Undressed By His Arrogance

His grandfather had been Winn’s anchor when he needed it most. The man had seen Winn through heartbreak, through betrayal—the day Winn found his girlfriend tangled up in another man’s arms. Winn had sworn to guard himself.

Which was probably why the old bastard had added that cursed clause to his will: it could only be read after Winn was married.

Winn’s mouth tightened into a grim line.His grandfather had known exactly what he was doing—tying family fortune to the one thing Winn had sworn off, commitment.

Across the desk, Tom leaned forward, his eyes glittering. "You need to get this done, Winn. Stop playing games. Find someone, marry her, and unlock the will."

Winn’s fists curled beneath the desk. His father’s words were a reminder that in the Kane family, everything—love, loyalty, even grief—came second to money.

"It’s been a year. How hard is it to find someone to get married to?" 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

"Dad, I really don’t have the time to talk about this. I need to make a presentation for the investors coming in today."

"You wouldn’t need investors if you had your hands on your grandfather’s wealth now, would you?"

"You know me, Father. I like to make my own way. I built the House of Kane from the ground up with my sweat, my blood, my time. And it’s going to stay that way."

"What’s so scary about getting a wife?" Tom pressed.

Winn exhaled through his nose, frustration clawing at his chest. "Considering I’ll be spending the rest of my life with the person, I think I should choose well, don’t you think?"

"It doesn’t have to be forever." Tom waved a hand dismissively. "We just need the will read. Then you can do whatever the hell you like."

Winn let out a harsh laugh. "So your brilliant suggestion is to pull a scam on my dead grandfather. The man who gave me everything you didn’t?"

Tom’s eyes flared with warning. "Don’t get smart with me. I am still your father."

"Fine, Dad. I’ll think harder about it." Winn lied smoothly. He only said it to get his father off his back, to end the relentless pressure that came every time they were in the same room.

He had no intention of playing groom in a charade marriage, but he knew better than to lock horns too long with Tom Kane. The man was stubborn in ways Winn had inherited—and despised.

Tom rose to his feet, straightening his suit. "Your mother says you should stop by for dinner tonight."

Winn sighed and swiveled his chair back toward his desk. "I’ll be there, but the moment you both start talking about marriage, I am out of there."

Tom shot his son a glare sharp enough to strip paint off the walls, but he said nothing further. He simply walked out.

Alone again, Winn ran a hand through his hair and exhaled. He put back on his glasses and forced his mind back to work. His laptop glowed with the architectural blueprints of the designer shopping mall.

It was to be his masterpiece, a playground strictly for the rich. And unlike the fortune locked away in his grandfather’s will, this mall would bear his name alone. His empire. His pride. His legacy.

He skimmed through every meticulous detail. He was ready to unveil it. He was ready to dazzle them.

*****

Ivy’s phone buzzed with a message from reception: The investors just arrived. Showtime. She smoothed her blouse, straightened her skirt, and hurried down to the lobby.

When the glass doors opened, a wave of sleek Dutch power stepped through. The investors carried themselves like aristocrats—tailored suits, cold blue eyes. Ivy swallowed hard.

"Welkom," she greeted, pronouncing it carefully.

The men blinked in mild surprise, and one of them arched a brow, visibly amused.

Ivy carried on, introducing herself, shaking hands, and slipping in the few Dutch words she had picked up—enough to charm, not enough to embarrass.

They chuckled, impressed, and she felt a spark of triumph in her chest. Score one for Ivy.

With poise, she led them through the lobby, the walls alive with art collections, and up the steps. The mirrored interior reflected her calm facade, but beneath it, her heart thudded.

She could almost hear Winn’s warning in her head: Today may be your first day. Mess anything up, and it will be your last.

The architect was already in the conference room.

By the time she seated the Dutchmen in the conference room, her palms were damp. She slipped away quietly, smoothing her skirt again, and headed to Winn’s office.

"Sir," she announced softly, catching Winn mid-focus at his desk. "The investors have arrived."

Winn shot up from his chair, and smoothed his suit jacket. He ran his fingers through his dark hair, the strands falling effortlessly back into place, then tugged at his tie until it sat in crisp, perfect alignment against his throat.

Ivy’s eyes flicked to him, admiring despite herself except for one tiny flaw.

She noticed it right away. A smear of crumbs clung stubbornly to the corner of his mouth. "You’ve got crumbs on your mouth, sir," she blurted, pointing discreetly.

Winn dabbed at his lips with the back of his hand, missing the spot entirely. He tried again but still failed. Ivy bit back a laugh, shaking her head each time until his jaw tightened in visible irritation.

Suppressing her grin, Ivy stepped forward. She plucked a tissue from the neat stack on his desk. "Here, let me..." she murmured, raising her hand carefully to his face. Her touch was light, as she wiped the corner of his lips.

His eyes dropped to her face, studying the crease between her brows as she focused entirely on him, oblivious to the storm she was stirring inside his chest. Her knuckles grazed his skin, and heat jolted through him—an unwanted, undeniable reaction.

What the hell was she doing, standing this close, daring to touch him as if he were just any man and not her boss?

"There," she whispered. "All done."