"And on the island... there are no neighbors to hear you scream."
The words drifted from Camille's lips like smoke, curling around Yanna's throat, tighter than the collar. The city below—the sprawling, chaotic grid of Makati—seemed miles away, viewed through the bulletproof glass of the 40th floor.
Yanna stared at the back of Camille's white suit jacket. The cut was impeccable, a sharp V that emphasized the powerful muscles beneath. But Yanna wasn't seeing the CEO anymore. She was seeing the woman who had just used her mouth to seal a multi-billion peso deal.
"Wait," Yanna said. Her voice was small, but it was there. "What do you mean, scream?"
Camille turned. She didn't smile. She looked at Yanna with the flat, predatory gaze of a shark scenting blood in the water.
"It means what it says, darling. Privacy. Total isolation."
"No," Yanna said, taking a step back. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor. "No. You said... you said we were partners. You said this was a strategy."
