Seon Nakamura

I know he discovered it.

Not everything.

Not the cameras hidden behind imported paintings.
Not the copies of his messages archived inside encrypted folders.
Not the men I paid to follow him whenever he disappeared for too long.

But enough.

Enough to understand that his dear older brother is far worse than he ever imagined.

And now he is coming to see me.

The anticipation is unbearable.

I sit through an endless board meeting while executives discuss acquisitions and market projections like any of it matters. Their voices blur into meaningless noise.

Numbers. Contracts. Profit.

Boring.

All of it boring.

Because my attention is fixed entirely on the live security feed open on my phone beneath the table.

Parking garage.
Private elevator.
Restricted floor access.

Him.

Black coat. Messy hair. Sharp movements. Angry.

Beautiful.

I watch him shove past my secretary hard enough to nearly make her stumble.

Good.

She should know better than to touch him.

“He said you can’t enter—”

“I don’t care what he said.”

God.

Even through low-quality security footage, he looks gorgeous when furious.

One of the executives notices my smile falter into something softer.

“CEO Seon?”

I drag my gaze away from the screen slowly.

“What?”

“The merger proposal—”

“Approved.”

“But sir, you haven’t looked at the fi—”

“Approved,” I repeat.

They fall silent immediately.

Smart.

The doors to the conference room slam open less than thirty seconds later.

Every person at the table startles.

I don’t.

I’ve been waiting for him all morning.

There he is.

Breathing hard. Eyes dark. Hands trembling slightly—not from fear.

Rage.

His gaze lands on me instantly.

Not the executives.
Not the assistants.
Me.

Always me.

And for one terrible, wonderful moment, I feel alive again.

I smile before I can stop myself.

Warmly.

Genuinely.

“My little star,” I say softly, leaning back in my chair. “What can your brother do for you?”