Chapter 4
Lumel' POV
I leaned back on the edge of the desk, letting my gaze roam over him. The new secretary. Alistair Grant. I had already looked him up before coming in today—every detail, every little thing that might make him interesting. And here he was, stiff and careful, trying so hard to be professional.
The moment he stepped in, I could tell he was nervous. His hands trembled just slightly as he straightened his tie. I'd been counting on that reaction.
"You're the new secretary," I said slowly, measuring my words, watching his eyes flicker with uncertainty. "Do you know why the last one was fired?"
I saw him shift, avoid my gaze. Classic. He didn't know whether to be offended, nervous, or intrigued. Perfect.
When I mentioned what my mother had said about the last secretary… I could see him bow, polite, earnest. The way he said he wouldn't disappoint me—well, that earned a small smile. He had no idea how much control I had just by standing there.
Then he tried to focus on the work, ignoring me. I smirked and leaned back against the desk, biting my lip. Not bad, I thought. Trying to be professional when everything about this situation screams otherwise.
When my father walked in, the moment got even better. The little wince he gave me when my father looked at him—that told me everything. He knew I had the upper hand now, even without touching him.
Watching him leave to fetch the Ferran project file, I allowed myself a small chuckle. This is going to be fun.
He didn't know it yet, but I had come to Evans Industries for him. And now that I had him in my sights… the real game could begin.
---
The city lights blurred past as I drove, the hum of the engine keeping time with my thoughts. Alistair—the new secretary—kept replaying in my mind. The way he fidgeted with his tie, the nervous glance, the faint flush on his cheeks when I winked at him… I couldn't stop thinking about it.
By the time I reached my penthouse, the sky had deepened into a velvet night. I parked and stepped inside, the quiet of the apartment settling around me. Everything was in place, orderly, like I liked it—but my mind wasn't on the neat surfaces or sleek furniture. It was on him.
I poured myself a drink, leaning against the window, and the memory of that night—the first night we had met properly—crept in. The way he had looked at me in the dim light, the way I had felt his hesitation and curiosity… it was intoxicating. One night, one encounter, and yet I couldn't stop replaying it.
His dark lashes, amber eyes, the curve of his lips… every detail lingered, sharper than any memory should. I smirked at how unnervingly aware he had made me feel, even when he didn't realize it himself.
He doesn't know how much I'm already thinking about him… The thought made a low hum of amusement escape me. The morning had been far too short, and the anticipation of seeing him again… delicious.
The apartment felt too quiet, too empty, and the game had begun. I intended to see just how far it could go—and this time, I wouldn't let him slip away.
---
My phone buzzed across the glass table, the screen flashing "Mother."
I hesitated for a second. She only called like this when she wanted something.
"Come home."
That was all she said—no greeting, no explanation. And then she hung up.
I let out a long sigh, tossed the phone onto the couch, and dragged myself into the shower.
By the time I stepped out, steam curling in the air, I'd decided on navy blue trousers and a cream shirt. Understated but polished—perfect for whatever this ambush was.
The penthouse garage was quiet except for the echo of my footsteps. I picked one of the cars—dark, sleek, efficient—and drove toward the Evans estate.
The gates swung open without a word.
Inside, the marble floors gleamed like a mirror, reflecting the warm gold light from the chandeliers. Paintings lined the walls—Mother's ever-growing collection.
She was waiting for me in the lounge, poised as always. Antonia Evans, former supermodel, still radiant enough to stop a room. She smiled when she saw me, and I bent to kiss her forehead.
That's when I noticed we weren't alone.
The woman sitting beside her was… stunning. Not just pretty—stunning in the way that made heads turn and conversations stall. Long chestnut hair spilled over her shoulders, her eyes a deep hazel flecked with gold, and when she smiled, it was the kind of smile that could convince you to hand her your secrets.
"Hi," she said, offering her hand. "I'm Aurora. Aurora Davis." Her voice had a musical lilt, soft but confident.
I took her hand. "Lumel Evans."
"I know," she replied, lips curling into a small smile.
"I see you've met Aurora," my father's voice carried across the room as he walked in. Jude Evans—CEO, immaculately dressed, with the calm weight of authority that could silence a boardroom.
"Aurora will be starting at the company alongside you," he said, settling into an armchair.
"Your father told me about your decision," Mother added, her smile bright with approval. "I'm so proud of you."
I hummed, keeping my expression neutral.
So, this was their game. Not just getting me into the company… but handpicking a woman to match me with.
Aurora was gorgeous, no doubt. Any other man would be tripping over himself. But my mind? My mind was still stuck on amber eyes and a smirk that had no right to haunt me.