(AURIANNA'S POV)

"Did you just fucking hit me?!" he yells, one hand clutching his jaw like I broke it.

I blink, still trying to process the absurdity of the whole thing. "Did I just hit you?" I stand from my barstool, crossing my arms. "You just grabbed my boobs without my consent!"

"I said it was a fucking accident!" he fires back, his voice half a shout, half a whine.

People are already turning to look. Music's still thumping, but the energy around us shifts. The DJ might as well have hit a damn spotlight. Everyone's watching with their phones out, some of them smirking, others pretending they're not recording.

Personally, I don't give a shit. But him? He definitely does. I can see it in his eyes, that flicker of embarrassment under the bravado. The mighty Zayne Beaumont, the billionaire golden boy, about to get humbled in front of an audience.

I huff, shaking my head in disbelief. "So that's your excuse? You're not even gonna apologize?"

"Apologize for what?" he says, lowering his voice now, glancing around nervously. "It was an accident, okay?"

"Wrong answer."

Before he can say another word, I grab my drink and pour it straight down his face.

The entire bar goes silent for a beat.

"Jesus Christ!" he sputters, wiping at his soaked hair. "What the fuck is your-"

He doesn't even finish before my fist connects with his face again.

The crowd gasps.

He stumbles back, clutching his nose. I swing again; he tries to dodge, but I catch him with a clean jab to the jaw. Then I grab his shoulder, twist my hips, and drive my knee right into his gut.

He wheezes, all that billionaire arrogance knocked right out of him.

I didn't stop there. I grab his wrist, twist his arm behind his back, and I sweep his legs out from under him. He hits the floor hard, the air bursting out of his lungs.

Before he can even react, I plant my knee in his back and press my elbow against his spine, pinning him there.

"Next time," I hiss, leaning close to his ear, "watch where you put your hands."

Someone in the crowd yells, "Damn!" and another voice shouts, "Yo, she just dropped him!"

Phones are flashing everywhere now. Half the club's recording. I can already see the headlines: Billionaire Tech CEO Gets His Ass Handed to Him by a Mystery Blonde at LUXE.

I push off him, standing tall. Zayne groans, still on the floor, his face red, his hair wet from the wine. And his pride?

Shattered.

I smooth down my dress, grab my purse off the bar, and sling it over my shoulder.

For a second, I glance down at him, and I don't know what makes me smirk. The sight of him completely wrecked or the fact that he's still trying to look dignified while lying face-down on the floor.

"Enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Beaumont."

Then I turn on my heel and walk out of the club, the crowd parting for me like I'm Mo ses and they're the damn Red Sea.

The cold night air hits me the moment I step outside. My heels click against the pavement as I walk away with my head held high.

Just another night. And another man who learned the hard way not to touch me without my consent.

-

THE NEXT MORNING.

(ZAYNE'S POV)

My living room is filled with the sound of loud, obnoxious laughter. Exactly the kind of thing you hear when your best friend is five kinds of terrible.

Cameron's doubled over on the armchair with his phone in hand, his eyes watering. He can't breathe, 'cause he's laughing so hard. I'm flat on the couch with an ice pack strapped to my face, and I want to throw something. Preferably at Cam's head.

"Stop laughing," I grumble.

"But it's so fucking funny." He wipes his eyes. "You should see the comments."

"Shut up." I smack my palm against the sofa cushion. It feels like someone shoved a fist into my jaw and left it there. "It hurts."

"It'll pass." He cackles. "But the internet? Gold. You're trending, man. TikTok, Twitter, Instagram-all of it."

He holds the phone up like a trophy. "Here, listen to this headline. Young Tech Billionaire KO'd by Mystery Blonde at LUXE."

He laughs again, harder.

I groan. It's not the pain so much as the sound of Cam enjoying my humiliation.

"Cam, stop. I'm serious," I mutter under my breath.

The ice is cold enough to blur the world into slow motion. I press it harder against the swelling under my eye. My lip stings every time I move.

Cam scrolls, snorts, reads another headline. "Oh, get this. Beaumont's CEO Gets a Dose of Reality-and a Black Eye." He howls. "That's gonna be the clip they play on morning breakfast shows, dude."

I hurl a throw pillow at him. It sails across the room and bonks him square in the chest.

"Either shut the fuck up about it, or get the hell out of my house," I snap, more irritated than I should be.

He just sits back, unbothered. "You need to calm down, Z. It's not that deep."

"It is that deep." I yank the ice pack off my face and stare at him. "Do you know how many calls I've gotten since morning? PR, the board, my mom-they've all been blowing up my phone for hours. This is going to be a disaster."

Cam waves a hand. "Maybe. But dude, you literally grabbed her tits. How mad can you be at the world when you-"

"Shut the hell up!" I cut him off, then soften, because I'm trying to be honest with myself and the truth tastes bitter. "Okay-okay, I did grab her. But it was an accident. I slipped."

"Accident or not," Cam says, putting the phone down and folding his long legs across the chair, "it's already causing serious damage."

His voice goes quiet for a second, the kind of quiet that makes me sit up. "Beaumont Industries' stock tickers are wobbling. People are talking. Investors don't love viral scandals."

I stare at the ceiling. Images from last night keep replaying-the club lights, the way that blonde moved, the coldness in her eyes when she said no, the fist, my face exploding in pain. My jaw thuds with every memory.

"Fuck," I groan. More for my company than for my face.

Cam shrugs like it's nothing, but his gaze is sharp. "You really fucked up, man."

"You think I don't know what?" I snap, more to myself than to him. I pick up my phone from the coffee table and thumb through a dozen missed calls and texts. Prayers, panic, some asking if I was okay. My PR guy's name lights up the screen like a neon warning.

I press the ice against my face again, feeling the sting turn into numbness. It helps. Numbness is a good thing right now.

"But Z, to be honest that chick really fucked up your face." Cam says, the look on his face morphing into something almost sympathetic.

"Really?" I sit up. "How do I look?"

"Like you got your ass handed to you." he replies, bursting into laughter all over again.

"Fuck you," I say, grabbing my phone. I flip the camera to selfie mode and raise it toward my face.

The screen doesn't lie. There's purple blossom around my left eye, my nose is swollen and already starting to bruise, a busted lip, and my jaw looks like someone beat the hell out of it with a hammer.

Now there's another feeling, a hot, ugly one that sits under the swelling.

Anger.

She hit me, sure, but she also humiliated me in front of half the city. My pride's on the floor with my jaw. And the part that makes it worse is-I don't even know who she is.

I close my hand around that thought like a fist.

I'll find her. I will find the girl who decked me in a club and made my face look like a crime scene, and I will make sure she pays for making my life a headline.

The house is quiet except for Cam's faint chuckle as he scrolls some more. I lift my head and lock eyes with him. "Get me everything you can on last night. Videos, posts, comments-everything. And call my assistant. Tell her to dig. I want names. I want locations. I want every frame of that clip."

Cam's smile is maddeningly calm. "Already on it. Relax, Z. We'll handle this."

I let the ice sit against the bruise and exhale. My jaw aches and my pride bleeds, but I'm not helpless. Not anymore.

When I stand, the room tilts for a second. I steady myself on the sofa, and the anger sharpens into something colder.

I didn't plan on getting punched by a stranger and becoming a meme. But if this is the game, I'll play it. And when I find her? She won't just be trending.

She'll be sorry she ever swung at Zayne fucking Beaumont.

(AURIANNA'S POV)

The doors to O.A.S.I.S Headquarters slide open, and I step inside, my heels clicking against the polished floor. The smell of coffee and antiseptic hits me first, but it's comforting in a weird way. The sound of ringing telephones and beeping monitors filled the hallways. As I walk by, agents and staff nod, some calling out a quick "Morning, Agent Siren," and I smile or wave back. Small courtesies, nothing more.

Then I hear a loud, familiar voice call out my name.

"Anna!"

I turn to see Chelsea striding toward me, that bright grin on her face like she just won the lottery, and her arms are wide open.

We collide and embrace each other in a tight hug.

"Missed you," I say, pulling back just enough to look at her properly.

"Missed me? You've been gone longer, girl," she teases.

I step back slightly, laughing.

Chelsea Parker, codename Mirage, is my closest friend and my ride-or-die at O.A.S.I.S. We've run dozens of missions together, from hostage extractions, operatives trying to kill us, high-risk takedowns, to near-death escapes that would make anyone else soil themselves. We're the perfect duo when we're in the field-me, the brute-force seductress and her, the ghost in the shadows.

Together? We're untouchable.

"Back from Mexico already? How was it?" I ask, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

Chelsea grinned like she'd just had the best margarita of her life. "Mexico was amazing. The mission went smoothly, and... I may have had a little fling with a hot Mexican hunk named Juan." She winks. "I'll tell you all about it later."

"I'm sure you will," I reply with a smirk.

"And you? How was your mission? The thing with the human trafficking rings?" she asks, voice tinged with curiosity.

I shrug. "Wrapped it up a couple of weeks ago. Other agents were dispatched to clean up the rest,take out the men running the rings, and rescue the girls being held hostage."

Chelsea's eyes widen a little. "Anna... I'm impressed. I swear, you never fail. You're the only agent at O.A.S.I.S with a 100% success rate. How do you do it?"

I can't help but grin, a little embarrassed. "Chels, don't make me blush."

Chelsea laughed, shaking her head. Then she leans in, "So... why are you here today? New mission?"

I nod. "Yes. Something concerning an important client. The boss lady wants me in before giving me the details."

She gives me a sly smile. "Well good luck."

I flip my hair over my shoulder, tossing her a smirk. "Thanks, but you know I don't need it."

We part ways there, Chelsea heading toward her office and me toward the elevators. I press the button to the top floor and the elevator hums quietly as I rise, my mind already scanning scenarios, exit strategies, contingencies. By the time the doors opened, I was ready.

I walk to Celeste's office and knock.

"Come in," she calls from inside, her voice calm but commanding.

I step inside and take in the office, sleek and intimidating as always. Celeste Navarro, codename Valkyrie, head of O.A.S.I.S., flashes a smile at me.

"Siren, have a seat." she gestures toward the chair in front of her desk.

I do, settling in, my fingers drumming lightly on my purse. "You said you wanted to see me about a new mission."

"Indeed," Celeste responds, leaning back in her seat. "Some time ago, an Italian Mafia Don, Dominik D'Angelo, head of L'Aureola Oscura-came to the U.S. to expand his network and territories. He started causing significant trouble. O.A.S.I.S was tasked to intercept him multiple times, but we failed."

I listen intently, absorbing every word.

"Finally," Celeste continues, "with the help of one of our clients and investors, we succeeded. Dominik was apprehended and has been imprisoned for the past eight years..." She lets the words hang for a beat. "Until recently."

"Dominik was broken out of jail a couple of months ago, and he's tried to assassinate our client twice now. Your mission is to protect this client until the threat is neutralized."

I inhale slowly, letting the weight of the assignment settle over me. "So... who's the client?"

Celeste glances at her wristwatch. "We arranged for you to meet him right about now, actually. He should be here any mome-"

Her words are cut off as the office door swings open.

A man walks in, wearing a dark blue suit with sunglasses on. He reaches the desk, removes his sunglasses, and my breath stops.

It's him.

Zayne Beaumont.

My eyes lock with his, and for a heartbeat, time freezes. We stare at each other with the same look of shock and recognition on our faces.

Then his expression shifts quickly, from surprise to something else... something darker.

Anger.

Then he says, "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

(ZAYNE'S POV)

I glare at her.

And she glares right back.

At first, the second I locked eyes with her, I thought I was seeing things. But it's her.

The same woman that turned me into a viral meme.

For a solid ten seconds, it's nothing but a silent standoff that could burn the fucking air between us.

Celeste's the first to move. She rises from behind her sleek, glass desk with that calm, polished smile of hers. Completely unaware that she's dealing with two ticking time bombs about to go off.

"Mr. Beaumont," she says smoothly, gesturing toward me. "Meet Agent Aurianna Astranova. She'll be overseeing your personal prote-."

"No. Nope. Absolutely not!" I interrupt before she can even finish. "This is not happening!"

Celeste blinks, caught off guard by the outburst.

Aurianna crosses her arms over her chest. "Oh, it's happening, sweetheart."

I shake my head and laugh under my breath, the kind that comes right before someone loses it. "Please, someone tell me this is a fucking joke."

Celeste's brows knit slightly. "Mr. Beaumont? I don't underst-"

I raise my voice this time, cutting her off. "She's the one you're sending to protect me?"

Celeste looks between us, confused. "Have you two met before?"

Aurianna sighs, tilting her head slightly. "Sadly, yes."

"Sadly?" I bark out a bitter laugh and take a step forward, planting my palms on Celeste's desk hard enough that the pens in her holder rattle.. "There's no way in hell I'm agreeing to this.You can't seriously expect me to let her protect me."

Celeste's gaze darts between us, clearly sensing the tension.

With rage bubbling up in my chest, I point a finger at Aurianna. "This bi-" I almost let the word bitch slip, but the way her eyes sharpen, daring me to finish it, makes me swallow the rest of the word before it can leave my mouth.

"This woman is the reason my name is being dragged through the mud all over the goddamn internet! She turned me into a viral meme!"

Her lips twitch like she's fighting a laugh.

I keep going. "I don't need protection. Especially not from the woman who publicly humiliated me."

"Then maybe," she shoots back coldly, "you should've kept your hands to yourself."

I glare at her. "I said it was an accident."

She rolls her eyes, unimpressed. "You're so full of shit," she replies, not missing a beat. 'Do I look like I was born yesterday?"

"You're damn lucky I haven't decided to press charges," I snap.

"Enough!" Celeste cuts in before either of us can say another word. "Sit down, Mr. Beaumont."

I huff out a breath and drop into the chair beside Aurianna. She sits like she's in a photoshoot, one leg crossed over the other, looking bored out of her mind.

Celeste exhales quietly, then focuses on me. "Mr. Beaumont, I apologize for the misunderstanding that occurred between you two, but O.A.S.I.S. was contracted to handle your protection. And Agent Astranova is, without question, our best operative. You'll be in good hands."

"Yeah, I've seen what those hands can do," I mumble, rubbing my jaw.

Aurianna smirks.

Celeste ignores that. "You don't have a choice, Mr. Beaumont. The board, your PR team, and O.A.S.I.S. have all signed the contract. Agent Astranova will be moving into your home as your Executive Security Consultant. The arrangement is final."

I shoot up from my seat, staring at her like she's grown another head. "You can't be serious."

"Oh I'm dead serious," she says flatly. "Either you accept her protection, or we withdraw the contract. If you die, it won't be our problem."

The room falls silent.

I clench my fists so hard my fingers dig into my palms. My teeth grind together as I turn to look at Aurianna. She's not even looking at me.

She's busy admiring her goddamn nails.

The fact that she's not even fazed at the slightest, pisses me off even more.

I eventually drop back into my seat, silently fuming.

Finally, I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. "Fine. Whatever. I'll play along."

Celeste nods, satisfied, and slides a file across the desk to Aurianna. "These are classified documents containing Dominik D'Angelo's latest movements. From what we've gathered, he's here in Los Angeles. Twice now, Mr. Beaumont has been the target of assasination attempts-once at the L.A. Gala, and once at his company's Malibu estate."

Aurianna flips through the file, her face unreadable. Then she glances at me, her lips curving slightly. "Looks like you really do need my protection after all."

I don't say anything. I can't. Because she's right.

For the first time, it hits me-this isn't just about bad press anymore. Someone actually wants me dead.

Celeste dismisses us a few minutes later. I stand immediately, mutter a half-hearted "thanks," and head for the door.

Not even a few steps after leaving the office, I hear her voice.

"Hey, Beaumont."

I stop. My jaw ticks and my shoulders tense, and for a moment I consider ignoring her. But against my better judgment, I turn around.

"What?"

(AURIANNA'S POV)

He looks irritated. Good.

I close the distance between us, stopping just in front of him.

"Out of the kindness of my heart," I say softly, "I want to apologize for my actions back at the club."

His brows furrow, confusion and surprise flashing across his face. "Really?"

"Yeah." I nod slowly. "Right after you apologize for groping me without my consent."

He groans, throwing his head back like he's had enough of me already. "Not this again."

He steps closer, completely eliminating any space left between us until I can feel the heat of his body radiating against mine. His voice drops, rough and dangerous.

"I said, it was a fucking accident. You're already walking a tight rope here, Aurianna. I've got the money and power to destroy you. So don't. Fucking. Push me."

He's trying to scare me. Dominate me.

It's almost cute.

I hold his stare, refusing to back down. The air between us feels thick, and charged. His breath grazes my lips, and suddenly I'm aware of how close we are.

Too close.

My heartbeat stutters, and heat creeps up my neck before I can stop it.

I clear my throat, taking a deliberate step back, masking whatever the hell that moment was.

"See you soon, Beaumont," I murmur, brushing past him. My shoulder bumps his as I walk away, leaving him standing there.

Wondering what the hell just happened, I head for the elevator without looking back.