Zadie’s POV
What the hell did I do?
My head was pounding like a drum solo, my mouth tasted like a mix of cheap whiskey and bad decisions, and my body… oh god, my body, felt like I’d gone three rounds in a fight I barely remembered winning.
The first thing I noticed? Pain between my legs, up my spine, muscles I didn’t even know I had were sore as hell. I rolled over… and froze. There he was. The man I let destroy me last night.
Bare chest. Chiseled jaw. That annoyingly calm, smug-as-sin expression… even in his sleep. Like he wasn’t the reason I was limping out of here with a bruised ego and probably internal damage. I tried to sit up and then caught sight of it. Him. That damn thing between his legs. Still soft. Still huge. Like… terrifyingly huge.
I blinked, horrified. “Jesus Christ,” I whispered. “No wonder I can’t feel my thighs.”
That thing looked like it needed a license. I was a trained federal agent. I’ve seen torture. Blood and death. But that dick? That was trauma. I clutched the blanket to my chest, heart hammering. Zadie-freaking-Hollis. Top of her unit. Always in control. And now? Somehow lost her virginity to a guy she couldn’t name, after giving him full access like a drunk cheerleader in a motel.
“Get your shit together,” I hissed to myself. I scrambled off the bed, snatched my dress from the floor, and half-hopped while yanking it up over my thighs. My bra was in my purse. My dignity? Gone. I didn’t look back at him. I grabbed my heels and bolted out the door like a burglar.
The morning slapped me in the face, cold, loud, and brutal. My heels clicked against the pavement as I booked it down the block, dress twisted, mascara smeared, hair looking like I got in a fight with a tornado and lost. My phone buzzed. Marlowe. Of course.
I answered. “What.”
“Damn,” he said. “Good morning to you, too.”
“I’m walking. Spit it out,” I said, already irritated.
“I was just checking if you made it home. You ghosted me last night.” Why sound like a nagging bitch? He is the one who left me last night.
“I’m alive,” I said, barely.
“You sound like a hangover with legs.”
I groaned. “Do you want something?”
He hesitated. “You okay?” I didn’t answer. “Z… did something happen?”
I exhaled sharply. “Just… text you later.” I hung up. Shoved the phone in my purse. And prayed the earth would open up and swallow me whole. Because how the hell do I tell my best friend that I just lost my virginity to a walking sex god… and I didn’t even ask his f*cking name?
I unlocked my apartment door and slammed it shut behind me. The silence hit me like a brick wall. Cold. Still. Judging. I tossed my keys on the counter and beelined for the shower. I didn’t even bother looking in the mirror, I already knew I looked like I’d been wrecked in every sense of the word. Hot water blasted down my back as I pressed my forehead against the tile. And then it all came rushing back. His voice. His hands. My moans. His commanding voice in my ear.
“Call me sir.” My stomach twisted.
“F*ck, Zadie,” I whispered, hitting the tile with my palm. “What the hell did you do?”
The water was scalding, but it couldn’t wash it off. The guilt. The mistake. I didn’t just lose control. I handed it over. Begged for it. Wrapped in a towel, I dragged myself to the edge of the bed, barely able to think straight. Then my phone lit up.
NEW SECURE MESSAGE — Chief Chris
NEW ASSIGNMENT — PRIORITY LEVEL: BLACK
Operation: Deep Infiltration
Cover: Corporate Assistant
Target: Saventino Corporation
Allegations: International weapons laundering, offshore accounts, suspected ties to organized crime.
Objective: Enter as a low-level staff. Establish routine. Get access. Build profile. Gather evidence. Stay quiet. Stay clean.
No names. No photos. Just orders. But one word stood out like a loaded gun: Saventino. My blood ran cold. Saventino was the kind of name whispered in dark rooms. No one had proof. No one had details. Just rumors. Now I was going to work for him. Undercover and alone.
New ID: Marina Velastro. Fresh résumé. Clean past. Simple story. The file is loaded.
My photo: slightly edited. Lighter eyes. Thinner frame. A tighter smile. Someone who looked polished, quiet, invisible. I stared at her. She didn’t look like Zadie.
She looked like someone who wouldn’t get wrecked by a stranger in the back of a car and leave without answers. She looked like someone who wouldn’t hand over her body and forget her mission before it even started. Because right now? That’s exactly what I’d done.