Suddenly, the door slams open. I don’t need to look up to know it’s Adrian. He’s the only one who’d dare come into my private space like that.
“Lukin,” he starts, already in full rant mode. “You wouldn’t believe it—there’s this charity art fundraiser and the whole thing’s a scam. This guy’s been skimming donations for months. I’m telling you, it’s a mess.”
I sigh, rubbing my temples.Adrian.
He doesn’t even bother to check if I’m in the middle of something. He doesn’t need to. He’s used to barging in whenever it suits him.
I lean back in my chair, letting out a long breath as I push the pile of papers aside. Adrian’s always got some new obsession, but I don’t have the mental bandwidth for it right now.
“Is that so?” I murmur, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “What’s the scam got to do with us?”
Adrian scoffs, rolling his eyes as he paces in front of my desk. “You really don’t get it, do you? This guy’s running a huge event. A colleague of mine—a guy I respect. But now this whole thing’s falling apart because he’s got people trying to take the money. And it’s the art world, Lukin. You know how delicate that stuff is.”
I glance at him, uninterested, but the words pull me back. A colleague of his? “You’re really this involved in some art charity?” I ask, eyebrow raised, tone a little incredulous.
“Of course I am,” Adrian snaps, sitting on the corner of my desk. “It’s a big event. It matters to me, all right? The guy’s a respected curator. We were supposed to partner up for a few things, but now….” He throws his hands up in frustration. “He’s about to ruin everything. This scam’s making it messy. I need to help him clean it up.”
I don’t say anything for a moment, watching him vent. His passion for this art thing is more than I can stomach, but I let him speak. He’s never lacked enthusiasm for anything, no matter how irrelevant it is to our business.
Adrian pulls out his phone, scrolling through pictures before he turns it toward me. “Look at this. See what’s going on. The entire gallery’s compromised.”
I glance at the screen, but the images don’t register. People smiling at a gala, their hands on expensive-looking paintings, their faces flashing across the phone. It doesn’t matter.
I push the phone away. “We’ll deal with it later. Right now, I don’t have time to waste on your pet projects.”
“No, it’s not a pet project. I’m a lover of art. Okay?” He picks up the phone and walks to the side of my desk to show me more photos. “Look, you might know the guy. His name is Mendes.”
Adrian continues to ramble about the scam, swiping through photos on his phone, but I’m barely listening. The noise in my head is too loud—the mix of frustration, desire, and possessiveness that’s been simmering inside me for days.I’m trying to keep my focus, but nothing seems to matter. Not Adrian’s art charity obsession, not the business deals, nothing.
Then, something catches my eye.
Adrian flicks his phone again, showing me another picture from the gallery event. This time, the background looks different—more refined, more polished.
The kind of party where the rich and powerful strut around, pretending they don’t live in a world of smoke and mirrors.
But my attention snaps when I see her.
Zoe.
Her dress—elegant, simple, yet it clings to her in a way that pulls my focus. Her wild auburn hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders, her makeup sharp, perfect. She looks…sexy, beautiful, untouchable, and it pisses me off.
But what makes my blood freeze, what makes every muscle in my body tighten, is the man standing beside her. A clean-cut guy, dressed in a tailored suit. He’s holding a drink, his other hand low on her back, possessively close. The way he’s standing with her, the way his hand rests against her, tells me everything I need to know. I remember him from the Zoe dossier Arseny curated.
It’s Jason.
The smug smile, the way he’s leaning into her space—I know that look. That bastard. Fucking bastard.
My jaw clenches, and I have to force myself to stay still, to not launch across the room and find him. The jealousy, the rage, they claw at me, making my breath come faster. I don’t care who he is. I don’t care about their past. All I care about is that she’s with him. And I can’t stand it.
Adrian notices the shift in me immediately, his voice dropping to a quieter, more cautious tone. “You know him?” he asks, his eyes flickering between me and the phone, sensing the change in the air.
I can’t look at him. My hands are shaking, my grip tightening on the armrest of my chair. I force myself to take a breath, to calm the storm rising inside me.
“No.”
“Okay.” Adrian shrugs. “Here’s Mendes.” He scrolls to the next picture. It’s funny how he didn’t recognize Zoe as the woman in the previous picture. Maybe it’s the makeup or the dress. She looked different, and I hate that she put so much effort into her physical appearance just to go see her ex.
“I have a meeting,” I force out, waving Adrian off. “Give me some space.”
