Zayn had been up since dawn.
He’d told himself he was working — reviewing financials, skimming reports — but every line blurred until all he could see was her face.
Lana Pearson.
No, not Lana.
He almost spat the name like poison, but somehow it still tasted like temptation.
He told himself he’d brought her here for one reason — to protect his family, to contain a scandal before it broke apart everything his father had built. That was the justification. The logic. The strategy.
And yet… logic didn’t explain why his sleep had been shredded by flashes of her face.
Why every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the ghost of her breath, the memory of her pressed against the wall in his office, trembling under his voice.
Damn it.
He slammed his pen onto the desk and rose abruptly. The
