell over the room. Heads turned, conversations halted, and the faint hum of computers became the only sound in the vast space.
I strode to the central desk, my footsteps echoing as my team scrambled to appear focused. I didn't often visit this floor personally-it wasn't necessary. My presence alone meant something had changed.
I sank into the chair at the head of the room, lounging lazily like a king surveying his court.
"Well?" I drawled, my voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "What's the update?"
The lead investigator, a man named Derek, stepped forward. He was a seasoned professional, but even he couldn't hide the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.
"Sir," he began, his tone respectful but laced with nervousness, "we've compiled the information we could find on Miss Ashford."
"And?" I prompted, my tone sharp, though I kept my expression impassive.
Derek hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. "Most of the details are things we've already reported-her age, her status as an orphan, her assistant Vincenzo, and her sudden rise to prominence in the business world. It's-"
"Tell me something I don't know," I interrupted, my voice low but commanding.
Derek visibly tensed. The rest of the room seemed to collectively hold its breath.
"Well, sir," he continued cautiously, "there's something... unusual. We believe she may be specifically targeting you."
I raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "Targeting me?"
"Yes," Derek said, shifting uncomfortably under my gaze. "But it doesn't seem to be about money or fame. It doesn't even appear to be personal. It's as if she's... testing you. Pushing boundaries. Challenging you."
I leaned back again, steepling my fingers as I processed this.
"And why," I asked slowly, "have I never heard of her before last night?"
Derek swallowed hard. "Because she stayed perfectly hidden until then, sir. All this information-it only became public yesterday. Almost as if it was released deliberately."
A smirk spread across my face. She wasn't just playing a game; she was orchestrating it. Every move she made was intentional, designed to provoke a response.
"She wants to get under my skin," I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.
The room stayed silent, my words hanging in the air.
Then, a thought struck me-a bold, unorthodox move that would either cement my control or push her into a corner where I could truly see what she was made of.
"Send her a collaboration deal," I said suddenly, my tone casual but firm.
The collective gasp from my team was almost comical.
Derek blinked, his professionalism faltering for a moment. "Sir, a collaboration deal? With Miss Ashford? But she's clearly-"
"I know exactly what she's doing," I said, cutting him off with a wave of my hand. "And that's precisely why I want her near me."
The room was silent again, the tension palpable.
"She wants to challenge me? Fine," I said, my voice calm but laced with authority. "Let's see how she handles an invitation to play on my field."
I stood, adjusting the cuffs of my tailored suit as I glanced at the stunned faces around me.
"Make it happen. Today."
As I walked out, I couldn't help but smile. Amara Ashford had caught my attention in a way no one else ever had. She was bold, cunning, and fearless-everything I admired and everything I sought to conquer.
And now, I was bringing her closer.