Julian Knight's POV
The boardroom is a battlefield, all gleaming mahogany and glass walls framing Manhattan's jagged skyline. I stride in late, deliberately, letting the weight of my presence settle before I even sit. Scarlett Valenti's already here, perched at the head of the table like a queen on her throne, red hair blazing under the fluorescent lights, emerald eyes slicing through me the second I walk in.
She's all sharp edges and defiance, her black dress clinging to curves that could start a war. I hate how she gets under my skin, how her mere existence feels like a dare I can't resist.
"Valenti," I say, my voice low, testing her. "You're looking… prepared."
Her lips curl into a smirk, sharp as a blade. "Knight. Nice of you to show up. Did your ego get stuck in traffic?"
I almost laugh. Almost. Her tongue's as vicious as I remember, cutting through the room's stale air like a whip. Most people crumble under my gaze, but not Scarlett. She meets it head-on, chin tilted, eyes blazing. It's infuriating. And, damn it, it's exhilarating.
"Had to make an entrance," I say, sliding into the chair across from her. "You know how it is."
The city's liaison, a nervous woman named Clara, fidgets at the table's end, clutching her clipboard like a lifeline. She's irrelevant. This is about Scarlett and me, two predators circling the same prize a three-billion-dollar waterfront deal that could redefine our legacies. I've spent years positioning KnightTech for this, my AI tech primed to revolutionize urban development. Scarlett's Valenti Properties is a wildcard, a scrappy upstart with a track record that's annoyingly impressive.
She's good. Too good.
Clara clears her throat, her voice trembling. "Ms. Valenti, Mr. Knight, thank you for coming. The city's decision to mandate a joint venture is final. You'll need to collaborate on the waterfront project—design, financing, execution, all of it. We expect a unified proposal by next month."
Scarlett leans forward, her eyes locked on mine, unyielding. "Let's be clear, Clara. Valenti Properties doesn't need a babysitter. I've got the best architects, the deepest investor pool, and a track record that speaks for itself. KnightTech's just along for the ride."
Her words sting, but I keep my face impassive, letting her think she's landed a hit. She's bold, I'll give her that, but she's out of her depth if she thinks she can dismiss me. "Funny, Scarlett," I say, my tone cool, "because last I checked, KnightTech's AI-driven urban planning tech is the only reason the city's even considering this deal. You're good at flipping properties, but this is next-level. You need me."
Her laugh is sharp, a blade wrapped in velvet. "Need you? I'd sooner need a root canal. Your tech's a gimmick, Knight. Stick to your algorithms and leave the real work to me."
The room tenses, her words hanging like smoke. Her lawyer friend Lila, I think stifles a grin, but Clara looks ready to bolt. Before I can fire back, the door opens, and Ethan strolls in, all tousled hair and easy charm, defusing the air like he always does.
"Whoa, am I interrupting a cage match?" he asks, grinning, his brown eyes flicking to Scarlett with that warmth he's so damn good at.
"Ethan," she says, her tone softening just a fraction. "Did you get lost on your way to the grown-up table?"
He laughs, dropping into the chair beside me. "Just here to make sure you two don't kill each other before tomorrow's meeting. Red, you're looking particularly lethal today."
She smirks, and I feel a prickle of irritation. Ethan's always been too good at this slipping past her defenses, making her smile when I only get her claws. I shoot him a glance, but he's already leaning back, oblivious or pretending to be. "Save your charm, Blackwood," Scarlett says, turning those green eyes back to me. "And you get out of my office. We'll talk tomorrow when I'm contractually obligated to deal with you."
I lean forward, my voice dropping, meant for her alone. "I don't need my hand held, Scarlett. But I'll enjoy watching you try to keep up."
Her breath hitches, just for a second, and it's a small victory. Her eyes flash with something anger, maybe, or something hotter. I want to push, to see how far I can take this, but Ethan cuts in, his tone light but pointed. "Alright, kids, let's table the foreplay for now. Clara, walk us through the terms."
Clara stumbles through the city's demands: shared costs, joint branding, a mixed-use utopia of condos, tech hubs, and green spaces. It's a vision I've been crafting for years, my AI systems already modeling traffic flows and energy grids. But Scarlett's not listening to Clara. She's watching me, her gaze a challenge I can't ignore. I outline my plan smart grids, AI-optimized infrastructure and she counters with her own ideas, each one sharp, practical, infuriatingly brilliant.
She's not just a pretty face with a sharp tongue. She's a force, and it's throwing me off.
"Your last project overshot its budget by ten percent," I say, leaning back, testing her. "Impressive, but sloppy. KnightTech runs lean. If we're doing this, we do it my way efficient, controlled, flawless."
Her nails dig into her palms, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Sloppy? My last project had a twenty percent higher ROI than your overhyped Singapore deal. Don't lecture me on control, Knight. You're the one who tanked a merger last year because you couldn't keep your ego in check."
I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to smile. She's done her research. Most people don't dare call me out, but Scarlett? She's fearless. It's maddening, and damn it attractive. "You've done your homework," I say, keeping my tone even. "Cute. But homework doesn't win deals. Execution does."
"Enough!" Clara squeaks, her clipboard clattering. "You two need to figure this out. The city won't tolerate delays. You're partners now, like it or not."
Partners. The word tastes like poison. Scarlett's lawyer friend shoots her a look, and Scarlett forces a smile, all teeth and venom. "Fine. I'll play ball. But don't expect me to hold your hand, Knight."
I don't respond, just watch her, letting the silence stretch. She's a puzzle—fire and steel, beauty and brains, and I'm already calculating how to unravel her. The meeting drags on, Clara droning about permits and timelines, but my focus is on Scarlett. Every move she makes every sharp retort, every confident tilt of her head pulls me in deeper. I don't do distractions, but she's rewriting the rules.
As we wrap up, Ethan lingers, catching her arm. "You okay, Red?" he asks, his voice soft, too familiar. My chest tightens, an unfamiliar sting I don't want to name. "That was intense."
She pulls free, flashing that defiant grin. "I'm always okay, Ethan. Just don't expect me to play nice with your boy."
He chuckles, but I see it the way his eyes linger on her, the way she softens just enough. I'm on my feet, heading for the door, but her presence follows me, a heat I can't shake. This partnership is a minefield, and Scarlett Valenti is the most dangerous thing in it. I've built my empire on control, but she's chaos incarnate. And for the first time in years, I'm not sure I want to win b
y crushing her. I want to know what happens when we collide.