Iron Grace: A Steamy Sapphic Corporate Romance: An Ice Queen Billionaire and Her Competent Assistant Story by Mira Devaux

Author:Mira Devaux [Devaux, Mira]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2026-03-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13: The Safe House

The shattered remains of the SEC Executive of the Year award were still scattered across the black marble floor when the door opened. It didn't click; it burst inward.

Grace didn't flinch. She was leaning against the edge of her desk, ankles crossed, her shirt buttoned wrong, watching Maya try to salvage the ruined hem of her skirt with a stapler. But when the door flew open, Grace’s posture shifted instantly. The languid, post-coital haze evaporated, replaced by the rigid geometry of the CEO.

James Kwan stood in the doorway. He looked pale. James never looked pale; he looked tired, or bored, or amused, but never afraid.

"We have to go," James said. He didn't look at the stapler in Maya's hand or the bruises blooming on Grace's neck. "Security is clearing the elevator bank. The car is downstairs."

"James," Grace said. Her voice was ice water, dropping the temperature of the room back to sixty-four degrees. "I am in the middle of a debrief."

"You're in the middle of a target zone," James snapped. He stepped into the room, followed by two men in dark suits—Iron’s private security, the ones who usually stood like statues in the lobby. "We just intercepted a package in the mailroom. No explosives, but a very specific, very graphic note regarding your physical safety. And a canister of bear mace rigged to spray upon opening."

"A disgruntled analyst?" Grace asked, unimpressed. She reached for her blazer, sliding it over her unbuttoned shirt. Armor up.

"Former," James said. "Terminated six months ago. But the access codes he used to bypass the initial screening didn't belong to him. They belonged to a legacy account."

Victoria.

The name wasn't spoken, but it hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. A legacy account meant someone from the founding era. Someone who knew the architecture.

"I am not leaving the building," Grace said. She walked back around her desk, her heels crunching on a shard of crystal. "Lock down the elevators. reroute the mailroom ventilation. I have a call with Tokyo in twenty minutes."

"The package wasn't the threat, Grace," James said, his voice rising. "It was the distraction. We have a credible ping on a cloned badge entering the garage level three minutes ago. You are leaving. Now."

Grace slammed her hand on the marble. "I built this fortress, James. I do not flee from it."

Maya stood up. She put the stapler down. The clack was soft, but it cut through the tension like a knife.

"You're leaving," Maya said.

Grace’s head snapped toward her. Her eyes were wide, furious, the pupils still blown from the adrenaline of the last hour. "Excuse me?"

"You're leaving," Maya repeated. She didn't shout. She used the same tone she had used on the desk twenty minutes ago—low, absolute, and stripping away every inch of Grace’s title until only the woman remained. "The building is compromised. You are a liability to your own security team if you stay. We go."

The room went silent. The security detail looked at the floor. James looked at Maya, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline.

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