RAQUEL’S POV

Ding.

The elevator signals as it halts on the last floor—the top of Terran Motors, where the CEO’s office looms like a throne room.

Today is my first official day on this so-called mission. My “spy duty,” as Kai so arrogantly called it.

I still don’t know how he pulled it off, but somehow he hacked into their system, applied on my behalf, and got me this job. Temporary secretary to Davis Walter, the rival of my own husband.

It feels wrong. Sneaky. Dangerous. And yet, my curiosity burns hotter than my fear. I don’t just want my job back at K.A. anymore—I want answers. Kai swore that Terran Motors stole his design, but something in me refuses to take his word as gospel. Terran may not be the best, but they’re far from desperate. Why would they stoop so low?

Unless Kai is lying.

And I’m here to find out.

I stop before a wide door stamped boldly with CEO. My palms are sweaty against the folder clutched to my chest. I knock softly. No response. My breath catches, but I push the door open anyway.

The office is enormous—sleek glass walls overlooking the glittering veins of New York City, every inch dripping with wealth and power. It’s extravagant, polished… everything Kai’s office isn’t. Where Kai’s space is dark, cold, and brooding, this place screams charm and allure.

Davis stands at the window, his tall frame outlined by the skyline, hands tucked casually in his pockets like he owns the world.

I draw in a breath. “Good morning, Mr. Walter.”

He turns slowly at the sound of my voice. His gaze drifts over me—calculated, assessing—before his eyes lock with mine. Expressionless, unreadable. Then he moves toward his desk, picking up a document with deliberate slowness.

Something in his stare makes my stomach tighten.

“Good morning, Mr. Walter. My name is Raqu....”

“Raquel Milton,” he cuts me off smoothly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

I freeze, but quickly school my features. Thank God I haven’t legally changed my name to Rodriguez yet. A mental note to do that after this mission.

“Yes, sir. I’m your new substitute secretary.”

He clicks his fingers as if remembering. “Right. Yes.” He glances briefly at the file in his hand—my file.

Then he begins to approach me, step by step. “I look forward to an amazing… professional relationship with you, Raquel.”

His voice is warm, but his eyes linger too long.

I force a polite smile. “It would be an honor working with you, sir.”

Without warning, his hand rises, fingertips brushing along my cheek. A light touch, but enough to make my body jolt.

“I hate tension between myself and those close to me. So—drop the formalities.”He voice sounds, close to my ear.

Panic claws at me. My body trembles despite my effort to hold still. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes—not from fear of him, but from hating this reaction. This weakness.

I step back quickly, bowing my head to hide my shaking voice. “I’ll go get your coffee, sir.” And before he can reply, I rush out.

The kitchen is mercifully empty. I grip the counter, exhaling a shaky breath. I hate this vulnerable side of me, the part that loses control under unwanted touches. It’s pathetic, and I despise it.

Forcing myself to focus, I prepare two cups—one for him, one for me. Mine goes down in a gulp willing strength back into my spine, then carry his to the office.

He’s on the phone when I enter, back turned, his voice low and commanding. Spanish.

My pulse spikes. Growing up in Spain with Grandpa was an advantage, so every word lands sharp and clear. And what I hear makes my blood run cold.

Setting the cup down quietly, but then he turns, catching me. For a second, his eyes widen—surprise? Worry? Then it vanishes behind his trademark smile.

“Thanks,” he says, gesturing at the coffee.

Before I can respond, a knock sounds. A tall blonde in a tight red dress steps in. She looks like she walked straight off a runway—gorgeous, composed, and instantly hostile.

“Raquel, meet Kaylee, head of management. Kaylee, this is my new secretary,” Walter introduces.

Kaylee’s eyes narrow, assessing me like I’m an intruder. I refuse to flinch, meeting her gaze head-on, a silent challenge.

Davis’s voice slices through the tension. “Kaylee will show you the ropes, Raquel. Give her a tour.”

Kaylee dips her head in acknowledgment, before walking out, my legs quickly pick up a pace and follow her out. But just before the door closes, Davis’s voice stops me.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Raquel.” His tone is… genuine.

Head tilt up and down faintly, offering a small smile, and step away.

Inside the elevator, the air is suffocating. Kaylee types furiously on her phone, but it’s not the same one she carried earlier. My instincts flare. She catches me watching and shoots me a glare sharp enough to cut glass. I swallow and look away. The last thing I need is to raise suspicion.

The rest of the day drags in a blur. Kaylee dumps endless paperwork on me, her thinly veiled disdain evident in every order. No tour, no guidance—just a steady stream of tasks meant to break me down.

By the time I reach the parking lot, exhaustion drapes over me like a heavy coat. Kenzo is already waiting, leaning against the car. He straightens, opens the door with mock formality.

My eyes rolls back and forth as slide in. “Always the gentleman.”

He chuckles as he starts the engine. “Tough day, huh?”

My eyes shut close, with me sinking into the seat. “You have no idea.”

But even as we drive, my thoughts circle back to Walter’s phone call. To the Spanish words that dripped like poison from his tongue. Was Kai right all along? Or is this just the ugly side of business—clients stolen, promises broken, wars fought in silence?

One thing is certain: I have to tell Kai. He sent me here for answers, and I’ve found enough to confirm that something is wrong.

*****

Back at the manor, My knuckles knock on Kai’s bedroom door, but I get no response. My Palm press on the door gently, pushing it open

His room is a world of its own—black and red, unsettling and intense. The walls are reflective glass, every surface catching fragments of my face like mirrors in a funhouse. A crimson chandelier spills light across the space, glowing like heated iron.

At the center sits his massive black bed, dominating the room like a predator lying in wait.

The air smells of him—cinnamon and mint, sharp and addictive.

Water pours somewhere. The shower. He’s inside.

Curiosity tugs me deeper. My fingers trail along the edges of furniture, glossy surfaces catching my reflection again and again until I don’t know which image is mine and which belongs to the room.

Then my back bumps a door. It creaks open before I can stop it

I freeze. Slowly, I turn.

A hidden room.

I step inside. Paintings line the walls, breathtakingly beautiful—waterfalls crashing, sunsets bleeding across the horizon, snowflakes falling in frozen silence. Nature, captured in brush strokes so vivid it feels alive.

But one painting stops me cold.

A girl.

She’s wearing a wedding gown, holding a bouquet of roses. Her emerald green eyes glow with joy, her smile radiant, unshakable. She’s stunning.

And human. The only human painting in the room.

My heart stutters. Who is she? His ex? His secret lover? His wife?

Is she the reason he hates commitment? The reason he hides his heart behind rules and ice?

I move closer, drawn in, fingertips lifting to brush the painted curve of her cheek. Her eyes seem to stare back into mine, so alive it hurts.

And then,

“What are you doing here?!”

The voice is a growl, sharp enough to cut me in half.

My legs whirl around.

Kai stands in the doorway, damp hair dripping down his temple, blue eyes blazing with fury.

His voice hits me like a wave. My lips part, but words vanish. I can’t even remember why I came here in the first place.