The elevator doors slid open, revealing a floor unlike any other in the city hospital—a private domain of polished marble, hushed luxury, and absolute control.

  Dr. Lakyus, now a top-tier figure in the hospital’s hierarchy, guided Britney through the space with the air of a queen showcasing her realm.

  "This," she said, gesturing to the first room, "is Hez’s private suite. No one enters without permission." The door was slightly ajar, revealing a sleek, modern bedroom—king-sized bed, floor-to-ceiling windows, monitors discreetly embedded in the walls.

  "And this," Lakyus continued, leading her to the second room, "is my office. And Renner’s." The space was a blend of medical precision and opulence—shelves lined with medical journals, a mahogany desk, and a champagne fridge tucked discreetly in the corner.

  Then came the third door.

  "And this," Lakyus said, her lips curling, "is where you come in."

  But the real centerpiece?

  Hez.

  He sat on a weight bench, dressed in bck athletic wear, his gaze locked onto her the moment she stepped inside.

  Britney’s breath caught.

  This was the man who moved millions like chess pieces.

  And now he was staring right through her.

  Despite her nerves, Britney forced a smirk. "So, you’re the infamous Hezri," she said, sauntering forward. "I expected… taller."

  A beat of silence.

  Then—Hez ughed.

  It wasn’t the reaction she’d braced for.

  "And I expected you to be more intimidated," he countered, standing. He wasn’t towering, but his presence was—like the air itself bent around him.

  Britney swallowed but held her ground. "I don’t intimidate easy."

  "Good," Hez said, closing the distance between them. "Because I’d hate to break you before we even start."

  His tone was light, almost teasing, but the edge beneath it was unmistakable.

  This was a test.

  And Britney knew it.

  The Tease – A Dance of Control

  Hez circled her, his gaze appraising. "Lakyus says you’re the best. Prove it."

  "Right now?" Britney arched a brow. "You just got out of a hospital bed."

  "And you’re stalling." He smirked. "Scared?"

  That lit a fire in her.

  "Of you?" She stepped into his space, close enough to feel his breath on her lips. "Please. I’ve trained egomaniacs before."

  Hez’s eyes darkened—not with anger, but interest.

  "Oh, this’ll be fun," he murmured.

  The moment she became more than just another gold digger.

  The moment she became his.

  The private hospital floor was nothing like the sterile, fluorescent-lit corridors Britney expected. Instead, it had been transformed into a sanctuary of luxury—polished marble floors, soundproofed walls, and an atmosphere of quiet dominance.

  Dr. Lakyus, now a commanding presence in hospital administration, led Britney through the space with a smirk.

  "This is where the real power lies," she said, gesturing to three secured doors.

  Hez’s Private Suite – A sleek, dimly lit bedroom with a panoramic view of the city. Monitors embedded in the walls dispyed financial charts, security feeds, and what looked like… biodata readings.

  Lakyus & Renner’s Office – A blend of medical authority and executive power. Framed degrees, a locked pharmaceutical cabinet, and a wine fridge.

  The Exclusive Gym – Britney’s new domain. State-of-the-art equipment, a recovery lounge, and a single weight bench where Hez sat waiting.

  Hez was leaner than she expected, his frame still recovering, but his presence was unmistakably commanding. Dark eyes tracked her every movement as she approached.

  "So," he said, voice low. "The famous Britney."

  She forced a smirk. "Disappointed?"

  "Not yet." His lips twitched. "But we’ll see."

  Hez wasn’t what she expected.

  He didn’t funt. Didn’t intimidate outright. Instead, he needled—little verbal jabs to see how she’d react.

  "Lakyus says you’re good," he mused. "But I’ve had trainers before. What makes you worth the investment?"

  Britney crossed her arms. "You tell me. You’re the one who paid for me."

  A beat. Then—Hez ughed, sharp and genuine.

  "Fair." He stood, rolling his shoulders. "Then let’s see if you’re as good as your Instagram likes."

  The tension eased—just slightly.

  Unseen by Britney, the monitor in Hez’s room updated:

  [ Britney Ivanov ]

  Familiarity: 42 → 65 (Mild intrigue. She’s bolder than expected.)

  Loyalty: 0 → 10 (A flicker of respect. Not devotion—not yet.)

  Hez studied Britney. His girls told him Britney was an obvious gold digger but he believed she was more than that.

  Her gorgeous look could compete with his other women but her rge and firm breasts were out of this world. Her curvy body was top-tier, something he rarely saw.

  As Britney demonstrated stretches, adjusting Hez’s form with careful hands, she couldn’t shake the feeling:

  This wasn’t just about fitness.

  Every touch, every exchanged gnce—it was a test.

  And she was only beginning to understand the rules.