The lobby of Ravion Global's tech division was the kind of place that demanded silence—not out of intimidation, but awe. Sleek surfaces gleamed under soft lighting. Tempered glass partitions shimmered like still water. Everything pulsed with the quiet arrogance of wealth and power.
And then Nyah stepped in—heels clicking, lips a sinful shade of scarlet, hair sculpted into a sleek, unapologetic bun. She wore a tailored black blazer cinched at the waist with a gold chain belt, and beneath it, a silk crimson blouse that hinted at danger and desire in equal parts. Her trousers hugged her hips like a promise. She looked like a walking enigma—an executive? A model? A goddess in business wear? No one knew, but heads turned.
Including his.
Kael Ravion—CEO, billionaire recluse, and a man whose name opened doors and closed others forever—froze mid-stride as Nyah brushed past him near the elevators.
It was deliberate on her part, that subtle shoulder graze. She hadn't meant to collide—but she had wanted to feel him. To be sure.
She had never seen a clear image of him. The internet was mostly empty, scrubbed clean, and what little remained was fuzzy and distant. Shadows and silhouettes. She knew his name. His empire. His legend. But the man? He'd been a mystery.
Until now.
Kael flinched.
To most, the touch would've been nothing. A blip. But Kael was not like most men. He hated being touched. Too many women had tried, throwing themselves at him for the wrong reasons. And yet, this woman—this stranger—had somehow gotten under his skin with a single brush.
Nyah felt the shift instantly. The man's face was... wrong. Not in a literal sense. It was perfect, too perfect—sharp cheekbones, carved jawline, a mouth that looked like it was carved to do sinful things yet only knows how to frown, and eyes a silver so pale they glinted like frost under moonlight.
Those eyes snapped at her. Sharp as broken glass and twice as cold.
Nyah tilted her head, letting her lips curve ever so slightly—not quite a smile. Not quite anything.
"Watch it," he muttered, voice low, clipped, as if each word cost him.
"Excuse me?" Her voice was silk-lined steel, the kind that sliced before you even realized you'd been cut.
Kael's gaze raked over her in a single, surgical sweep. "Next time, try walking with your eyes open."
Nyah's brows lifted in slow amusement. "Next time, try not standing in the middle of the damn hallway like a marble statue. Or are you always this pleasant?"
His jaw ticked. "I don't appreciate being touched."
"Oh?" she said, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him. "Then maybe you should stay behind your glass walls where no one can reach you."
The air between them thickened.
Kael's expression didn't shift, but something flickered in his eyes. Something dangerous. Intrigued. Annoyed.
But he didn't respond. He simply turned, sharp and cold and controlled, and walked away—taking with him the lingering notes of her perfume, a blend of spice and warmth and secrets he didn't want to think about.
She watched him go, eyes narrowing slightly. That gait. That presence. The command in his silence.
It had to be him.
She smirked. "Asshole."
But her heart was thudding louder now. Because she had a sinking feeling she'd just mouthed off to the one man she wasn't supposed to piss off today.
Kael Ravion.
And if her sources were right, he was the man she was about to work for.
She leaned against the wall, feigning nonchalance as her eyes trailed him. "So. That's the boss. Damn, it's going to be a long day."
****
The cybersecurity breach at Ravion Global had made headlines—an "internal sabotage" cloaked as an external infiltration. Sensitive files wiped, a trail of data suggesting blackmail, and most unsettling of all, the death of a mid-level systems analyst found dead in the underground parking lot.
All very convenient for Nyah's other mission.
Officially, she was here as "Nathan D. Keene," the elusive cybersecurity prodigy who consulted under a fake name and never showed his face. A clever alias that had gotten her into doors most women couldn't walk through unescorted.
Unofficially, she was here to investigate what connected this death to the others she'd been chasing. Her sister's among them.
She was good at playing dual roles. Her day job as a cybersecurity expert paid well and kept her close to dangerous secrets. But her real passion? Truth. The kind people killed for.
Ravion Global's tech floor was a controlled jungle of hums and flickers, where elite developers clacked away in isolation pods, and AI monitors whispered like spirits in code. She passed desks strewn with quantum processors, encryption blueprints, and prototype drones. Her presence drew eyes—mostly male, mostly wide. She was used to that.
Nyah set up in a glass-enclosed conference room that had been converted into a crisis lab. Her laptop was open, fingers flying across the keyboard, layers of firewalls and access logs peeling away under her touch like silk.
She sipped her espresso slowly, deliberately.
Outside the room, Kael walked in with Thane, his COO, unaware she was inside.
"I want to know who had access to the corrupted modules and the offline storage drive," Kael was saying. "We don't pay millions so people can get lazy."
His voice washed over her—deep, authoritative, the kind that could slice steel or seduce in a single breath.
Then he saw her.
Their eyes locked through the glass.
Something stilled in him. The woman from the lobby. The one who'd touched him without permission. But this time, she wasn't just wrapped in perfume and danger—she was seated behind a fortress of code and coffee. Calm. Calculating. She looked like someone who could hack your entire life and then fix your firewall just to prove a point.
He turned to Thane, jaw tight. "Who the hell is that?"
Thane cleared his throat. "That's... Nathan Keene."
Kael's brows knit. "She's Nathan Keene?"
"Goes by Nyah Morel in person. The pseudonym's just part of the mystique."
Kael exhaled slowly. So this was the miracle worker. A hacker in stilettos and red lipstick. Everything about her grated against his expectations—and that unsettled him more than he cared to admit.
Without another word, he strode into the room.
"Ms. Keene," he said coolly.
Nyah didn't look up from her screen. "Mr. Ravion."
"You're our miracle worker?"
"That's what your head of security called me. I prefer 'data surgeon.' Has more flair."
He stepped closer. "Do you usually flirt with your clients before diagnosis?"
Now she looked up, slowly. "Oh, is that what this is? Anyway, I only "flirt" with the ones who act like they're too important to be touched."
Kael's jaw ticked. "Is that what that was? A test? In the lobby?"
She tilted her head. "You flinched. That told me more than a background check."
His eyes darkened. "I don't like being touched."
"Most people don't like being exposed either. Yet here we are."
Their words crackled—flirting dressed up as fencing. Sharp parries disguised as polite conversation.
Kael folded his arms, the room seeming smaller by the second. "I don't tolerate attitude in my company."
Nyah leaned forward slightly, her voice a purr edged with threat. "Then don't hire people you can't control."
For a beat, he just stared at her.
There was something... familiar about the way she held her ground. Not defiant. Not reckless. Just—anchored. Like someone with nothing to lose and everything to gain.
"I want results," he said tightly, voice low.
"You'll get them," she replied. "If you get out of my hair and let me do my thing."
Kael turned to leave with his jaw locked, pulse elevated, but just before he exited the room, he glanced back.
Once.
Nyah watched him go, her smirk slow and knowing. She'd touched a nerve. Good.
Because now she was in.
And Kael Ravion had no idea just how deep.
****
Later that evening, Nyah sat in her car in the company's basement lot, reviewing drone footage from the night of the murder. She'd hacked into the internal surveillance system earlier. No one had even noticed.
There. A flicker. A shadowy blur at the edge of the lot, humanoid but... wrong. Not just fast, but unnatural. Like something slipping between realities.
And then, a still frame of the victim. His skin was scorched at the chest. Lips parted in a scream. Eyes white.
Just like Liora, her sister.
Nyah's throat tightened.
Who had dropped the body there though? Did the company erase that part?
She didn't hear the footsteps approaching until someone rapped lightly on her driver-side window.
She jumped.
Atlas.
She rolled it down. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Looking for you. I called. You ignored my call."
He leaned down, his smile softening. He looked delicious, damn him. Golden skin, tousled curls, that lazy-boy charm that melted most women like warm chocolate.
"I brought burgers," he said, dangling the bag. "You skipped lunch."
Nyah couldn't help it—she smiled. "You're so annoying yet sweet."
"And you're starving. Come on."
They sat on the hood of her car and ate under the fluorescent lighting. Atlas swung his legs like a kid, leaning close.
"You're playing with fire, working here," he said.
"I always do."
"You know who owns this place, right?"
"Kael Ravion. Billionaire. Ice king. Looks like a vampire who drinks resentment."
Atlas chuckled. "Smitten already?"
She shot him a look.
"Just saying," he added, "the man is intense. And not in a 'let's-get-coffee' way. Be careful."
"I can handle him."
"Of course you can. But... if he touches you, I will break his face."
Nyah rolled her eyes. "You don't even like me like that."
His voice dropped. "Who said that?"
There it was again. That line they danced on—friends, maybe more, never clear.
****
And far above them, Kael watched from his office window, the lights casting his silhouette in sharp relief.
He saw the way Nyah leaned into Atlas. The way Atlas looked at her.
He didn't like it.
Not one bit.