Page 8 of His Ruthless Match

It was a seamless transition, one I’d practiced so many times I didn’t even have to think about it anymore. In my panther form, my fur was pitch black, blending perfectly with the darkness around me.

Silent. Stealthy. Deadly.

I scaled the fire escape with ease, my claws gripping the metal as I climbed to the top floor. The penthouse balcony was draped in soft lights, the glass doors leading into the apartment spotless enough to reflect the city lights below. I crouched low, keeping to the shadows as I peered inside.

Eva was pacing the floor, phone pressed to her ear. She wore a pair of short shorts and a tight tank top, no bra, her figure perfectly outlined in the soft interior lighting. Her long black hair swayed as she moved and gleamed like a dark silk curtain as it tumbled over her shoulders. Her skin was smooth, warm-toned, and her posture sharp, commanding, like every step she took demanded attention.

I couldn’t deny that she was gorgeous—infuriatingly so—but then I remembered what a brat she was, and the thought lost its charm.

She gestured with her free hand as she spoke, her voice muffled through the glass but animated enough to make her frustration obvious. I stayed there for nearly an hour, watching as she moved through her routine.

She made coffee at one point, standing by a sleek espresso machine that probably cost more than my car. She sat at the dining room table, flipping through file after file with a furrowed brow, occasionally scribbling something in the margins. She was focused. Obsessive, even. A workaholic who didn’t know how to take a break.

Figured it would run in the family.

She wasn’t very interesting, though. No wild parties. No signs of anyone watching her besides me. Just a penthouse, a coffee mug, and too many documents. I sighed internally.This might actually be the most boring job I’ve ever been assigned.

When she finally stretched and rubbed her neck, I decided I’d seen enough. She seemed fine to me. No signs of trouble. No imminent danger. This whole thing felt like overkill.

I climbed back down the fire escape, slipping into the alley and shifting back into my human form. My clothes waited for me in the pocket, perfectly intact, not a wrinkle in sight. Handy, that.

As I made my way back to the car, I muttered under my breath, “Spoiled, boring human. This is going to suck.”

I could already feel the headache forming. Tomorrow, I’d check in again. From a distance. And hopefully, I wouldn’t end up getting sprayed in the face. Again.

3

EVA

The conference room felt like a fortress with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline, sleek black furniture reflecting the sharp lines of the city, and walls that somehow managed to feel impenetrable despite being glass. I sat at the head of the table with a stack of meticulously arranged folders in front of me. This was my space. My battlefield. I was in control here.

Across from me, Genevieve Witt looked anything but the Hollywood royalty the world saw on red carpets and magazine covers. She wore a tailored blazer over a simple blouse, her golden hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Even with her flawless bone structure and striking green eyes, she couldn’t hide the exhaustion etched on her face. Her posture was tense, her shoulders rigid, and the dark circles under her eyes told me she hadn’t been sleeping much.

“I don’t want to sugarcoat this,” I began. “This isn’t just about putting out fires, Genevieve. We have to rebuild your narrative and take control of the story before it takes control of you. From my research, these posts are tame compared to other clients I’ve assisted. It’s not beyond saving. I can fix this. But for this towork, I need you to trust me completely. I need you to let me handle the legal proceedings, the media, and the investigation.”

She nodded hesitantly and twisted the delicate silver ring on her right hand. “It’s just...” Her voice faltered, but she cleared her throat and started again more clearly. “I don’t even know where this is coming from. I haven’t done anything to warrant these leaks. Most of it isn’t even true, but they’re still destroying my reputation! How do I even fight back against something like this?”

Her vulnerability surprised me more than I’d expected. Genevieve Witt wasn’t supposed to be fragile. She was supposed to be an untouchable Hollywood powerhouse who walked through life with effortless confidence. But sitting here in my office, she was just another person crushed under the weight of a system designed to destroy anyone who dared falter.

“You fight back by letting me do what I do best,” I said calmly but firmly. “I’ve seen cases like this before, and trust me, the system thrives on intimidation. But I don’t scare easily, and neither should you. We’re going to dismantle this, piece by piece. First, we go after the source of these leaks—figure out who’s behind this and why. Whoever decided to target you will regret it.”

A flicker of hope broke through the haze of defeat. “You really think you can fix this?”

“I don’t think,” I said. “I know.”

I could see the shift in her. Her posture straightened just enough to suggest she was starting to believe me. Good. Hope was a powerful tool, and I intended to use every bit of it to rebuild her confidence.

The door opened, and Theo swept in with a burst of energy. He had a stack of papers in one hand and his phone in the other. “Quick update,” he said, setting the documents in front of me.“The injunction request against that tabloid? Filed this morning. The judge should review it by the end of the day.”

“Perfect.” I signed the top sheet and handed it back to him. “What’s next?”

Theo hesitated. “There’s chatter about a second round of photos. Someone’s threatening to leak them by the weekend.”

Genevieve stiffened, her breath catching audibly. I reached across the table and put my hand on hers.

“Don’t panic,” I said firmly. “Theo, I want our investigator on this immediately. Track the IP addresses of any suspicious activity around her accounts. If someone’s planning a second wave, we’ll cut them off before they can even hit send.”

“On it,” Theo said, already typing on his phone as he left the room.