Chapter 2

Mireille's POV A smirk crossed his face. “Jealous, Mireille?” The way he said my name sent a violent rush of emotion through me. I flinched before I could stop myself. He needed to stop. He needed to stop saying my name like that—like it still belonged to me. Because every time he did, it twisted something deep inside my chest, something I had spent years trying to bury. “My name is Rachel,” I said again, this time with steel in my voice. “And no, I have no reason to be jealous of my boss’s wife sending him flowers. I think it’s sweet.” He stepped closer. Too close. “I think you’re lying.” I swallowed hard. “I’m not.” I wanted to mean it. I did. But the truth was, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. His wife. The woman who got to kiss him, touch him—see him shirtless in the morning, when his voice was still rough with sleep. Maybe she even had kids with him now. Maybe he tucked them in at night, whispered bedtime stories while I did the same for Zion—knowing my son would never have a father. I should have been happy for him. For them. I should have been thrilled. But I wasn’t. “I can see it written all over your face. The lies. The fear.” His voice dipped lower, smooth as silk, sharp as a blade. “I can fucking smell it on you, Mireille.” My breath caught. My pulse hammered in my ears. I fixed my stare just past his shoulder, anywhere but at him. The air between us felt heavy, weighted with everything unsaid, everything I refused to acknowledge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Laziel didn’t believe me. I saw it in the sharp clench of his jaw, in the way his eyes darkened like a brewing storm. He moved closer, his presence suffocating, and before I could step back, his fingers curled under my chin, tilting my face up toward his. “Look at me.” No. Hell no. Looking at him was dangerous. Looking at him was how I ended up here in the first place. “No.” “Why not?” His voice was a low growl, rough and demanding. I shook my head, my breath unsteady. “Because you keep calling me by someone else’s name! And because you’re my boss. It’s inappropriate for us to—” His hand slid up, fingers tightening around my throat—not enough to hurt, just enough to hold me still. Just enough to own me. And then, without warning, his mouth crashed against mine. The world shattered. The years fell away. In a single heartbeat, I was back in that bridal suite, back to the night he saved me from a lifetime of being someone else’s pawn. Back to the night he gave me the only thing that was ever truly mine. I should push him away. I should fight him. I should remember who he is and what he’s capable of. But six years of unspoken words, buried emotions, and pent-up frustration surged to the surface all at once, and before I could stop myself— I grabbed onto his shoulders and pulled him closer. Everything about Laziel was hard, unyielding. But his lips? They were soft. Coaxing. Consuming. His tongue swept into my mouth, claiming, owning, reminding me of every touch, every whisper, every moment that had once belonged to us. His hands slid down, gripping my thigh, hiking my leg over his hip as he deepened the kiss, dragging a sound from deep in my chest that I didn’t recognize as my own. Holy hell, it had been too long. Too damn long. When he finally pulled away, I chased after him, my lips parted, my breath uneven. He rested his forehead against mine, his voice thick with something dark and dangerous. “I’d never forget that taste. I know it’s you, Mireille.” His words slammed into me like an ice bath. Reality crashed in, cold and cruel. Shame. Panic. Terror. I shoved at his chest, but he barely budged. His grip lingered, firm, possessive, and I had to force myself to move—to escape before I did something even more reckless. “Don’t touch me.” He smirked, slow and knowing. “Is that what the moan meant?” My legs trembled. He was right—I had wanted more. If he had pushed just a little further, I would have let him take me right here, right now. Right on Mr. Taylor’s desk. What the hell was wrong with me? “Stay away from me,” I whispered, my voice unsteady, betraying everything I wanted to hide. Then I yanked open the door and ran.