Hartwell Enterprises.
Clara Morgan's day had been a non-stop barrage of crises. As 5 PM neared, she slumped in her chair, finally grabbing a water bottle. Beside her, Mia Su scrolled through her phone, a dreamy smile playing on her lips.
"Seriously, Mia? I've been drowning, and you're slacking off," Clara teased.
Mia pouted. "C'mon, it's almost quitting time. I'm picking curtains for the new place."
Clara's eyes lit up. "New place? As in... engagement curtains?"
Mia nodded, blushing. "You're invited to the wedding, obviously."
"Wouldn't miss it! Though Dr. Lorimer might cry himself to sleep."
Mia rolled her eyes. "Please—Sebastian would throw a bigger tantrum if you got married."
Clara clapped a hand over Mia's mouth. "Shh! Don't say that!"
But Mia's words gnawed at her. Sebastian Hartwell—blackmailing her with sex tapes, forcing her into his bed. When would he get bored? She craved a normal life—marriage, a family.
After work, Sebastian slid into the passenger seat of Alexander Han's Lamborghini. The neon lime green paint made him wince.
"Color's tacky," he deadpanned.
"Blame Julian. Lost a bet, had to customize it like a tennis ball," Alex groused. The car's roar matched Sebastian's current mood—attention-grabbing and irritating.
As they pulled onto the main road, a blacked-out Augusta motorcycle screamed past, its engine louder than the Lambo. The rider, head-to-toe in black, tailgated a white Audi.
"Check that out," Alex muttered. "Bike's shadowing the Audi."
At a red light, the biker brazenly snapped photos of the Audi's license plate. When the light changed, he stuck to the car like glue.
"Follow them," Sebastian ordered.
Alex shot him a confused look. Since when did Sebastian play hero?
"Clara's driving the Audi," Sebastian said flatly.
Clara had noticed the tail too. Sebastian? Unlikely—he knew where she lived. Serena Vance? The Windsors? She slowed, then gunned it through a yellow light, leaving Alex stuck at the intersection. The biker ran the red, hot on her heels.
"Damn, she's feisty," Alex whistled.
Sebastian's jaw tensed. "Keep going. I know her neighborhood."
Clara killed her headlights as she turned into the narrow alley. Brick walls swallowed the city's glow, leaving only dumpsters and fire escapes bathed in jaundiced sodium light. The motorcycle's roar echoed like trapped thunder.
She spun the wheel violently. Tires shrieked as the Audi pivoted sideways, blocking the alley in a cloud of burnt rubber. The biker swerved, slammed into a dumpster, and crumpled to the wet asphalt.
"Care to explain why you're tailing me?"
The man yanked off his helmet, revealing a sleazy grin. "Just here to show you a good time, sweetheart."
Clara laughed dryly. "I doubt anyone's paying you to 'show me a good time.'" Though inwardly, she wondered: Who wants me hurt?
The man lunged, grabbing her wrist. Clara didn't flinch. A roundhouse kick to his chest sent him reeling. When he charged again, she landed two jabs to his face, followed by a sweep that dropped him to his knees.
He collapsed, whimpering into oily puddles. "Fuckin' bitch!"
Clara wiped blood-spatter from her blouse with detached precision. "Tell your employer," she said softly, "that Clara Morgan doesn't frighten anymore."
She drove off, leaving him groaning in the rain-slicked darkness.
From their Lamborghini, Alexander watched slack-jawed. "Did she just... dismantle a 200-pound man?"
Sebastian said nothing. His eyes tracked Clara's taillights with hunter's intensity. The alley fight replayed in his mind - each strike economical and brutal. This wasn't the trembling woman he pinned to his sheets; this was a blade forged in shadows.
When Alexander chuckled, "Tell me, Hartwell—if she fights like that in bed, do you wake up bruised?" Sebastian finally turned. The raw possession in his gaze silenced his friend instantly.
"Drive," he cut him off, but the corner of his mouth lingered in an approving smirk.