CHAPTER 105: JUST CHECKING IN

Just as Joey’s face blinked onto the screen, Ivy stepped out from behind the curtain. Winn froze mid-breath. She was dressed in one of her stage dance lingerie sets. His brain stuttered. "Oh—uh—hello—" He coughed.

"Hey, Winn," Joey greeted, casual, unaware.

But Winn’s attention had been completely hijacked. Ivy, pretending to ignore the fact that he was mid-video call, shot him a deliberate wink that could have melted steel. Then, with infuriating calm, she picked up the remote control and pressed play on the home theatre system. Music filled the room. R. Kelly’s Burn it up. The sound was low enough that Winn could still hold his meeting.

"Winn!" Joey snapped from the laptop screen, snapping him out of his trance. "Are you listening or having a stroke?"

Winn blinked rapidly, trying to focus on Joey’s face instead of the goddess performing ten feet away. "Hey, Joey—uh—yeah, I’m here. Just checking in." He leaned forward as if to hide the fact that his body language was screaming distraction.

"Right," Joey said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Everything okay over there? You look... flushed."

"Yeah, must be the—uh—heat." Winn tugged at his collar. His eyes betrayed him, flicking briefly toward Ivy, who had just turned her back in a slow, deliberate spin, her hair cascading over bare shoulders. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing.

Winn’s eyes darted back to Ivy again, before snapping back to the laptop where Joey was still talking—utterly unaware of the storm building on Winn’s side of the screen.

Joey’s voice was all business. "Everything is good over here. I checked in with the chief accountant today," he said, "The numbers look good, and without the investors’ funds we can still comfortably acquire another property from Trinity Estates."

Winn nodded absently, eyes glazed, every muscle in his body fighting a losing war between logic and lust. He had no idea what he was nodding to anymore—Trinity Estates could’ve been on the moon for all he cared. His pulse hammered in his ears, drowning Joey’s voice beneath the low hum of the music and the rustle of Ivy’s movements. Every time she turned, the soft light caught the curve of her body and his restraint frayed another inch. His fingers flexed against his thigh. His mind screamed focus, you idiot, but his gaze betrayed him again, sliding down to the delicate shimmer of black lace and the way it clung scandalously to her hips.

He shifted in his seat, subtly at first, pretending to adjust his posture, but it was hopeless—he wanted a better view, needed one. His head tilted just slightly, enough to catch the curve of her ass as she swayed to the rhythm, the lace leaving infuriatingly little to the imagination.

Joey’s tone suddenly sharpened. "Are you even listening to me?" There was a pause, and Winn could see suspicion dawning on his friend’s face. "What is going on there?"

"Nothing!" Winn said too quickly. He straightened, tried to look composed—but Ivy chose that exact moment to turn her head and blow him a teasing kiss. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. "How about I check in with you later?" he said, not even waiting for Joey’s response before snapping the laptop shut.

Winn leaned forward, pushing the coffee table aside in one smooth motion, his eyes locked on Ivy.

Ivy’s smirk deepened as she saw the shift in him—the moment his self-control snapped. She basked in the delicious power she had over him, the rare privilege of being the one who could unmake the famous Winn Kane.

When she saw him crook his finger in that silent come here gesture, she smiled in victory. Then she began to walk toward him, her hips swaying in time with the music.

"I hope your business call was productive," she teased softly as she reached him, stopping just out of reach.

"Oh, it’s about to be very productive."

The space between them vanished in an instant when he pulled her into his arms.

"I figured I owe you a proper lap dance." She grinned.

"Sweetie, you owe me so much more than that." He smiled and covered her lips with his.

*****

Evans paced the length of his office. His private investigator stood by the door, visibly nervous under Evans’s icy stare. The man was used to power, to control, to getting exactly what he wanted. He was the spoilt heir to the Everest’s dynasty.

"She looks exactly like Mary!" Evans snapped. He slammed his palms on the surface of his desk. The newspaper slid off the edge and crashed to the floor, the front page now face-up—a picture of Ivy, radiant beside Winn Kane, smiling at their engagement party. Evans’s chest heaved as he stared down at that smile. The same eyes. The same cheekbones. His pulse thundered in his ears.

"Sir," the PI stammered carefully, stepping forward, "this... this could be nothing. I searched the entire city for your sister. There’s no—"

Evans spun around. "Are you an idiot?" He jabbed a finger toward the photograph now lying on the floor. "This girl—this Ivy—is too young to be Mary. I’m not saying she is my sister. I’m saying she looks a hell of a lot like her. Do you understand what that means?" He took a deep breath, forcing his composure back in place. "I want every piece of information you can find on her. Everything. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," the PI answered quickly. He fumbled with his notepad, nodding as he backed toward the door. Evans barely noticed him anymore; his gaze had returned to Ivy’s picture.

The door opened suddenly, and the energy in the room shifted. His wife. The change in Evans was immediate, instinctive. The steel in his posture melted. His shoulders lowered, his clenched jaw relaxed, and a hint of light touched his eyes. "Get out," he said to the PI, his gaze never leaving her face.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Everest." The PI said to her while she gave a small acknowledgment with a small nod of her head.