Edison
Edison POV:
I watched her from behind my desk as she stepped into my office for the first time. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her shoulders curved slightly inward as if she were trying to disappear into the woodwork. She moved with a quiet, careful grace, her steps measured the subconscious habit of a woman who had trained herself never to take up space.
Meredith.
Even her name felt soft. Yielding.
Submissive.
The word settled heavily in my chest the moment I looked at her. For months, the four of us me, Dexter, Alex, and Jeremy had been sharing the hunt for one specific woman after Sebastian had decided not to go to America. We needed someone who could handle our world. Someone naturally obedient, responsive; a woman whose body and eyes would tell us every secret her words tried to hide.
When she finally glanced up, she stopped the breath in my lungs. Her eyes were a vivid, shifting blue the kind that changed like the sea with every passing emotion. Right now, they were a stormy gray-blue, swirling with nerves and desperate hope. Beautiful. Fragile. It was the exact kind of beauty that made a man want to possess it, protect it... and break it open in all the right ways.
"Listen, I'm a very busy man," I said, keeping my tone perfectly even. "I've looked over your qualifications, and you're the best candidate so far. We’ll do a trial run of two days. If it goes well, you're hired. You'll be paid for your time either way. Sound good?"
She nodded quickly, her gaze dropping right back to the floor. No argument. No negotiation. Just quiet, instantaneous acceptance. My blood heated at the sight. It was a perfect submissive tell.
"Use your words," I commanded, letting a trace of authority slip into my voice. I needed to test her. "I don't need a mute."
A delicate pink flush crept up her cheeks. "Umm, yes. Thank you for giving me a shot." She timidly offered her hand.
Her grip was surprisingly firm, but the moment I gave a slight nod of approval, her immediate instinct was to apologize. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"
A faint twitch tugged at the corner of my mouth. So eager to please. So quick to assume fault. As she waited for my response, her eyes lightened to a bright, anxious aqua.
I sent her out for coffee to see how she handled basic tasks. When she returned, she hadn't just brought the coffee she had added extra scones and a copy of the morning newspaper I hadn't even requested. I studied her over the rim of my cup. She was over-eager, a little clumsy in her desperate desire to anticipate my needs. She was exactly the kind of girl who would bloom under strict structure... and under multiple sets of dominant hands.
Throughout the afternoon, I kept testing her limits. I took several calls in fluent Italian while she stood by my desk, pretending to organize files and not listen. She had no clue I was actively arranging the execution of the rat who had stolen from our syndicate. Her innocence only made the contrast sharper: this sweet, blue-eyed girl walking blindly into our dark world without a single clue.
Later, in the conference room, she immediately sought out the corner, trying to make herself small. I didn't let her. I called her over and indicated the seat right next to mine. As she lowered herself into the chair, I caught the subtle wince, one of her hands unconsciously brushing against her ribs.
Pain flashed across her expressive eyes, deepening them to a shadowed sapphire. My jaw tightened. Someone had put hands on her recently.
The excuse she offered later about "falling down some stairs" was paper-thin. Dexter caught it, too; I watched his gaze sharpen from across the table, his knuckles whitening against his pen.
During the meeting, the others couldn't take their eyes off her. Alex leaned over and muttered in low Italian, "Why didn't you tell us you found a new assistant?"
"I haven't hired her yet. Trial run today and tomorrow,"I replied smoothly.
"If I were you, I'd hire her just to look at her. She’s a treat for the eyes,"he murmured, his dark gaze tracking her movements.
She was stunning, undeniably so. The soft curve of her body beneath her modest outfit was tantalizing. When she fetched water for the room, moving quietly with her head bowed, Alex made a crude, quiet comment about her ass that earned dark chuckles from the guys. I didn't stop them. We were all looking at her the same way our shared interest heavily laced with suspicion. In a room full of predators, she was an open book.
After the meeting wrapped, I offered her a ride home under the guise of courtesy. This neighborhood was no place for a girl like her to walk alone at twilight. Her eyes flickered with surprise, followed quickly by something else. Relief? Fear?
Yet, the stubborn little thing politely refused. I pressed her once more, mentioning I already had her address from her application, but she still turned me down. My suspicion deepened into cold anger. Why hide where she lived? What was waiting for her at home that made her choose sore feet and a dangerous walk over a luxury ride?
I let her go. For now.
As I drove away, my phone ringing with updates on the man we were hunting, I couldn't shake her image from my mind. Those mood-reflecting eyes, her instinctive obedience, and the hidden trauma she was fighting so hard to conceal.
She was beautiful. She was ours. And something was very, very wrong in her life.
Tomorrow was day two. I’d be watching even closer. If those bruises were what I suspected, Meredith was about to learn exactly what kind of men we are... and how thoroughly we take care of things that belong to us.
The Second Day
The office was dead silent after Meredith left for the evening. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the city lights flicker to life like signals in the dark. The faint, sweet scent of chocolate and sugar still lingered in the air from the homemade muffins she’d brought in. It was soft, domestic, and entirely out of place in a world built on blood and contracts.
She had thanked me quietly before leaving, her voice small but steady. That stubborn streak of hers was becoming more apparent; she wasn't the type to accept charity easily, even when physical agony traced her every movement.
Every time she had reached for something today, her body had flinched in tiny, involuntary ways. I had caught it clearly when she handed me a stapler fresh, distinct thumb-prints bruising the delicate skin around her wrist. Her attempt to tug her sleeve down had been almost frantic. A lie disguised as politeness. Accident-prone, she’d called herself.
The words didn't convince me for a second.
Dexter had noticed it too. He had lingered near the breakroom door after lunch, his jaw flexing as he fought down a volatile temper. He’s a good man, but he burns hot. I’d spoken sharply to him in Italian afterward, commanding him to keep his distance and stay quiet. The last thing Meredith needed was a confrontation that would make her rabbit before we could secure her.
A dark part of me wanted to follow her home myself, to rip apart whoever was laying a hand on what was mine. But she had rejected my ride with an underlying current of terror. Fear left a scent; she wore it like a perfume faint, unmistakable, and utterly suffocating.
My phone vibrated in my tailored pocket.
Jeremy’s name flashed across the screen.
"Edison," he said, the moment I answered. "You told me to keep an eye out if I saw her on the streets."
I straightened, turning away from the glass. Jeremy was the most calculating, cautious man among us. "Go on."
"It's Meredith. I spotted her near the liquor store on Seventh. She was crying, Edison. She bought a bottle of cheap whiskey and looked terrified, like she was heading somewhere she dreaded."
My pulse spiked, a cold, predatory instinct locking in. "Did you follow her?"
"I tried," Jeremy admitted, his tone tight. "She insisted she was fine, but I didn't give her a choice. I made her get in the car. The place she’s staying... it’s a shithouse, Edison. Real bad. She made me promise not to tell a soul where it is."
I sat down slowly at my desk, my fingers gripping the leather arms. "And you kept that promise?"
"For now. But someone is hurting her, Edison. You were right about the bruises. The second she could, she practically bolted from the car to stop me from prying."
I rubbed my temple, mapping out the strategy in my head. "Stay clear of the house tonight. Let's see if she shows up tomorrow. We need the full picture before we handle the situation."
"Understood," Jeremy muttered, his voice dropping an octave. It was clear he wanted blood tonight. But we couldn't risk scaring her away until we knew exactly who the target was.
When the line went dead, the walls of my office felt claustrophobic. I pictured her out there in the dark. Small, trying to be invisible, baking pastries in the dead of night just to please strangers at a job she desperately needed. Trying to earn a shred of normalcy while masking fresh trauma. That kind of resilience was rare.
So was a submissive nature born from survival rather than training. It wasn't willing yet. But it would be.
My father would be furious if he knew I was preparing to mobilize my men for a girl who hadn't even signed an employment contract.
But tomorrow would tell me everything I needed to know. It would dictate whether she walked back into my office with those brilliant blue eyes trying to pretend the world wasn't breaking her, or whether she disappeared entirely.
Either way, Meredith was no longer just an applicant.
She was a mystery. And I protect what I intend to solve.
