Kirah's POV
It was Monday.
A day she usually met with crisp resolve and calm efficiency.
But today, Kirah Evans was meeting it with layered armor—mentally, emotionally, and professionally. She'd spent the entire Sunday wrapping her family in the joy of their new apartment, hiding the truth that she'd emptied every corner of her savings account to make it happen. Now she was back to reality. Back to the building where her boss had tasted her body and walked away like it meant absolutely nothing.
Not that she cared.
At least, that's what she repeated to herself with every step she took.
Her black tailored pants hugged her hips with a quiet confidence, and her crisp white blouse was perfectly pressed. She carried a new bag—modest, clean—and inside it sat a copy of the report she'd edited at 2 a.m., a protein bar, and her cracked phone charger. All signs of someone who was used to getting things done, with or without help.
The elevator gave a soft ding and the doors slid open. She walked in, alone. Perfect.
Her new heels clicked against the polished floor—elegant, sharp, and solid.
Just like her resolve.
She wasn't going to speak to Dominic unless it was absolutely necessary. She wasn't going to respond to the smirk he sometimes wore when he caught her eyes across the meeting table. She wasn't going to fall into the trap of wondering what it meant—if he cared. If that night had meant something.
No.
She had a role to play. And it paid well—too well to be distracted.
As Internal Consultant overseeing Security Intelligence and Personnel Integrity, her job meant constantly scanning the company's underbelly, watching patterns, detecting leaks and red flags. She wasn't here to flirt her way to the top or fantasize about a man who couldn't keep his dick in his pants. No matter how powerful his last kiss still felt in the hollow of her chest.
She paused as she reached her office door.
Something was on the floor. A small black box with a golden ribbon and a cream tag that simply read: For the girl who never needed fixing ".
Her brows pinched. Carefully, she picked it up, glancing around—no one in sight.
Inside was a pair of stunning heels. Elegant. Sleek. In her size. The brand was expensive—too expensive. Not the kind of thing anyone at work would casually gift.
She blinked.
"Who the hell... goshh...
A thousand thoughts flickered through her mind. Was this some HR joke? A bribe? A weird attempt from some secret admirer? But something in the handwriting… the phrasing… felt familiar.
Her stomach flipped.
Dominic?
No. He wouldn't.
…Would he?
She stared at the shoes a little longer, her heart thudding with confusion. No man had ever bought her shoes. Or anything, really. She'd always been the giver—giving to her family, giving time to her job, giving pieces of herself to the world while receiving almost nothing in return.
She set the box gently on her desk.
Then pulled out her phone.
"Naya?" she whispered into the receiver when her best friend picked up.
"Kirah? You're calling me this early? You okay?"
"I'm inviting you over."
There was a pause. "Wait, the new apartment?! Girl, you serious?"
"I am. You should come tonight."
"Hell yes! What changed your mind so fast?"
Kirah glanced down at the heels again. "I don't know… I just… feel like I need to see someone that actually knows me."
---
Dominic's POV
He had stared at the clock since 5:46 a.m.
Dominic Vierra didn't usually watch time. Time obeyed him. His days moved according to his will. But this morning, the seconds crawled. The traffic lights mocked him. The espresso machine took too long. Even his secretary, who normally prattled off his day's schedule like a robot, seemed to slow down on purpose.
He ignored most of her words.
He was only listening for one thing.
"Kirah Evans has a 9 a.m. report drop—"
"There," he said, standing abruptly. "Cancel my 9 a.m. I'll be reviewing internal reports myself."
The woman blinked. "Sir?"
But Dominic was already out the door.
He didn't want to send for Kirah. Not like a man who expected her to obey because of a title or power. He wanted to see her naturally, maybe in the hallway, the elevator, or at the security data room.
But fate seemed to be testing his restraint.
He passed her office twice without pausing. He didn't see her.
The shoes had been delivered—he made sure of that. A subtle gesture. Not grand. But enough. He didn't sign his name, but the note should be enough for someone as sharp as Kirah.
Was it too much? Too little?
He stepped into the executive lounge and leaned against the marble counter, sipping the espresso he hadn't finished earlier.
"Stop being a coward," he muttered to himself. "You run one of the most powerful companies on the continent, and you can't say three human words to a woman?"
But it wasn't just any woman.
It was Kirah.
She was unlike anyone he'd ever met. She didn't chase him. Didn't ask for attention. Didn't pretend to be who she wasn't. And maybe that's why she drove him insane.
He took out his phone, staring at her name in his contacts.
He had never called her outside work before. But today, he just wanted to hear her voice.
He hovered his thumb over the call button.
Then stopped.
No. He was going to do this right. Not as her boss. Not with demands. He was going to speak to her. Not just to tame the hunger clawing at him—but to be seen by her. Understood. Maybe even forgiven.
And if she walked past his office today without glancing his way?
He'd follow her.
Because one night wasn't enough. And this silence? This punishment? He couldn't take it anymore.
"God could you fucking help me to make this right?" ....