Amara's POV
The elevator doors whispered open, spilling me into a world of glass, steel, and money I didn't belong here. Not anymore. Not after everything
But Adrian Blackwell had never cared about what I wanted. And he still didn't
I smoothed a hand over the black silk blouse tucked into my tailored trousers and adjusted the strap of my leather bag on my shoulder. The heels I'd chosen clicked with precision against the polished marble floors, each sound sharp, defiant, a reminder that I wasn't the same girl he'd once shattered I'd come armed. Not with weapons, but with armor.
Red lipstick. My favorite pair of stilettos. A mask of calm I'd perfected after years of rebuilding myself from the wreckage he'd left behind.
I told myself I didn't care what he'd think when he saw me again. That the heat curling in my stomach wasn't nerves.
It was anger. Only anger.
"Ms amara ?" the receptionist called. Her tone was warm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of curiosity. "Mr. Blackwell is expecting you. Top floor. Straight ahead."
Of course he was.
I crossed the lobby without hesitation, even as my pulse throbbed in my throat. The doors to his office opened with a quiet hiss, and there he was
Adrian Blackwell.
He stood by the wall of windows, his tall frame framed by the skyline sprawling beneath him. Midnight Armani clung to broad shoulders, his hands tucked casually in his pockets as if he had all the time in the world. A silver watch gleamed against tan skin, catching the light every time he shifted.
He hadn't changed. Worse he had.
Sharper. Colder. Stronger.
If time was supposed to dull his edges, it had only carved him into something deadlier.
And when his gaze lifted dark, deliberate the impact was physical.
"Amara." His lips curved slightly, but it wasn't warmth. It was control. It was a reminder of the power he wielded just by existing. "It's been a while."
I forced my chin up, ignoring the way his voice slid over me, smooth enough to tempt, sharp enough to cut.
"Two years," I said flatly. "Not that I was counting."
One dark brow lifted. "Of course you were."
Arrogant bastard.
I dropped my bag on the chair across from his desk and crossed my arms. "You didn't have to drag me here with your little stunt. Cutting off all my contracts? Intimidating my clients into silence? Really, Adrian? Petty isn't your style."
He moved away from the window, unhurried, every step deliberate. "It worked, didn't it?"
The air shifted when he stopped in front of me. Close enough for his cologne rich spice and smoke to wrap around me. Close enough that my pulse betrayed me, kicking against my ribs like a trapped animal.
I tilted my head, smiling sweetly. "Only because blackmail is apparently the only language you speak."
"Don't confuse strategy with blackmail, sweetheart." His voice was calm. Too calm. "I needed your attention. Now I have it."
I laughed, sharp and brittle. "What could possibly be so important that you had to ruin my business for it?"
He didn't flinch. "Julian."
The name landed like a knife in my chest.
I blinked. "Julian?"
His jaw tightened, the only sign of a crack in his composure. "He betrayed me. Breached my systems. He embedded code no one else has been able to trace."
Julian Hart. Adrian's best friend. The golden boy who'd been by his side at every gala, every meeting. The one man I thought had been his brother in everything but blood.
And the man I had once trusted almost as much as I trusted Adrian.
A fresh wave of bitterness burned in my throat.
"You expect me to believe that?" I asked. "That the great Adrian Blackwell the man who thinks he can control entire cities can't handle a little cyber attack?"
"Not little." His tone dropped, smooth but weighted. "He's buried code that's bleeding me dry. Slowly. Quietly. And the longer it runs, the more damage it does."
I swallowed hard, torn between disbelief and fury.
"And you need me."
His gaze locked with mine, steady, merciless. "Yes."
The word was simple. But it cracked something inside me.
This was the man who'd destroyed me. The man who left me thinking I'd been nothing more than a pawn in his ruthless games. And now he had the audacity to need me?
I shook my head, laughter spilling from my lips. "Unbelievable. You burn my life to the ground, and now you expect me to save yours."
"Not expect," Adrian corrected, stepping closer. "Require."
I stiffened when he reached past me, bracing one hand on the edge of his desk. The move caged me in without touching me, his presence overwhelming.
"You'll do this, Amara," he said softly, dangerously. "Not because you want to. But because I don't give you a choice."
Heat coiled low in my stomach, unwelcome, infuriating. My nails bit into my palms, the urge to slap him battling the urge to shatter.
I forced my voice steady. "You don't get to own me anymore."
His eyes darkened, something raw flashing for just a second before the mask slammed back in place. "Sweetheart, I never stopped."
The silence between us pulsed with everything
we weren't saying. Everything we'd buried.
I hated him. I hated the way my chest ached just standing this close.
But I also hated that some small, traitorous part of me had missed this. Missed him.
And that was the cruelest truth of all.
---
[End of Chapter One]