Elena Vargas adjusted the lapel of her navy blazer as she walked briskly into the towering glass building that housed Blackthorne Enterprises. Her heart pounded in her chest like a war drum, but her expression betrayed no fear. She couldn't afford fear, not when her father's law firm—her family's legacy—was hanging by a thread.
The elevator doors opened silently, and she stepped out into a lavish reception area on the forty-second floor. The space reeked of power: mahogany paneling, sleek marble floors, and artwork worth more than her entire firm.
"Ms. Vargas?" a soft-voiced assistant greeted, barely glancing up from her tablet. "Mr. Blackthorne will see you now."
Elena's grip tightened on her briefcase as she followed the assistant through a set of double glass doors. The office was vast and minimalist, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline. And there he was—Damian Blackthorne—leaning casually against his mahogany desk, one hand tucked in the pocket of his tailored black suit.
He was taller than she expected, broad-shouldered, with a presence that filled the room effortlessly. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and his sharp, chiseled jawline could have been carved from stone. But it was his eyes that caught her off guard—piercing, cold, and unrelenting as they locked on hers.
"Ms. Vargas," Damian said, his deep voice smooth yet commanding. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"This hostile takeover," Elena shot back, striding toward him. "You're deliberately targeting my father's firm. I want to know why."
Damian smiled faintly, the curve of his lips more dangerous than kind. "Business, Ms. Vargas. Nothing personal."
"It's personal to me," she retorted, her voice trembling with contained fury.
He studied her in silence for a moment, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "You remind me of your father," he murmured, almost to himself.
Elena's breath caught. "You knew him?"
"That's irrelevant," Damian said smoothly, straightening. "The fact is, your firm is drowning in debt. Blackthorne Enterprises can either take it off your hands or watch it collapse. Choose wisely."
Her pulse thundered in her ears. "I'll never let you destroy my father's legacy," she whispered.
Damian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Then prepare to lose everything, Ms. Vargas," he said softly, his breath brushing her ear. "Because I don't lose."
Elena felt her knees weaken, but she refused to back down. "We'll see about that," she said, lifting her chin defiantly.
As she turned to leave, Damian's low chuckle followed her out. It was a sound that promised both danger and temptation, and it haunted her long after the elevator doors closed behind her.