The elevator doors glided open on the executive floor of Vierra Holdings, and for a moment, silence met the woman who stepped out.
Kira Evans walked with purpose.
No flashy designer heels. No cleavage on display. Just a tailored ivory blouse, high-waisted black trousers that hugged her hips without begging for attention, and a pair of low, polished leather heels that clicked with quiet authority.
She wore her ambition like perfume—intoxicating but invisible. Every strand of her dark hair was pulled into a clean bun, exposing the line of her jaw and the sharp fire in her eyes.
She wasn't there to impress. She was there to dominate.
"Ms. Evans?" the receptionist asked, a little too quickly.
Kira offered a faint nod. "Dominic Vierra. Now."
She didn't smile. Didn't offer her hand. And when the receptionist hesitated, caught off guard by her tone, Kira's eyes hardened.
"I wasn't hired to be kept waiting," she said. "And I don't do second introductions."
Dominic stood in front of the city skyline when she entered, the light from the windows casting shadows along his sharp frame.
He didn't turn around immediately. Just said, "I was expecting someone louder. Or dumber."
"And I was expecting someone taller," Kira replied, crossing the room like she owned it.
That made him turn.
For a second—only a second—his jaw tightened.
She was… not what he anticipated. No stilettos. No desperate charm. No flirtation.
Just fire behind calm eyes.
"You're the investigator," he said flatly.
"I'm the woman who doesn't kiss ass," Kira replied. "So if you brought me here for decoration, I can save us both the time."
His lips twitched. Not a smile. Something more dangerous.
"I brought you here because someone's leaking from inside my empire," he said, folding his arms. "And I've heard you're the kind of woman who digs until it bleeds."
Kira's eyes didn't flinch. "Only if I get to use my own knife."
Dominic liked control. But something about this woman told him she wouldn't be handled. Wouldn't be owned.
And somehow… he didn't hate that.