Page 24 of The CEO

I ride the elevator up to my greenhouse rather than retiring to my bedroom. Sleep will elude me tonight, as it often does, especially when my thoughts are consumed by her. Better to channel my restlessness into productivity rather than sitting in my office for hours watching her sleep.

The glass-enclosed space atop Eden houses my most precious collection: rare and often deadly botanicals gathered from around the world. Some are almost entirely extinct in nature, thriving only under my careful and tender cultivation. Others are so dangerous, their very existence is regulated by international law.

I move among them, checking soil moisture, inspecting new growth, and murmuring gentle words of encouragement to the particularly delicate ones. These plants respond to my voice, my touch, my attention.

They thrive under my control, just like The Shadows . . . just like Eve will.

I pause when I reach my newest acquisition: a ghost orchid. An exceptional rarity with extremely powerful hallucinogenic properties. She’s delicate, her cultivation requiring a perfect balance of attention. Too little and she’ll wither away, too much and she’ll fail to thrive. Just like the relationship I’m carefully constructing with Eve.

And while I understand Foster’s need to question, his concerns are entirely misplaced. Soon he’ll understand . . . they all will. I’ve maintained absolute control over every aspect of my empire by eliminating threats and variables, not inviting them in. Eve represents an unprecedented risk—one I’m taking against the organization’s advice—but that doesn’t mean I’m not in control.

The ghost orchid demands my attention, its spectral white blooms suspended in the humid air like apparitions. I brush my fingertips near the translucent petals, making sure not to touch them, feeling the moisture-rich air between us. This rare specimen thrives under precise conditions that would kill lesser plants. The perfect balance of neglect and obsession.

Like what I’ve cultivated with Eve.

“Eight years,” I whisper, my breath disturbing the delicate bloom.

The orchid’s scent rises to meet me. It’s very subtle, intoxicating even, with underlying notes of danger. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, letting the fragrance flood my senses. It reminds me of Eve’s perfume—that hint of jasmine I caught in the forest preserve. I’ve ordered a specimen of every plant in her signature scent, growing them here where I can surround myself with her essence even in her absence.

I move deeper into my collection, past the black orchids with their deceptive beauty, to where my carnivorous specimens wait. Venus flytraps remain perfectly still, patient predators disguised as vulnerable blooms. They don’t chase; they entice. They don’t hunt; they simply create the perfect conditions for prey to deliver themselves willingly.

My fingers trace the rim of a pitcher plant, its modified leaf forming a vessel that lures, traps, and consumes. The inside glistens with digestive secretions . . . beautiful, deadly, patient.

“You’ll come to me the same way,” I murmur, imagining Eve approaching, drawn by curiosity and desire she doesn’t yet understand. “Irresistibly compelled toward your own consumption.”

Sweat beads on my skin in the hothouse air, trickling down my spine. The same way I imagine perspiration would form on Eve’s body beneath my hands, my mouth. I loosen my collar, the confined space suddenly feeling too small for the heat building inside me.

Among my rarest specimens stands an emerald-toned nepenthes with a blood-red throat. Its trap hangs heavy, waiting. I’ve spent years coaxing it to maturity, adjusting its environment by increments, granting it exactly what it needs to thrive. The reward for my patience is this perfect lethal beauty.

“Soon,” I promise—whether to the plant or to myself, I’m no longer certain.

The greenhouse walls seem to pulse around me, a living heartbeat matching the rhythm of blood thundering in my veins. In this moment of perfect solitude, surrounded by beautiful danger I’ve cultivated with my own hands, I allow myself to feel the full weight of my obsession with Eve Thorne.

It’s not just want. Not merely desire. It’s recognition.

I’ve crafted this sanctuary over the years—filled it with specimens that thrive in darkness, that transform poison into sustenance, that present beauty while concealing lethal purpose. They are my reflection, and now I understand, they are hers as well.

Eve belongs here, among these dangerous blooms. Not as another specimen in my collection, but as the only other creature who could possibly understand the beauty in this controlled savagery.

I check my watch, and it’s nearly 3 a.m. In a few hours, Eve will wake in her apartment, unaware that her life has already begun its irreversible entanglement with mine. Soon, she’ll stand in this very greenhouse, surrounded by beautiful danger, facing a choice she can’t yet imagine.

I pull off my shirt, and the moisture-rich air of the greenhouse feels pleasant against my skin. I stare at myself in the reflection of the glass wall, and trace the tattoo that spans my chest:Eve, written in elegant script, positioned directly over my heart.

A reminder of the one area where my control has limits. The one weakness I’ve allowed myself to indulge in. The one weakness that would lead the others to destroy me if they ever truly knew about it.

In a few short days, Eve will enter Eden, and everything will change.

For both of us.

I’ve built my world into what it is, shaped it with my hands like a deity molding clay. Determining who thrived and who perished. I am the judge, jury, and executioner—and now, I’ll be Eve’s salvation.

Chapter5

Eve

THAT SAME NIGHT . . .

Pacing my tiny living room floor, glass in hand, I rack my brain for the connection I’m missing.

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