Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 31800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 159(@200wpm)___ 127(@250wpm)___ 106(@300wpm)
Clear. Blue-gray. And completely unguarded.
I’ve been looked at by hundreds of women. I’ve been wanted, hunted, worshipped.
But never like this.
Never before I even speak.
Because she doesn’t see me.
Not yet.
And I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t seen.
My father’s voice echoes in my head, and I remember one of those rare moments where he forgot his depression and self-pity long enough to warn me from following his footsteps.
Beware of women who make you forget yourself, Lykan. One moment of weakness was all it took for me.
I’d sworn never to fall into the same trap. Never to let desire override duty. Never to let a woman turn me into what my father became.
Yet here I am, hands clenched at my sides to keep from crossing the street, from touching that fire-bright hair, from tracing the curve of her smiling mouth with my thumb.
I want her.
No, actually...that’s not the right word.
I want to consume her.
I want her beneath me, those auburn strands spread across my sheets. I want to taste every inch of her skin, to feel her tremble against my mouth. I want her legs wrapped around my waist, her nails scoring my back as I drive into her.
I want to own her, possess her, mark her in ways she’d never forget.
The intensity of my reaction is disturbing.
Dangerous.
This woman, whoever she is, threatens everything I’ve built. The control. The distance. The perfect, impenetrable facade that has kept me safe all these years.
And still, I can’t look away.
She is the reason my carefully ordered life will unravel.
But I don’t know that yet.
All I know is this: I saw her. And now I cannot unsee her.
Scarlette
He’s A Wolf, Not A Shark.
That’s what I end up typing as the headline for this month’s internal HR newsletter.
Not exactly the corporate-friendly tone I’m supposed to aim for, but hey, nobody actually reads these things except maybe Joni from Payroll, and she lives for the drama. Last month I included a birthday message for a fake employee I named for “Sue Mieh” just to see if anyone would notice. No one did.
But anyway...
Wolves Are Worse Than Sharks.
I think that makes a better title, and it’s not even a lie. Sharks you can see coming. They circle. They make a splash. They come in with teeth and blood and let everyone know they’re here to eat.
But wolves?
Wolves wear three-piece suits that probably cost more than my rent. Wolves make polite conversation in elevators while calculating how to foreclose on your dreams. Wolves say things like “just exploring options” before they steal a company out from under your feet. Wolves take small business dreams and turn them into luxury condo blueprints before anyone realizes what’s happening.
And the wolf of this month’s cautionary tale?
Lykan Qahiri.
CEO. Investor. Entrepreneur.
Predator.
I’ve never met him. He doesn’t even technically work for us. But his holding company owns a scary amount of real estate in the city, even the very building our office is in. I’ve only seen him once, and even that was just a glimpse from across the lobby.
Tall. Dark. And terrifyingly composed.
I remember thinking he didn’t look like a businessman. More like a sculptor’s fever dream of one. Every inch polished, pressed, and powerful. The memory still makes my face flush hot – how utterly I’d stared while he crossed the lobby like he owned it. Which, technically, he did.
He walked like he knew no one would dare stop him. And from what I’ve heard, no one ever has.
But for all his power and all the wolfish whispers trailing behind his name, he’s nothing like—
Oh no.
I warn myself not to go to forbidden territory, but it’s too late. My brain is already halfway there, tripping over itself like it always does, every time I’m just about to think of him.
I haven’t even allowed his name to resurface in my mind, but oh, my heart...
It used to leap for joy at the thought of him, but ever since I prayed about him to God?
My eyes slowly close, and the picture of him immediately forms in my mind.
Vaughn.
My heart squeezes...and keeps squeezing as memories start trickling in.
Vaughn, with his messy hair and worn-out elbow-patched tweed jackets. Vaughn, who smiles like he knows how ridiculous he looks in his reading glasses but wears them anyway. Vaughn, who listens when I rant about data reporting errors and never makes me feel small for caring too much.
Vaughn, who I’ve been half in love with since I was sixteen and spending summers with Grandma Jackie in Chisa, following him around the bakery like a puppy while he fixed her ancient desktop computer.
Vaughn, who—
Just stop it, Scar. Stop it.
Because my heart can’t take anymore squeezing.
You prayed about this, remember?
So just chill and wait for His sign.
‘Kay?
I force my attention back on this month’s newsletter.
Focus, Scar.
If there’s one man I should be thinking of right now, it’s the kind who makes Forbes headlines for breakfast, and as much as I’m tempted to describe him as the big, bad corporate wolf that he truly is—