At one of Vancouver''s most renowned salons, Cathy ck reclined beneath


    gentle hands, savoring the soothing rhythm of a facial massage.


    The air was sweet withvender and rosewater, calming her senses, until her smartwatch buzzed insistently, yanking her from blissful repose.


    She opened her eyes, annoyance already sparking beneath her lids.


    "Yes?" she snapped, answering the call.


    "Madame ck, it''s Jacqueline, Mr. Charles''s secretary," came the crisp voice on the other end.


    Cathy exhaled, impatience bleeding into every word. "Well?"


    "Mr. Charles has invited Sophia Lancaster to his office and ordered me away from my desk," Jacqueline said.


    Cathy''s face went cold at the mention of that name.


    "Sophia Lancaster," she repeated, as if testing the vor of it on her tongue.


    The esthetician, still smoothing delicate creams over Cathy''s face, tried to soften the moment.


    "She''s the most celebrated beauty in Vancouver," she offered quietly.


    "A famous model, back in the day."


    Cathy''s body tensed as if struck by a live wire.


    In a sudden rage, she bolted upright, knocking the esthetician off bnce.


    Her open palm connected sharply with the woman''s cheek, sending the poor girl sprawling onto the floor.


    A collective gasp choked the air.


    The manager hurried forward, bowing deeply.


    "Please, Madame ck," he pleaded, voice trembling.


    "She meant no harm."


    "Just clean my face," Cathy ordered coldly.


    Then, turning her attention to the bodyguard stationed in the corner, she barked, "Bernard, ready the car. We''re going to my husband''s office immediately-no excuses, no dys."


    Bernard inclined his head and reached for his phone.


    "Yes, madame."


    Lowering his voice, he added into the receiver, "The madame is furious. Prepare for our arrival."


    ***


    Inside Charles Cole''s office.


    Charles sat at his desk, heart hammering in his chest, perspiration coating his palms.


    Once, he''d been a charming young man who had no trouble winning female attention.


    Then he met Cathy ck. Everything changed the day he crossed into her world.


    Cathy was no ordinary woman; she was the younger sister of Bruno ck, who ran the fearsome ck Syndicate.


    With their illicit wealth at her fingertips, Cathy served as the family''s calcting ountant.


    Charles, always keen on advancing himself, had charmed Cathy into channeling millions from the syndicate''s coffers into his own financialpany.


    When the trap snapped shut and Cathy demanded marriage, he tried to refuse. She gave him a cool smile and left without a fuss.


    Hourster, he dangled upside down over a river, with Bernard holding the rope that decided his fate.


    "You have two choices," Bernard had said, voice devoid of emotion. "Marry her, or die."


    From that moment on, Charles''s life was no longer his own


    He had money beyond measure, yet lived in endless dread.


    Defying Cathy was not an option.


    The one time he''d dared protest, he ended up with both arms and a leg broken by her enforcers.


    The old saying haunted him like a cruel joke: Happy wife, happy life.


    "The fuck," he muttered under his breath


    "Mr. Cole?" Sophia asked, startled by his sudden outburst.


    Charles forced a quick smile, shaking his head.


    "Nothing," he said too fast. "Just something unpleasant I remembered."


    Now, across from him sat Sophia Lancaster.


    Her beauty was legendary and her presence graceful.


    He eyed Sophia closely, noting the subtle signs that the sleeping drug was taking


    hold.


    Her pupils would soon grow heavy, her voice would slow, and then, she''d be powerless.


    He gripped the edge of his desk, reminding himself to be patient.


    Fifteen years of marriage to Cathy ck had turned him into a trapped animal, pacing a cage built from fear and frustration.


    Love or divorce-neither word belonged in his vocabry.


    He couldn''t even be near another woman without risking life and limb.


    Years of pent-up desire had hardened inside him, pressed into a dark corner where the only sce he found was in his own hand, caressing his manhood, immersed in a world of alluring videos and images of captivating beauties.


    And yet here sat Sophia Lancaster, a woman he had once admired from afar- admired so intensely had used her image to fuel his fantasies.


    Now he had her here, in the flesh.


    "Today,'' he thought wildly, ''today I can have what I''ve only ever dared to imagine.'' Sophia''s voice, still steady, pulled him back.


    "Mr. Cole, as I mentioned, the loan was taken by Chris Rnd. Mypany is liable. Now that we''ve partnered with Kingston, we''d like to adjust the payment schedule to meet our new deadlines."


    Charles nodded too eagerly.


    "No problem," he said, surprising her.


    He watched relief bloom across her face as she rose to leave


    "Thank you, Mr. Cole," she said, warmth and gratitude casing her features.


    But then, as she took a step, her bnce wavered.


    She caught the back of the sofa, confusion and sudden weakness flooding her


    eyes.


    "I... I don''t feel well," she murmured.


    "No problem at all," Charles repeated, his voice eerily calm


    He watched as the drug tightened its hold.


    Sophia''s vision blurred, her words slurred until she surrendered to unconsciousness, copsing softly onto the cushions.


    Charles stood over her, a triumphant grin twisting his lips.


    "Yes! Yes!! Yes!!!" he shouted, hysteria rolling through him


    He''d been denied his desires for too long.


    Now, finally, the universe had presented him with this chance.


    He trembled as he knelt beside her, touching her shoulder, her hair.


    He inhaled the scent that hovered around her skin.


    She was lovely, and unconscious-his for the taking.


    A sick exhration coursed through him, his body throbbing as the tide of desire surged, overwhelming him.


    Every nerve screamed for release, a torrent of pent-up longing wing its way to the surface after years of repression.


    His trembling hands fumbled at his waistband, heart pounding with the feral


    hunger he had kept buried for fifteen agonizing years.


    This time, he swore to himself, nothing would stop him.


    But at the height of his frenzy, the heavy office doors crashed open, the sound


    echoing like a gunshot.


    Charles froze, terror carving through him. In the threshold stood a person.


    "And what," the person demanded, its tone so cold it seemed to burn, "do you


    think you''re doing with that filthy penis of yours?"