Eva’s POV

I came to destroy him.

That was the plan. Always the plan. No change.

But there I was, lying on cold marble, my dress wrinkled around my waist, my lipstick smeared across my chin, and his cum still dripping between my thighs—and I couldn’t breathe properly. My chest heaved. My skin was flushed. My thoughts were scattered.

And worst of all?

I wanted him again.

I sat up slowly, careful not to look at him, and smoothed my dress back down. My legs were shaking, my thighs still throbbing from the way he’d taken me. Fucked me like I was a toy he’d paid for and planned to break. Like he’d earned the right to ruin me.

I hated how much I liked it.

I hated that I’d let him flip me over like I was his. I hated how I gave him my mouth, my neck, my body.

But I hated myself more for needing it.

Xavier Argent.

CEO. Shark. Destroyer of reputations.

And now, the man I had to seduce all over again if I wanted to finish what I came here for.

He watched me dress, leaning against the island like he hadn’t just wrecked me in every possible way. His shirt hung open, the sweat on his abs still catching the light. Smug bastard. I could still feel the sting of where his teeth had left bruises on my collarbone.

“Round two?” he asked, voice gravel-thick.

I buttoned the top of my dress and slipped on my heels. “Tempting. But I’m not that easy.”

His grin said he didn’t believe me.

He shouldn’t.

But that didn’t mean I’d let him win.

“I’m not a toy you can fuck between meetings,” I said.

He chuckled darkly. “No. You’re a fucking weapon. I know that”

I turned toward the elevator. “Good. Because I came here to kill.”

I didn’t mean to say that last part aloud. Not all of it. Not like that. But the heat between my legs, the sting of his palm on my ass—it all clouded the edges of my restraint.

He didn’t respond right away. But I felt the shift in the air. His presence darkened behind me, like a storm gathering in a glass tower.

“You’re full of surprises,” he said slowly.

“You have no idea,” I whispered under my breath.

The elevator doors opened, and I stepped in without looking back.

I went straight to my apartment, stripped everything off, and turned the shower to full blast. The water burned against my skin, but it wasn’t enough to wash him off me. Not the smell of him. Not the bruises he left. Not the sick, twisted craving building inside me.

I pressed my hands against the wall and let the water run down my back. The mirror in the bathroom fogged over, hiding my reflection.

Good.

Because I wasn’t ready to look at myself. Not yet.

This wasn’t supposed to happen so soon. He wasn’t supposed to remember me. One night years ago in the dark—it should’ve stayed buried. But the tattoo on my hip ruined everything.

When he saw it, I saw something flash in his eyes.

Recognition. And hunger.

Like he’d been starving for years and just realized I was the feast.

That night wasn’t something I planned to use. It was a glitch. A moment of weakness I thought I’d buried with the pain of watching my father crumble under Xavier’s corporate heel.

But now? It was leverage.

I stepped out of the shower and toweled off, then went straight to the closet and grabbed the sleek black lockbox at the back. Inside were copies of my father’s old case files. Contracts. Whistleblower documents. Letters of warning that were ignored. All the pieces I’d collected over the past two years. Everything I had at the moment.

I flipped through them quickly, eyes burning.

Xavier Argent had buried the scandal. Paid off regulators. Let my father take the fall and resign him to early retirement and humiliation. He destroyed him. Quietly. Efficiently.

My job now? Return the favor.

And if I had to keep riding his cock until he handed me the key to the kingdom?

So be it. I’ll do just that.

But I couldn’t slip. Couldn’t let the heat confuse the mission. He was dangerous—and not just because of what he did to my father.

He was dangerous because my body still responded to him like it had no memory of why I hated him in the first place.

That kind of sex? It wasn’t casual.

It was possession.

And I couldn’t afford to be owned

I pulled my laptop out from the drawer and opened the encrypted folder I’d been building. I had just enough evidence to cast doubt on his reputation, but not enough to bring him down. Not yet. I needed access to internal records—emails, offshore payments, anything he thought he’d buried under shell companies and NDAs.

And I knew exactly where I’d find it.

On his laptop.

In his office.

I’d already memorized the layout of the executive floor during my tour. I knew his schedule. I knew when he left the building, when he held meetings, when he locked the system for the day.

What I needed now was time. And sex gave me that.

He wanted me again. I could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way he lost control inside me. He’d chase me for more. Let me close. Trust me.

And that trust would be the nail in his coffin.

I closed the laptop and lay back on the bed, still damp from the shower. My fingers slid to the place he’d left sore, wet, and open.

I closed my eyes and replayed everything.

His grip.

His voice.

His cock.

I couldn’t help but feel myself getting aroused, my nipples getting hard as I remember everything that just happened and get wet all over again— shouldn’t be so.

Then I whispered to myself, “ This is only the beginning.”