Florence POV.

I stood in the canned goods aisle, the grocery basket heavy in my hand, but it wasn't the weight of the basket that bothered me. It was the weight in my chest, a cold, gnawing unease that had settled there the moment I walked into the store.

I tried to reason with myself, to explain it by claiming it was because I had a long day at the office, the exhaustion that had been my constant companion for weeks. From this whole revenge plan, to taking care of my mother and actively working to earn money, I was drained in all aspects and my nerves were off the roof. But my quiet but present instincts were basically screaming at me.

A restless energy coursed through me, making it hard to breathe. I scanned the entirety of the shop as my goods were getting scanned and bagged. There was nothing obvious to worry about. I glanced toward the wide glass door at the store's entrance, my eyes darting nervously as if I were expecting something terrible to happen.

The rational part of my brain told me to calm down, to just pick up the damn tomatoes and go home. But another part, was telling me to run as fast as I could. Was there something wrong at home that I didn't know of. Had something happened to my mom and that's why I was getting so paranoid?

I fumbled in my purse, my fingers shaking as I dug out my phone and pressed the speed dial. It rang twice before my mother's warm, familiar voice answered.

"Mom? Are you home? Are you..are you alright?" The desperation in my voice was a betrayal of the calm I was trying to project.

She chuckled softly, a sound that always managed to soothe me. "Of course, I am, Florence. What's wrong? You sound like you've seen a ghost."

"Nothing... I just needed to check," I lied, my gaze snapping toward the reflection in the refrigerator glass door.

That's when I saw them. Two heafty looking men staring right at me. Their features were menacing and their eyes filled with a dangerous glint. I looked back at my phone pretending to type while staring at them with my side eye. Eventually they looked away when someone came to take some items of the shelf they stood in front.

My pulse hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat. "I'll call you back, Mama." I didn't wait for her to answer, just shoved the phone back into my purse, abandoned my basket on the counter, and walked briskly toward the exit. I looked behind me and saw them walking in my direction.

They were following me.

The moment I stepped out of the store, the air seemed to grow thick with dread. The streetlights cast long, distorted shadows, and the familiar sounds of the city seemed to fade into a low hum. I walked faster, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm on the pavement, the sound was as loud and urgent as an alarm bell in the quiet night.

By the time I reached my car, my hands were trembling so badly I fumbled with the keys, dropping them once before I managed to get the door unlocked. I climbed inside, locked the doors with a solid click, and started the engine with my breath caught in my throat. I glanced in the rearview mirror. They were stepping outside, splitting directions as if to box me in.

I didn't think. I just drove. Fast, reckless, weaving through traffic with a desperate urgency that had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with pure, unadulterated panic. My panic was my guide, and before I realized where I was heading, my tires screeched to a halt in front of a random store building on the other side of town. I stayed in place for an hour waiting to see if they had caught up with me. Eventually I went back home but used over three different routes to get back.

Once I did, I rushed to check up on my mom.

"Mom, where are you?" I hollered practically flying up the stairs as I went to her room. She was already asleep clutching onto my father's large portrait like she was trying to hold him.

I left her room quietly and broke down on the corridor. My heart rate was off the roof and I could feel a headache forming. I had never experienced such a danger before and it was not a nice feeling. There was only one person I knew could try and do this and I was not going to let him off so easily.

*********

The next day I matched into the office building practically fuming. I didn't speak to anyone not gave my usual greeting. I was out for their boss's blood.

Getting to the top floor through the elevator, I stormed inside, the air-conditioned chill of the lobby doing nothing to cool the fire in my veins. The receptionists and several employees clustered near the elevator stared at me, their faces a mix of surprise and concern.

My hair was a mess, my heart still pounding so loud I could hear it echoing in my ears. I didn't care how I looked to them, I was decent enough. All that mattered was getting to Anthony, to the man who, despite his infuriating arrogance, was the only person who came to mind when the world began to fall apart.

I shoved open the door to his office without knocking.

"You're trying to kill me!" The words tumbled out, thick with fear and accusation. They were meant to be an accusation, but they came out as a cry for help.

Anthony's dark head lifted from behind his desk. He looked unruffled, calm in a way that only made me more furious. A few of his employees inside the room froze at my outburst, their faces pale.

Anthony's gaze flicked toward them, sharp and dismissive. "Out. All of you."

The employees scattered, whispering as they hurried past me, their hurried steps a contrast to my own frantic arrival.

Anthony leaned back in his chair, studying me with an unsettling composure that grated on my raw nerves. "What happened?"

"What do you mean what happened, you definitely know what happened cause you are the one who planned it all." I snapped not buying his fake concern.

"Miss Davidson I have more important things to do than to deal with your tantrums so if you have nothing to say then I suggest to exist my office immediately. This is a company not your personal playground center where you can act as you wish." He said, his tone rising with anger. And then I was not too sure whether he was the one who actually did it.

Florence's POV

"What's wrong Miss Davidson." Just one question from him and I cracked telling him everything about the men, the store, the way they followed me, the fear that hadn't left my chest since. I hated that I sounded breathless and weak, but I couldn't hold it in. It all came pouring out, a torrent of frantic, jumbled words. My eyes were hot with tears that were ready to fall at any given time.

Anthony didn't interrupt me as I spoke. He only reached for his phone and dialed with steady, unnervingly calm fingers. "God'swill. Call Inspector David. Tell him I'll need him immediately."

I blinked, confused. "What-what are you doing? Inspector David? Why are you calling the police?"

Anthony's eyes met mine, steel and fire in equal measure. "Because I have an idea who's behind this, Florence. But I don't work with guesses. I work with proof and so I need to get some."

The finality in his tone made my throat dry. For a moment I forgot my fear of the men outside and focused instead on him, the dangerous calm of someone who didn't panic even when lives were at stake. It was a cold, quiet power, the kind that both repelled and captivated me.

Minutes later, Godswill entered the office, his face tense. "Boss, Inspector David says they need you down at the station right now. He says it's urgent."

Anthony stood, grabbing his jacket with one smooth, unhurried motion. "I'll be there."

I moved instinctively, following him as he strode out of the office. "I'm coming with you."

"No." He didn't look at me, didn't break his stride.

"Yes." I caught up to him, my heels clacking against the polished floor, a staccato of defiance. "You can't just leave me after what happened. Whoever those men were, they were after me. You expect me to go home and wait?"

Anthony finally turned, his hand firm as he grasped my arm, stopping me dead in my tracks. "Miss Davidson, this is not your world. If you're smart, you'll step away from me before you get buried in it."

"Well now I've unfortunately been roped in it from the moment my brother was taken and now the incident from yesterday."

"It could just be a coincidence."

"Yeah right," I scoffed sarcastically. "We both know that's not true. It's all connected and I am coming with you."

"I am not going to protect you if anything happens." He said.

"I don't need your protection all I need are answers and that's all. I can take care of myself."

Anthony and I had a stare down for about a minute until Godswill cough brought us back.

"Um.. boss is she coming." He asked unsure.

I turned to Anthony waiting for his answer.

"Let her do whatever she wants." He said after much silence. "It has nothing to do with me let's go."

He said then briskly took his coat and walked out of the office with Godswill in tow. I quickly went after them holding only my card and my phone in hand.

We entered the elevator and rushed out the door once it opened up. The car was waiting right outside the office door.

I made to enter after Godswill opened the door but I was dragged back by Anthony.

"What are you doing? Let go of me." I tried to loosen his hold but his grip on my forearm was just too tight.

"Look at me." He said. "Where we are going is way too dangerous for you to go."

"I don't care okay. I keep telling you that I want answers."

"There are safer ways to get answers. Endangering you life for this isn't going to make sense."

"Staying back and waiting is not making sense as well. I want to go and so you don't get to stop me. Why do you care so much? You are the one that wanted to get rid of me so badly so what's with the attention now."

Anthony's jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to argue again, but the sudden sound cut through the night before he could speak.

Gunfire.

Bullets rained down with the deafening roar of chaos. Glass shattered, a thousand tiny diamonds glittering in the air as the building's entrance gave way. Screams tore through the air, and people scattered in a panic that mirrored my own from just moments ago.

Anthony reacted instantly. He grabbed me, yanking me against his chest with a force that stole the air from my lungs. He pulled me down behind the nearest car, his body shielding mine completely, the heat of him a stark contrast to the cold fear that had been my companion all night. Bullets sparked off the metal of the car just inches away from my head.

"Stay down!" he growled, his voice rough with authority, a command I had no choice but to obey.

My entire body trembled, adrenaline spiking through my veins like electricity. The panic from the grocery store multiplied tenfold, but in the midst of the chaos, all I could feel was Anthony's arms around me, his strength anchoring me to the ground as the world fell apart around us.

And in that moment, as death rained from the night sky, I realized something terrifying-Anthony wasn't just my arrogant boss. He was the storm itself. He was the eye of the hurricane, the calm center of a maelstrom. And I, against all my better judgment, had just walked right into it.

Florence POV.

Gunfire cracked like thunder splitting the day. Screams tore through the air as the pedestrians scattered in every direction, heels slapping against pavement, groceries spilling, car doors slamming shut in panicked haste.

The crowd was frantic, people running, stumbling and climbing over others that had fallen in a bid to get to safety.

Anthony shoved me down, one arm locking around my shoulders, the other pressing my head to his chest as bullets whistled over us. "Godswill!" His voice was like steel cutting through chaos. "Shoot back! Don't let them pin us down."

My ears rang. My body was shaking so badly I could hardly breathe. I clutched at his sleeve, nails digging into fabric, too stunned to move.

Another round of gunshots came, destroying the glass walls behind us. We ducked down, Anthony shielding me as the broken pieces rained over us.

"Godswill, shoot back damn it." Anthony roared drawing me closer to him.

Godswill's gun barked in return fire, sharp and merciless, sending the shooters scrambling. The fight went on for about five minutes, more of Anthony's bodyguards coming and defending us against the onslaught of bullets.

Luckily, police sirens pierced through the air, sending relief through me. Anthony tightened his grip on me as we ducked down a car as the attacker's gave one last round before they left us. The sound of their retreating car tyres echoed like a curse in the empty street.

And then, there was absolutely silence. Like nothing had even occurred.

"Who was that?!" Anthony snarled, lifting his head from where he'd shielded me, his eyes blazing and his voice hard as steel. "Who the hell was that?"

No one answered. The street was a graveyard of spilled fruit and broken glass, the air thick with gunpowder. Godswill and the other men swept through the shadows, but the attackers were gone.

I realized I was still gripping Anthony's suit jacket like a lifeline, and only then did I look down and notice the trembling in my own hands. My whole body wouldn't stop shaking and my heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest.

"Miss Davidson are you okay?"

His voice cut through again, lower this time, not at me but near my ear. "Hey."

I couldn't answer. I couldn't even breathe right not to talk or speak. My throat worked just fine, but no words came. My vision became blurry and doubled. The world was spinning, dark creeping in at the edges of my vision. I heard Anthony's voice, calling out to me but it was like I was submerged under water and everything was far from me. Eventually darkness fell and I went along with it.

**********

When I woke, it wasn't to the chaos of sirens or the flashing of lights. It was to silence. One that was too quiet for my liking.

I sat up slightly dazed and a little lightheaded. My arm was sore and I reached to rub it with my other arm when I felt a foreign object. My arms were riddled with bandages.

I looked around to see that I was in a room I had never seen before. It was dimly lit, smelled faintly of cedar and something sharper, a man's cologne. The bed beneath me was firm, the sheets pressed smooth except where I'd tangled them in my definitely restless sleep.

I blinked, confusion fogging my brain as I tried to make sense of the whole situation. This wasn't my apartment. This wasn't even the guest quarters at the company. My heart skipped. Where...?

A muffled clink carried from beyond the door, the soft rhythm of movement. Dishes clatering, cabinets hinges screeching slightly, a pan scraping lightly over a stove.

I sat up, still dressed in the clothes from yesterday, my shoes neatly lined up against the wall. A small table by the bed held a glass of water and two little pills. Painkillers. My head didn't hurt, though. My body felt oddly...lighter. Someone had thought about that before I woke.

I pushed off the bed, the floor cool beneath my bare feet as I padded toward the sounds. The deeper into the apartment I went, the more it felt surreal, quiet elegance, dark wood floors, clean lines, books lined up perfectly on shelves. It was the kind of place that screamed control.

And there, in the kitchen, stood Anthony.

No suit. No tie. Just sweatpants slung low on his hips and a plain black T-shirt swung over his shoulders. He was standing over the stove, stirring something with absent precision. While he was shirtless and looking like heaven on earth with six pack abs. I watched with rapid attention at his fluid movement and the flexing of his muscles with each movement made.

I froze in the doorway. My mouth went dry. I didn't think I'd ever seen him look...human before. Not only looking human, he looked hot and drop dead sexy as hell it was concerning. I shook my head trying to slap myself out of it. He was my enemy no matter how mouthwatering his skin was and how juicy and bite able his muscles were.

"Control Florence," I muttered to myself. "We do not lust over evil people."

He turned his head slightly, catching me watching. "You're awake." His voice was the same, calm, commanding, but softer somehow and the sound filled my chest with unwarranted warmth.

"From the looks of how you were talking to yourself like a mental patient I think it is safe to say that you are okay."

And...the warmth is gone. F**k you Anthony.

I tried rolling my eyes at him but realized I was staring, not at his face, but lower. Broad chest, lean muscle, the kind of lines magazines tried too hard to Photoshop. Heat rushed to my cheeks before I could help it as very lewd imaginations began to top up.

He turned around and lifted his brows at my expression"Pervert." He simply said and he was not wrong but who am I to let him go with that.

"What, excuse me?!" I squeaked, my face blazing as I crossed my arms.

"Sit down." He motioned toward the counter without looking back. "You need to eat."

I hovered awkwardly before finally slipping onto one of the stools. The smell of food drifted over-warm, savory, like comfort wrapped in steam.

For a moment, it felt almost...normal. Too normal to be true. A piece of my memory felt missing and I just couldn't tap into it.

I stiffened, blurting before I could stop myself: "Something happened. I can't... I can't remember it properly. What-what was that?"

He glanced over his shoulder, expression unreadable. "There was a shootout right in front of the office."

My stomach dropped as the memory slammed back into me: the shots, the shouts, the way his body had covered mine.The stool scraped loudly as I shot to my feet. "A what?!" My heart pounded against my ribs. "Who were they? Why would they come after me-why-"

Anthony cut me off with a sharp look. "Sit."

I didn't. My hands were shaking again, breath shallow, panic creeping up my throat.

"You had a minor seizure and your blood pressure was too high," he said finally, setting the pan aside. His tone was clinical, almost detached, but his eyes flicked to me-watchful. "Shock. You passed out before I could get answers."

Florence POV

"I-" My voice cracked. "I don't- have any history of that. Even in my family."

"It's not genetic, the doctors checked you out. You just need to rest."

"Just rest?"

"Yes, just rest. Which is why," he continued, "you're not running off again until we know exactly who's behind this."

I stared at him, chest heaving, thoughts racing too fast to pin down. Fear, confusion, anger-everything tangled together.

And yet, beneath it all, one thing stuck stubbornly in place: I was alive. I was here. And the man who terrified me, infuriated me, confused me-had carried me through it. Anthony was the biggest puzzle in this entire situation. This was a romance movie where we would bond over the situation and fall in love in a cheesy way. This was the real world where we were just shot at with real guns. I get that Anthony may have seen a lot in his profession and rise to wealth but he was not even a bit shaken. He was angry and concerned but more of curious and no form of fear. Who was he?

I ate slowly, my fork clinking against the plate, eyes flicking to Anthony across the counter.

"So... what now? What are we going to do about this?" I asked, testing his mood.

He didn't look up from the phone in his hand. "We're not going to do anything. You are going home. And staying there until I say so."

I froze mid-bite. "What! No way! I am not just going to sit back, I have to do something..."

"Do what exactly? You always want to involve yourself and look at where that has gotten you. Bloody and bruised."

"But at least I'm still alive and breathing."

"So you want to take a chance and test how fast you can stop breathing?"

"No I just need to.."

He cut me off sharply, his voice as cold as steel. "That's enough Miss Davidson. You almost died today. Do you realize that? You even passed out from the shock, had a seizure and was so close to a minor stroke."

My eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to call me weak?"

"Yes," he answered flatly, without hesitation. His gaze finally met mine, unflinching. "You are weak, unprepared, unqualified for this fight. And if you don't stay out of this, I'll make sure you're banned from the company. I'll put you somewhere I know you can't interfere."

The words hit harder than I expected, and for once I didn't fire back because deep down I knew he was right. I pressed my lips together, glaring at my plate, muttering something under my breath.

An hour later, I stepped out of the bedroom, wearing one of his old shirts that hung past my thighs and a pair of borrowed shorts. Anthony was already waiting in the sitting room, jacket on, car keys in hand.

He gestured to one of the men that were stationed outside. "Take her home." His tone left no room for argument. "I'll go with another driver to meet the inspector."

I rolled my eyes but didn't move.

Anthony crossed the room in two long strides and caught my wrist before I could walk past him. His grip wasn't rough, but firm, a warning in itself. He leaned down just enough for me to hear him.

"Don't do anything reckless, Miss Davidson. I mean it when I say there will be consequences for your actions."

I tilted my head, meeting his cold stare with mocking sweetness. "Oh? What could I possibly do? Since you've already decided how every part of my life should go."

"I did not do that."

"Well you've decided where I should I should not go, what food I should eat, clothes I should wear maybe next time you'll choose my makeup."

The corner of my lips curled in a bitter smile. His jaw tightened, but he didn't answer. For a moment, the silence between us carried something sharp-anger, frustration, and something neither of us wanted to name.

"Don't do anything." He warned as I entered the car.

"Don't count on your dominance." I said as the car sped away.

The drive home was quiet, a strained, tense silence broken only by the hum of the engine. My mind replayed the events of the last few hours: the deafening gunshots, the feeling of Anthony's body shielding mine, the strange intimacy of his apartment. The air was still thick with the memory of his touch, the warmth of his hand on my wrist.

I couldn't shake the image of him in his kitchen, stripped of his usual armor of a suit and tie, looking vulnerable, almost domestic. It was a side of him I'd never seen, a crack in the carefully constructed facade he presented to the world. And it was a side I was dangerously, stupidly, attracted to.

When we finally pulled up to my apartment building, I didn't hesitate. I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to the driver. "I'll be right back."

"Miss, Mr. Anthony said-"

"I know what he said," I cut him off, my voice steady. "But I need to get something."

I ignored his protests and jogged up the stairs to my apartment, my heart pounding in my chest. Inside, I grabbed a small duffel bag and a few essentials, my mind made up. I couldn't just sit here and wait for something to happen. I wasn't that kind of person.

When I got back downstairs, the driver was still there, looking frustrated. "Miss, I can't let you leave."

I gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm not going to leave. I'm going to follow him. And you're going to help me."

He stared at me, his eyes wide. "I can't do that. He'll kill me."

"He won't," I said, my voice low and confident. "Because if he does, I'll tell everyone what happened tonight. I'll tell them about the seizure, the gun shoot out about the fact that he carried me back to his apartment, about how he tried to force me. And then he'll have a much bigger problem than you."

The driver's face went pale. He knew I was right. Anthony would do anything to keep his vulnerabilities hidden. I was his little secret, and I was going to use that to my advantage.

"Get in the car," I said, a mischievous glint in my eye. "We have a meeting to crash."

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed and got in the driver's seat. He started the car, and we pulled out into the night, following the faint glow of Anthony's car in the distance. I was doing something reckless, something stupid, something that would probably get me into a lot of trouble. But I didn't care. I was a part of this now, and I wasn't going to let anyone, not even Anthony, keep me on the sidelines.

The chase was on.