At Cross Empire Headquarters, the tension was sharp enough to slice through glass.

The city skyline shimmered outside Damian Cross’s office his fortress of black marble, gold accents, and silence.

Until she walked in.

Selene Vaughn.

High heels clicking, perfume rich enough to make the air heavy, her crimson lips curved into a seductive pout.

“Baby,” she purred, closing the glass door behind her. “I said I’m sorry.”

Damian didn’t even look up from his laptop. “You disappointed me, Selene.”

Her smile faltered. “I already apologized. What else do you want me to do crawl?”

He leaned back in his chair, cold and unreadable. “I thought you were bigger than...