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Three days had passed since the news about Felix and Kien’s attacks hit, and I couldn’t shake the fear clawing my gut constantly.

Reyes and Hellen brushed it off casual like it was nothing, but what if those sa goons who’d co after before were back? Were they the sa goons who attacked them?

Nightmares kept tossing at night.

I was in my mansion, slouched in my orange hoodie zipped loose over green shorts that clung to my thighs, raven hair twisted into a ssy bun stabbed through with my design pencil—sketches of new pet hoodies, shirts and bowties littering the desk next to fabric samples.

Three photoshoots and an ad shoot lood tomorrow, but profits were insane now; we’d pulled Herlos from bankruptcy, bought back the factories, installed shiny new machines.

Even the modelling gigs poured in from other companies, but I turned them down—my brand first.

Brewing my killer coffee in the percolator—dark roast bubbling with cinnamon and frothed almond milk swirling thick—the door knocked sharp.

Frowning confused, I padded over in socks and twisted the knob. There stood a chocolate-skinned woman towering over , drop-dead gorgeous—fit curves commanding in a crisp white shirt tucked into navy pants, police badge gleaming over her generous chest that made mine look modest despite my recent growth. Why were her breasts bigger?

Look, my breasts were good enough, but hers were huge.

"Ms. Emily?" she asked, dark eyes sharp yet kind, towering fra filling the doorway with easy authority, her white shirt crisp under the blazer, badge catching the office light.

"Yes," I said wary, my erald stare flicking quick to the badge glinting gold—heart skipping at the uniform, recent attacks flashing unwanted.

"I’ve seen you everywhere lately—billboards towering over highways, TVs blasting your ads during pri ti, posters plastered on every bus stop. You’re a total star," she smiled genuinely wide, perfect teeth flashing, chocolate skin glowing warm under.

Is she a fan? Wow, even cops are my fans!

"Thank you," I mumbled soft, cheeks warming rose despite myself, ssy bun tilting as I ducked my head shy.

"Oh—forgot to introduce properly. I’m Ivory Hughes, captain of the police." She extended a manicured hand smooth, nails neat buffed, palm callused faint from duty—her grip firm yet inviting as she waited expectant.

"You’re too young to be captain," I blurted unfiltered, then slapped both hands over my mouth—eyes bulging wide mortified, heat flooding my face crimson all the way to my ears.

She laughed bright and genuine, a rich lody echoing the mansion—dark eyes crinkling joyful at the corners as she gently pried my hands free from my lips with her strong grip.

Her warm fingers lingering a beat too long, calluses rasping soft against my skin before pressing a soft, chaste kiss to my knuckles—lips plush and heated against my skin, sending an unexpected shiver racing up my arm to prickle my nape.

"Well, thank you for the complint. I’ll take ’young’ over ’old hag’ any day." Her smile widened teasing, white teeth flashing perfect as she released slow, straightening to her full height.

"Well, you look around 24," I managed, still flustered, ssy bun tilting as I rubbed my kissed knuckles absentminded—the unexpected warmth lingering like a brand on my olive skin.

"I am 26. Too young—I know," Ivory replied wry, dark eyes twinkling self-aware, tucking a sleek loc behind her ear with easy grace—her blazer shifting smooth over those enviable curves.

"You’re beautiful too," I blurted next, cheeks flaming hotter, erald eyes darting to the marble side table where a forgotten decanter glead—why was my mouth running on autopilot today?

"Less than you, by the way. Shall I co in?" Ivory asked smooth, her voice velvet over steel—dark eyes locking mine with playful heat as she leaned a shoulder against the doorfra, blazer parting just enough to hint at the fitted shirt beneath.

No!

What am I even thinking?!

"Of course," I stamred quick, stepping back flustered—ssy bun bobbing as I gestured her inside, heart hamring wild against my ribs while the foyer air thickened with her perfu, which masked sothing spicy and commanding that clung to her chocolate skin.

Why am I feeling the sa thing when I saw Hellen and Reyes? I wondered, stomach twisting eerily familiar.

It was a magnetic pull deep in my core, the sa electric hum that had sparked unbidden with their presences, raw and insistent, leaving breathless and off-balance all over again.

Should I make her my friend too? Well, maybe this pull ant that I can trust Ivory, right? Like I trust Reyes and Hellen?

I led her into the living room—her heels clicking soft authority on the floor.

"Oh, is my perfu too strong?" Ivory asked, dark eyes narrowing playful as she caught my distracted inhale, that spicy command lingering thick in the air between us.

"Your perfu is fine, but you have a tangy scent too, like..." I trailed off vague, cheeks still warm, ssy bun slipping looser as I fumbled the extra coffee cup, I’d brewed absentminded earlier—rich steam curling up as I handed it over.

She sank onto the couch with easy grace, blazer stretching taut over her curves, and took the cup with a grateful hum—lips curving appreciative around the rim as she sipped.

"Thank you, Ms. Emily."

"Just my na is fine."

"Oh, I haven’t seen a star who’s this humble."

I blushed, scratching my cheek. "I am not humble!"

"You proved my point~"

"Please, don’t tease ."

"Ok, Emily. Point noted. So, what about my perfu?"

"Sothing... tangy..."

"Like citrus and adrenaline after a long shift?" Ivory finished smooth, dark eyes glinting knowing as she sank deeper into the couch, cradling the warm cup—her lips quirking amused, her eyes showing a knowing expression. "Cos with the job—chasing shadows leaves its mark."

"Ivory, not just... citrus and adrenaline... green chilli too..." I breathed, the words slipping out husky—nose flaring keen as that fiery edge sliced sharper through her aura, vivid like green chilies charred hot on a tawa, feral heat blooming low in my gut.

Her smile widened slowly, lips parting over gleaming teeth, dark eyes smouldering with a pleased expression as she set the coffee aside deliberately. "You have a good nose. Mostly ogas have this type of slling power," she rumbled deep, leaning in close enough for her breath to ghost my skin.

My face turned redder than a tomato. "Don’t sll , Ivory! I haven’t bathed, and no... I am not an oga."

"I never said that."

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