Web Of Passion: CEO’s Ex-Wife Wants Him Back.

Prologue. The divorce papers lay on the mahogany desk like a death sentence. Olivia’s hand didn’t tremble as she slid the pen across the last line, her signature a s***h of finality. She had managed brands, campaigns, and millions of digital eyes, but nothing prepared her for managing the wreckage of her marriage to Damien Prescott, CEO of Prescott Holdings. “You’re really going through with this?” Damien’s voice was low but dangerous, the same tone that once made rivals cower. But Olivia wasn’t a rival, she was his wife, or had been. “I’m not going to be the woman who sleeps beside a man drenched in blood money,” she replied, her eyes sharp. She’d found the accounts, the shell companies, the shipments that screamed of mafia ties. She had loved him once. But love couldn’t bury secrets that stank of rot. Damien leaned back, his fists were tight. “Careful, Olivia. Besides, my hands are not exactly stained with anyone’s blood, so people might wonder why you’re so desperate to leave.” He leaned forward. “Maybe I’ll tell them you weren’t faithful… scandalous, don’t you think?” He added, a smirk tugging at his lips. Her pulse kicked. Her face etched with surprise. “Oh, you didn’t know I was aware of you and your little side toy?” He raised his brows, amused. She stepped closer, her phone in hand like a weapon, but her voice didn’t waver. “You dare not spill a word about it, Damien. Do it, and I will paint your empire black in front of the whole world. Every follower, every journalist, every investor, by the time I’m done, your name will fade away like nothing.” For a moment, silence pressed between them, broken only by the ticking of the clock. Damien’s smirk faded, replaced with something colder, something that promised this wasn’t over. Olivia turned, heels clicking against marble, and didn’t look back. She had walked away from Damien Prescott. ******************** Chapter 1: My hero. The bar was warm and buzzing, the air thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint hum of an old jazz track playing through the speakers. Cassie Monroe, nursed her cocktail, swirling the straw absentmindedly. It had been one of those days, deadlines, endless emails, her boss’s sharp voice ringing in her ears. All she wanted was a drink, a quiet corner, and a few minutes to breathe. But peace never lasted long. Out of nowhere, a man slid onto the stool beside her, slick smile, expensive cologne, the kind of man who thought the world owed him attention. “You look like you could use some company. Let me buy you another drink,” he said, leaning closer, flashing a grin. He had those golden tooth grills in his two front teeth. Cassie shook her head politely, forcing a small smile. “I’m fine, thank you.” But he didn’t move. He signaled the bartender anyway, ordering her another drink as her refusal was background noise. Then came the touch, his hand brushing her arm, lingering a second too long, the smirk widening when she stiffened. He dropped his voice. “Come on, gorgeous. Don’t play hard to get. I can make your night worth it.” Cassie pulled her arm back, sparking irritation into anger. She’d dealt with men like this before, men who couldn’t take no for an answer. Men who thought persistence was charming. Her voice sharpened. “I said I’m not interested. Get lost.” His smile faltered, then hardened. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Don’t be like that. Just one drink and one night. You won’t regret it.” Cassie’s stomach twisted, annoyance tipping into unease. She opened her mouth to tell him off louder this time… when suddenly,a presence hit before the voice did. A sharp authority, commanding enough to make the hairs on her arms rise. Then from behind, a voice calm but edged like steel rang out. “She said no.” Cassie turned, her heart stumbling in her chest. There he was… tall, impeccably dressed, carrying himself like he owned not just the bar, but the entire city outside it. His gaze pinned the man like a predator sizing up prey. He said while stepping closer, voice lower, colder, “You heard her. Walk away. Now.” For a moment, silence stretched. The other man shifted uncomfortably, his bravado faltering under that sharp, unblinking stare. With a muttered curse, he slid off the stool and slunk away into the crowd. Cassie exhaled shakily, gripping her glass. Her pulse raced, caught between gratitude and disbelief. When she looked up, his icy blue eyes were already on her. Dark, unreadable, and far too intense. “Are you all right?” he asked. And for reasons she couldn’t explain, Cassie felt the ground beneath her shift. He settled into the empty stool the man left behind, his voice low and smooth. “You handled yourself well. Most people would’ve let him linger.” She arched a brow, taking a sip of her drink without looking at him. “And most people would say thank you . So… thank you.” He let out a faint smirk, studying her, “That sounded more like an obligation than gratitude.” She finally met his eyes, steady but guarded, she replied. “Maybe because I didn’t ask for help.” He leans in slightly, not threatening, but commanding her attention. “No. But you needed it.” She swallowed, hating the way her pulse reacted to his voice… deep, confident, with that faint European lilt that makes his words feel heavier. She sets her glass down a little too hard, with a loud sigh. “Look, I’ve had a long day. The last thing I need is another man trying to…” “Take a deep breath, princess. I’m not him.” He cuts in, calmly but firm. Her breath hitches. He’s closer now, but he isn’t touching her. He doesn’t have to, his presence feels like gravity, pulling her in. “Then why are you still here?” She said, trying to steady her tone. His smirk faded, replaced with something more serious, his gaze locked on hers. “Because the moment you walked in, I saw you, and I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Silence ensued. She looked away first, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, but she felt his eyes still on her. She hates how her body warms under his attention. “Then I saw that pervert latching onto you like that, I knew it was my cue.” He added, with a smile. “So what should I call you? My hero?” She said softly, almost to herself. He gave her a slow, knowing smile. “Only if you want me to be. I’m Damien.” He stretched out his hand for a handshake. “Cassie.” She briefly shook his hands. Damien signaled to the bartender with a flick of his hand, the gesture smooth, he’s the kind of man used to being obeyed without question. Cassie folded her arms, skeptical. “I told you, I don’t need anyone buying me drinks tonight.” “I know. But I’m not buying it for you. I’m buying it because I want to sit here… and luckily for me, I have a reason to stay.” He glanced at her, unbothered. The bartender set down two glasses. Top-shelf whiskey for him, a fresh cocktail for her. He slides hers across the counter, his fingers never touching the glass, but the gesture feels strangely intimate anyway. Cassie hesitates, her eyes on the drink, then back to him. “You’re persistent.” With a slow smirk, eyes steady on hers, he said, “I prefer decisive.” For a heartbeat, she considers walking away. But something in his gaze… dark, commanding, and yet strangely protective roots her to the stool. She exhaled, picking up the glass. Their fingers don’t touch, but the brush of possibility is there, hanging in the air between them. “Just one.” She said softly, giving in. Damien raised his glass, eyes locked with hers. “One’s all I need.” They clink glasses. The sound is sharp and resonant, like the start of something neither of them planned for, but both of them feel it pulling them closer.