Page 99 of The CEO

From my position in the doorway, I watch Eve work with silent admiration. She’s transformed a corner of my study into her investigative headquarters. She sits with her laptop open, documents spread across the desk, photos and sticky notes arranged on a corkboard in patterns that only she fully understands. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, glasses perched on her nose. Her expression is one of complete concentration as she follows another thread in the complex web she’s unraveling.

She doesn’t notice me watching. Her focus when working is absolute—a trait we share despite our different methodologies. Where I calculate and plan with meticulous precision, Eve works through intuitive leaps and sudden connections. Her mind moves in patterns that continually surprise me—finding links between seemingly unrelated facts, sensing deception where others would see only smooth surfaces.

“The developer’s wife attended the same private school as the commissioner’s daughter,” she murmurs to herself, pinning another photo to her board. “And the school’s fundraising committee includes the bank president who approved the questionable loans.”

I smile as she steps back to study the new connection, chewing thoughtfully on the cap of her pen. In just three months, she’s transformed The Shadows’ operations in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Her journalistic skills provide entry points we’d never considered, her legitimate position at theTribuneopening doors previously closed to us.

The information she gathers flows seamlessly into our action. Where she uncovers corruption, we deliver consequences. Where she identifies predators protected by wealth or position, we ensure justice finds them regardless. Her investigations become our missions, her targets our subjects.

It’s a perfect symbiosis. Better than I ever imagined when I first calculated bringing her into my world.

“Are you going to stand there watching me all night?” she asks without turning around, a small smile in her voice.

“Possibly,” I answer, finally stepping fully into the room. “It’s rather compelling viewing.”

She turns then, pushing her glasses up into her hair as she fixes me with an amused look. “I’m just organizing information. Hardly riveting entertainment.”

“You underestimate yourself.” I move closer, examining her board. “You’ve identified four distinct connection points that our surveillance missed entirely.”

“Different approaches, different results.” She shrugs, but I can see the pride she takes in catching things my team overlooked. “Your people track movements, monitor communications, follow money. I look for human connections, who knows whom, who owes favors, who shares history.”

Her intelligence continues to impress me. Not just her natural aptitude for investigation, but her adaptability, her quick grasp of our operations, her ability to integrate her methods with ours without losing what makes her unique.

“Have you eaten?” I ask, noting the empty coffee cups that suggest she’s been working for hours without a break.

“Hmm?” She glances up, distracted, her mind clearly still following threads of corruption. “Oh, no. I got caught up in this.”

“I had dinner prepared. It’s waiting whenever you’re ready.”

She looks at her board one more time, then nods decisively. “I’ve got enough to present to the council tomorrow. The connections are clear, even if some are circumstantial.”

“The Raven can verify the technical details,” I remind her, extending my hand to help her up from her chair. “And The Heiress has financial resources to confirm the money trail.”

Eve takes my hand, rising gracefully despite having been seated for hours. As she stretches, I admire the strength evident in her movements. She’s been training with The Vigilante three mornings a week, another surprising development I hadn’t anticipated but fully support. The physical conditioning has added a new confidence to her already formidable presence.

“What?” she asks, catching my appreciative gaze.

“I’m just . . . proud of you. You are an incredible human.”

She steps closer, hands coming to rest on my chest. “Proud enough to let me lead tomorrow’s presentation without interference?”

I raise an eyebrow. “When have I ever interfered with your presentations?”

“Last week. When you ‘clarified’ my findings on the pharmaceutical executive.” Her tone is teasing, but the challenge is real.

“I merely added context regarding his previous activities,” I defend, though I know she’s right. Old habits of control die hard, even with her.

“The council respects me now, Damien. They trust my judgment.” Her eyes hold mine steadily. “Let me do this my way.”

I study her face—the quiet confidence, the earned authority. She’s right, of course. The other members of The Shadows no longer view her as my vulnerability or indulgence. They see her value, recognize her strengths, respect her contributions.

“Very well,” I concede, hands settling on her waist. “Tomorrow’s presentation is entirely yours.”

Her smile is worth the small surrender. “Thank you.”

“Now, dinner?” I suggest, aware that she likely hasn’t eaten since breakfast.

“Yes, but first . . .” She rises on tiptoe, pressing her lips to mine in a kiss that quickly deepens into something more urgent.

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