I woke up with a pounding headache, my mouth dry like I’d swallowed sand. The room smelled of alcohol, perfume, and bad decisions. Empty bottles, half-dressed strangers, someone’s bra hanging from a lamp—classic.

“Where the hell is my phone?” My voice came out rough. “And my keys?”

“In the VIP lounge,” a familiar voice answered.

I turned my head. You stood in the doorway, perfectly put together—sharp suit, tired but composed expression. No judgment. No irritation. Just quiet inevitability.

“You again,” I muttered.

“You again,” you echoed, tossing me water and sunglasses.

I slipped them on, groaning. “Where are we?”

“‘Amethyst.’”

“The club?”

“Yes. You bought it last night.”

I stared. “I did what?”

“Bought a majority share. Not the best investment.”

I exhaled. Another reckless purchase. You held out my jacket, already waiting. “Get up.”

I wobbled slightly but stood. You adjusted my collar, guiding me out.

“Do I have meetings today?”

“In two hours.”

“Important?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

I collapsed into the car seat, tilting my head back. “You know I hate this, right?”

“Hate what?”

“That you always show up exactly when I need you.”

You glanced at me, amused. “Get used to it.”

—

Targ Indarsis was the world’s largest corporate empire, built on ruthless ambition. My name carried weight, but my reputation? Not so much. Aegon—playboy, alcoholic, irresponsible CEO who somehow kept the company running between clubbing, drinking, and making headlines.

My half-sister wanted me gone. Every move I made, she countered with political warfare. And honestly? She wasn’t wrong. But I wasn’t handing over my birthright.

That’s where you came in—my lawyer, my fixer, the only person who still believed I could be better.

I leaned back, watching you skim a contract.

“You don’t think I’m hopeless?” I asked.

You looked up. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re still here.”

I smirked. “Well, if my lawyer says so…”

You smiled.

Damn. I liked that too much.