I never asked to inherit my father's crumbling empire.
The family office suffocates me-ink-stained desks, sawdust grit underfoot, his shadow everywhere.
I fight for scraps of freedom, teeth bared against the control that raised me.
But deep down? I ache for someone stronger to pin me down. To own me.

Then there's him.
My father's oldest friend.
The one who's stood like a wall at every family crisis, his gravel voice steadying the chaos.
He's twice my age, carved from years of loyalty and quiet power.
And now, every glance across those blueprints hits like a fist-his eyes stripping me bare before his hands even move.

It starts with sweat-soaked paper crumpling between us.
Fingers brushing. Breath hitching.
Next, a locked conference room where mirrors catch every thrust, every gasp, my body arched and begging under his weight.
Tangled limbs by cabin firelight later, his mouth claiming skin no one else has touched.
Wrong. Filthy. Perfect.
He's my ruin wrapped in the man I can't lose.

Loyalty to my father chains him.
Desire for me snaps it.
One slip, and the legacy shatters-his friendship with Dad, my place in the bloodline, gone.
He's the only one who sees the fire in me, the girl starving for possession.
But if we burn too hot, what survives the ashes?