Drake

I sat behind the sleek mahogany desk, high up in my corner office, the kind with floor-to-ceiling windows that boasted a panoramic view of the Manhattan skyline. It was a view that screamed power, wealth, and control. From up here, I could see the city stretch out beneath me, a sea of glittering lights, chaotic streets, and people who had no idea who I really was or what lurked behind my cold, polished exterior.

But even the view couldn’t save me from the tedium of this moment.

I looked across my desk at Cynthia, a mid-level marketing exec whose face was contorted in desperation. Her voice wobbled as she tried to explain her way out of another failedcampaign, but I had long since tuned her out. Her excuses were pathetic, and more importantly…Irrelevant. The decision had already been made.

“I’ve been with the company for ten years, Mr. Youngblood,” she said, her voice cracking. “I just need another chance. Please.”

I sighed dramatically, steepling my fingers and giving her my coldest stare. “Loyalty is commendable, Cynthia, but it’s not enough. We don’t reward mediocrity here.”

Her face fell, and I could see the fear in her eyes. She was starting to understand what was coming.

“I’m sorry, but your services are no longer required. Consider this your last day,” I said, my tone flat and dismissive.

The moment the words left my mouth, her face crumpled like a house of cards. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she let out a small sob, covering her mouth with her hand as if that could somehow hold back the flood of emotions.

“Please, I need this job. I can fix it. I can do better…just give me one more chance.”

The pleading was always the worst part. Humans, with their fragile emotions, never seemed to understand that there was no room for second chances in the world I inhabited. I had no patience for weakness, finding it frankly disgusting.

“Enough,” I snapped, my voice slicing through her like a whip. “You have five minutes to collect your things. Security will escort you out.”

Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she shuffled toward the door, still sniffling, as if her tears could change anything. She opened the door and nearly ran into someone—someone I’d hoped to avoid today. And every day, for that matter.

Delilah Montgomery stood in the doorway, her dark, glossy hair framing her face like an oil-slick halo, her blood-red lips curled into a smile that sent an immediate chill through me. Her crimson nails, long and perfectly manicured, clicked against the doorframe as she leaned in, clearly enjoying the show.

Cynthia took one look at Delilah and scurried out of the office, offering a mumbled apology as she fled like a mouse from a cat. And well she should if she knew what was good for her.

I groaned internally. The CEO’s wife was not what I needed right now.

“What the hell do you want now, Delilah?” I asked, my voice dripping with irritation. I leaned back in my chair, trying to mask the unease she always brought out in me.

She sauntered into my office like she owned it—like she owned me. Which she technically did. After all, she was the one who had turned me into what I was, the one who had given me power and wealth beyond my wildest dreams, in exchange for a part of my soul. I’d made a deal with the devil; one I’d regret until the end of time.

“Oh, Drake,” she purred, running her long nails across the edge of my desk as she approached. “Is that any way to greet the woman who made you what you are?”

I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. “I’d be fine without you, Delilah. Now get to the point. I’m busy.”

Her smile widened, revealing a hint of the sharp teeth that had ruined my life in more ways than one. “Busy firing incompetent employees, I see. Such a cold touch. I’m proud.”

I huffed, barely holding onto my patience. “What do you want?”

Delilah perched herself on the edge of my desk, crossing one spidery leg over the other. “I’ve got a new assignment for you, darling.”

I raised an eyebrow. “An assignment? I don’t take assignments from you anymore. I practically run Montgomery Enterprises in this city.”

“Oh, but you do,” she replied, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “And this one is different. I’m sending you to Sweetberry Hollow.”

I blinked, certain I had misheard her. “Sweetberry what?”

She shrugged, clearly amused by my confusion. “Sweetberry Hollow. It’s a quaint little town in the middle of nowhere, population: cute, sweet, and probably home to a pie-baking contest or two.”

I stared at her, trying to make sense of this absurd conversation. “Why the hell would you send me there? I run an empire here, Delilah. Find someone else to deal with...whatever nonsense this is.”

Her smile never faltered, but her eyes darkened, becoming even more predatory. “I have my reasons, Drake. And this isn’t a request. You’re going to Sweetberry Hollow to oversee one of the Sugar Rush branches. It’s failing miserably, and we need someone to whip it back into shape.”

“Sugar Rush?” I said with open disdain. “A candy store? You’re sending me to manage a candy store in the middle of nowhere?”