RUTHLESS DEVOTION: THE EMPIRE BETWEEN US

SHIFTING SHADOWS

Inside the insulated cabin of the speeding Porsche, the atmosphere was pure luxury.

Lowin Vance leaned his head back against the hand-stitched leather seat, a cold, triumphant hum vibrating in his chest following the brief call with his father. For the first time in months, his notoriously lethal mood was at its best. As the city skyline blurred past the tinted windows, his mind drifted entirely to the memory of Amilah tangled on her office sofa. A sudden, possessive thought crossed his mind. Maybe I should turn this car around, go right back into that boutique, and drag her straight to my office .

A dark, amused chuckle escaped his lips as he pictured it, him sitting at his executive desk, handling multi-million-dollar contracts, while his little bird was securely locked on his lap, completely unable to run away from him.

Up front, Mark caught his boss's reflection in the rearview mirror, his brow furrowing slightly. In all his years of service, he had rarely seen the cold CEO smile so genuinely, which could only mean one thing, Lowin Vance was scheming something devastating. Then, Mark's eyes caught a sharp flash of color. Against the hard, masculine line of Lowin's jaw, sat a glaring lipstick stain.

Quietly, Mark pulled a pristine linen serviette from the center console and extended it backward over his shoulder. "Boss... you have something on your face."

Lowin didn't take it. He merely tilted his head, his silver eyes locking onto Mark's reflection. "What is it?"

"A lipstick stain, sir."

Lowin didn't even blink. "Is that a problem?"

Mark cleared his throat, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. "Uh... boss, you have a very tight schedule today, and it is already ten minutes past 8:00 AM. You might not have time to fix it before your appointments begin."

"I don't want to fix it," Lowin murmured, his tone dropping into an untouchable, dominant drawl.

He casually swiped the serviette from Mark's hand and dropped it right back into the console holder.

Mark's eyes widened slightly in the mirror, but he kept his mouth shut.

Lowin laid back against the seat, his thoughts instantly recapturing Amilah's soft lips and the intoxicating, raw innocence of her responses. The mere memory caused a sudden, violent surge of heat to pool lower in his belly. His manhood twitched heavily against his tailored trousers.

Placing a hand over his forehead to mask the sudden, fierce reaction of his body, Lowin let out a low, rough murmur. "What on earth have you done to me, Amy?"

At the Vance Empire headquarters, the atmosphere in the executive waiting lounge was suffocating.

Victoria had been pacing the Italian marble floor for ten agonizing minutes, and the longer the clock ticked past 8:00 AM, the more her meticulous composure began to fracture into raw anxiety.

"Susan," Victoria hissed, her manicured nails digging mercilessly into her designer purse. "Are you absolutely sure he said 8:00 AM?"

"Yes, Victoria," Susan replied, not looking up from her tablet. "That is exactly what his executive assistant confirmed."

Victoria tightened her jaw, smoothing down the front of her dress. Every single male employee walking through the glass corridors had their eyes completely glued to her, but the heavy attention did nothing to soothe her nerves. She had spent a grueling hour dolling herself up this morning, transforming herself into a weapon of pure seduction. She wore a backless, midnight-black gown that clung to her curves like a second skin. A daring slit sliced up her right thigh, flashing bare skin with every majestic step she took, while the plummeting, deep-cut neckline exposed a scandalous amount of her perkier breasts. With her dark hair pulled up into a high, flawless ponytail, she looked like an untouchable goddess.

Hearing the muffled whispers of the men looking at her hungrily, a vicious, confident smirk finally returned to her lips. If ordinary men looked at her like this, she was certain Lowin wouldn't survive the sight of her either.

On the other side of the frosted executive doors, Tom was living a nightmare of his own. The assistant paced his office back and forth, his palms sweating as Lowin's brutal warning from the day before echoed in his skull: If she doesn't like them, consider yourself terminated.

"Am I going to get fired today?" Tom whispered frantically to himself, his chest tightening. "I literally begged him to spare me, and he didn't even reply."

BZZZ.

The sudden, sharp buzz of the desk intercom made Tom jump out of his skin.

"Tom. My office. Now," Lowin's deep, baritone command sliced through the speaker.

Without wasting a single second, Tom sprinted out of his office, his shoes clicking wildly against the marble until he threw open the doors to the CEO's primary office. "Boss?"

Lowin sat behind his desk, the morning sunlight cutting across his sharp profile. He didn't look up.

"Send Victoria in. Her manager, too."

"Yes, sir," Tom stammered, turning on his heel to escape the freezing aura of the room.

"And Tom," Lowin's voice rang out again, stopping the assistant dead in his tracks. "I haven't forgotten that you failed me."

Tom felt his heart stop in his chest. It's over, he thought, closing his eyes. I'm ruined.

"But I happen to be in an exceptionally good mood today," Lowin continued, his tone carrying a rare, dangerous lightness. "So I'll spare you."

Tom spun around, his eyes wide, completely unable to believe his own ears. "You'll... you'll spare me? Thank you so much, boss! Thank you-"

Tom's voice cut off abruptly. As Lowin turned his head toward the window, the morning sun caught the side of his face, clearly illuminating the distinct print of a crimson lipstick stain right on his jaw.

Tom blinked, completely stunned, before pointing a trembling finger toward his own face. "Boss... you have a stain. Right on your jawline."

Lowin paused. Then, he let out a genuine, deep chuckle, a sound so rare and vibrant that Tom instinctively took a fearful step backward.

"It's not a stain, Tom," Lowin murmured, his silver eyes flashing with a wicked, possessive pride. "It's a territory mark. Now, send those two in."

Speechless and reeling from the shock, Tom turned and walked straight out to the VIP waiting lounge. He cleared his throat, regaining his professional mask. "He is waiting for you inside."

Victoria immediately rose, her posture instantly shifting into a majestic, sweeping stride as Susan followed a pace behind her. Pushing the heavy oak doors open, Victoria glided into the massive office, a flawless, practiced smile plastered across her face. "Good morning, Lowin."

Lowin didn't even look up from the document in his hand. He merely lifted a single, dominant finger, gesturing coldly toward the seating area.

Victoria's smile stiffened slightly, but she maintained her elegant pace, heading toward the plush sofas. While Susan sat down immediately, Victoria remained standing, deliberately arching her bare back and pretending to meticulously fix the drape of her dress to maximize the view of her cleavage.

Rising smoothly from his desk, Lowin walked over to the lounge area. The space was arranged with two large sofas facing each other, separated by a glass coffee table. Ignoring Victoria's standing form completely, Lowin sat opposite Susan.

"Here is a six-month extension contract," Lowin said, sliding the file across the glass table. "Victoria can continue representing the Vance Empire fashion department if she agrees with the terms. Go through it and sign it if you're okay with it."

"Of course," Susan nodded, opening the folder.

Frustrated by the complete lack of an audience, Victoria finally sat down, deliberately scooching closer to Susan so she could force herself into Lowin's direct line of sight.

"There's no need to read it," Victoria interrupted smoothly. "I'll sign it."

Susan's eyes flew wide open in utter disbelief. She had only just scanned the very first clause of the document, and the trap was terrifying: If Victoria Jackson violates any terms of this contract or creates a public scandal before the six months are concluded, she will forfeit one hundred percent of her personal shares in Java Holdings, her father's company.

Before Susan could point out the clause, Victoria snatched the document away, grabbed the pen, and aggressively scrawled her signature at the bottom of the page.

Lowin watched the ink dry, a look of profound, icy pity crossing his handsome features. She was pathetically stupid. The cold realization that he had actually associated with a woman this empty-headed filled him with a sudden wave of self-disgust.

"Susan," Victoria said, her eyes locked onto Lowin as she crossed her legs, letting the slit of her dress fall wide open. "I want to have a word with Mr. Vance. Could you excuse us, please."

Susan rose slowly, clutching her tablet, completely horrified. She couldn't believe Victoria had just blindly signed away her entire inheritance just to show off in front of a man. With a tense nod, Susan exited the room, the heavy doors sealing shut behind her.

Lowin leaned back against the cushions, his expression turning completely unreadable. "What do you want?"

Victoria rose slowly from the sofa, her movements turning predatory. She glided around the glass table until she was standing directly over him. Leaning down deliberately, she placed one hand on the leather backrest right behind his head, trapping him in her scent. With her other hand, she slowly reached across his lap to grab her purse which was laying where he was seated, ensuring her perkier breasts were literally right in front of his eyes.

She retrieved her bag with agonizing slowness, standing upright with a triumphant gleam in her eyes, until her gaze locked onto his jawline.

There it was. A vivid, mocking crimson lipstick stain.

Victoria's breath hitched, a harsh, ugly scoff breaking through her perfect facade. So this was the real reason the ice king was late to his own empire. "We just ended things a few days ago," Victoria sneered, her voice trembling with sudden rage, "and you're already out having fun with whores?"

Lowin let out a low, dangerous chuckle that made the hairs on Victoria's arms stand up. "Whores, you say?" He tilted his head, his silver eyes turning dead and lethal. "You just spent a steamy, desperate night with a man old enough to be your father, Victoria. And yet, here you are, standing in my office trying to play the part of a cheap seductress. Don't you think that specific word suits you far more perfectly?"

Victoria's face drained of all color. "You-"

"As you can clearly see," Lowin interrupted, lifting a finger to lightly trace the edge of the crimson mark on his jaw, "I am taken. And I can assure you, my woman is nothing like you. If she were the one standing in this room right now, she wouldn't have to resort to pathetic displays of seduction. The mere thought of her is enough to make me hard."

He leaned forward, his gaze cutting through her like a scalpel. "Unlike you. Instead of feeling a single ounce of excitement looking at your body, I feel nothing but disgust. I genuinely wonder what kind of temporary madness drove me to you in the past, because looking at you now, I can't find a single redeeming quality."

Victoria stared at him, her eyes wide with horror. Every word felt like a physical blade constantly stabbing her directly in the heart. A single, heavy tear escaped her eye, tracking through her flawless makeup.

"It's her..." Victoria whispered, her voice cracking. "It's the woman from the gala, right?"

"I don't answer to you, Victoria," Lowin rose smoothly to his feet, towering over her as he adjusted his cuffs. "Mind your own business, instead of losing your mind over mine. After all... how exactly do you think I found out about your little pathetic plan last night?"

Victoria froze. Her mind raced frantically through the events of the last few days. The only people who knew about her plot were Jade Houston, herself, and her best friend, Rose Williams.

Realization hit her like a physical blow to the stomach. Her jaw trembled. "Are you f*****g my best friend?"

"I don't f**k with snakes," Lowin spat coldly, turning his back on her as he walked back to his massive executive desk. "Now, get the hell out of my office. And I highly advise you to actually read that contract before you do something stupid."

Victoria slammed her purse open, grabbed the contract off the table, shoved it inside, and stomped out of the office, her heels slamming violently against the marble floor.

Left alone, Lowin massaged his temples, taking a deep breath to calm the residue of anger rising in his chest. But the moment his thoughts shifted back to Amilah, and how fiercely she had insisted she never wanted to see his face again, the tension completely dissipated. A genuine, soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He pulled out his phone, dropping her a quick, possessive text.

Then, remembering how pale and thoroughly exhausted her body had felt beneath him on her office sofa, his brow furrowed with concern. He quickly dialed a familiar number.

On the second ring, the elegant voice of Daniella Vance filled the line. "Well, look at that. My son finally decided to call his mother first."

"Good morning to you too, Mom," Lowin murmured, a rare warmth entering his tone.

"Don't you 'good morning' me, young man," Daniella fired back instantly. "Why on earth didn't you tell me you were seeing someone?"

Lowin chuckled quietly, leaning back in his leather chair. "Annah told you already? Actually, that's the exact reason I'm calling. Could you have the kitchen prepare some of your nourishment soup and a few healthy side dishes? Have them packed carefully, I'll send Mark to pick them up shortly."

Daniella paused, thoroughly confused. "You absolutely despise that healing soup, Lowin. Why are you asking for it so suddenly?"

"They aren't for me," Lowin said, his voice dropping into a deep, proud cadence. "It's for your future daughter-in-law."

Tom stepped inside, holding a fresh set of documents, his face still pale but filled with profound awe. "Boss... Jade Houston signed the contract." He carefully placed the file on the desk.

Tom still couldn't comprehend how his boss had managed to sign a 50-50 ownership contract with a man like Jade Houston. Jade Houston was stubborn and greedy, unless he did something to offend the boss, and this was his way of redeeming himself.

"Thank you, Tom," Lowin noted. "Send Mark in."

Minutes later, Mark stepped back into the executive suite. "Are you busy at the moment?" Lowin asked without looking up.

"Yes, sir, but I can spare some time." Mark's primary focus was always managing the elite security protocols and intelligence detail, but he was always at Lowin's disposal.

"No, it's okay. Where is Logan?"

"He's in the security control room."

Lowin paused, his silver eyes lifting to lock onto his head of security. "Do you think I can trust him with my personal matters?"

Mark's posture went entirely rigid. "I can talk to him about the consequences of breaking trust."

"Good," Lowin nodded, sliding a simple, elegant written card that was neatly folded across the desk. "Send him to the Vance mansion. There is a package that needs to be delivered to Amizee Trends together with this card. And I know Logan knows the rules."

"Yes, sir. I'll remind him."

"Good. Back to work."

Mark walked out of the executive suite and descended directly down to the high-security control room. He popped his head inside the door, catching the younger guard's attention. "Logan, can I have a word with you?"

"Yes, sir," Logan replied, stepping out into the concrete corridor.

Mark turned around, his eyes piercing. "The boss has a job for you to make a delivery to Amizee Trends together with this card. Pick the package up at the Vance mansion and deliver it. No questions asked. And don't mention the boss's name under any circumstances. The card will do the talking, not you. Just deliver the package and walk out. Understood?"

Logan glanced down at the note, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he took the card. "Yes, sir."

Mark stepped closer, flashing a dark, chilling glare. "You know what happens when rules are broken. Don't disappoint me, because if you do..." He let the heavy silence finish the threat, turned on his heel, and left.

Logan scoffed under his breath, watching Mark disappear around the corner. Why does he always act so damn mighty? he thought, rolling his shoulders. I bet I could easily take him if we ever actually fought.

Turning around, Logan walked out to the front parking lot of Vance Empire and got into one of the security cars. The moment he settled into the driver's seat, his curiosity got the better of him. He flipped the written card open.

Inside, written in Lowin's sharp handwriting, the note read:

Enjoy your food, little bird. It's unhealthy to skip lunch, and don't work so late in the night. Take good care of yourself.

Logan scoffed, a mocking smile touching his lips. He pulled out his personal phone, snapped a quick picture of the note, and sent it to an unlisted number.

A response came instantly.

[Unknown]:Well, well. I didn't know the ice king had such a soft, pathetic side. I guess this woman must be truly special to him. It's time to act. Let's see exactly how much blood Lowin Vance is willing to spill for his little bird. Keep me updated on every move.

[Logan]: Yes, boss.

Logan quickly slid his phone back into his pocket and drove out toward the Vance mansion.

Down in the underground parking lot, Victoria was pacing back and forth in front of her sports car like a caged animal.

Her mind was in chaos. How could Rose betray her like this? What if Lowin was lying? But the sheer brutality in his voice didn't sound like a bluff.

When she remembered the vivid lipstick stain on his jaw, pure malice crossed her eyes.

"If I can't have you, Lowin..." Victoria hissed under her breath, "then neither will that shameless woman."

Pulling out her phone, her fingers flew across the screen. She quickly typed a message to her private investigators, a wicked, distorted grin appearing on her face. You messed with the wrong woman, b***h, she cursed, sliding the device back into her purse.

She opened the passenger door and slammed it shut. "Drive."

Susan started the engine, pulling out of the slot. "Where to?"

"I need to get a dress for Annah Vance's birthday party tomorrow," Victoria snapped, "and a gift too."

Susan navigated the car out toward the main street. "Actually, there's a new designer in town and her premier designs are getting incredible reviews from the elite circle. Should we check her boutique out?"

Victoria turned her head, her gaze icy. "You want me to buy a dress from a newbie designer?"

"That's not what I meant," Susan explained, quickly passing her phone across to Victoria. "She was at the gala. I watched her interview, actually, you can see it yourself."

Victoria grabbed the phone, her eyes gluing to the screen as the interview footage began to play. The second the camera panned and Amilah's beautiful, innocent face popped onto the screen, a violent rage erupted in Victoria's chest.

"This b***h is the new designer?" Victoria whispered, her voice shaking with hatred.

"Yes," Susan replied.

"Do you know where that Amizee Trends is?"

"Yes, they have the location on their website."

Victoria's lips curved into a terrifying, unhinged smile as she tossed the phone back. "Let's go."

She stared into the rearview mirror, her eyes burning with malice. She actually dared to seduce my man, Victoria thought, her chest heaving with hatred. Let's go see exactly how thick her skin is when I tear her little world apart.