'Thirty fucking minutes.'
That's how long she had been waiting for Lucian.
Vivienne Chase hated lateness. She hated inefficiency. She hated people who acted like the world revolved around them and Lucian Blackwell was the walking embodiment of arrogance.
Her manicured nails tapped against the marble table, sharp and rhythmic, each beat louder than the last. The secluded restaurant Clara had picked was silent but for the clink of glasses in the background. Every tick of the clock fueled her irritation.
'He's doing this on purpose. The motherfucker.'
She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them. Adjusted her blazer. Stared at the glass of water in front of her but refused to touch it. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of catching her fidgeting.
The door swung open.
Lucian Blackwell strolled in like he owned the building, the street outside, the entire damn city. His suit was immaculate, hair effortlessly styled, smirk already plastered across his face. Not a single hint of apology.
"Vivienne," he drawled, voice low and smooth. "Looking fiery as ever."
Her eyes narrowed. "And you're thirty minutes late."
Lucian slid into the chair opposite her, relaxed and unbothered. "Traffic," he said casually, flicking his fingers at the waiter. "You know how it is."
"You could have texted or sent a goddam email," she snapped.
"But then I'd ruin the suspense." His smirk deepened. "Besides, the sight of you glaring at me? Worth it."
Her nails dug into her palm under the table. 'God, if murder weren't illegal..'
She inhaled sharply. "Let's get this over with. As you're aware, we're dealing with a scandal that threatens both our reputations. We need to work together—"
Lucian cut her off with a lazy wave of his hand. "Correction, 'your' reputation mine will be fine. These things blow over, they always do."
Vivienne's chair scraped loudly as she straightened. "Are you out of your mind? This isn't just about a rumor. Investors are whispering. Stocks are already reacting and the fact that your smug face is in every photo isn't helping."
Lucian picked up the drink the waiter had just placed in front of him, taking his sweet time before replying. "I'd say it helps, actually. People like a good story. Ice King, Fire Queen… has a nice ring to it."
Her voice rose, sharp enough to make nearby diners glance over. "This isn't some fairy tale headline, Blackwell! This is my career, my company, my life's work and I'll be damned if I let it get dragged into your circus."
Lucian leaned back, utterly calm, "I never said it was a fairy tale headline besides your reputation is the one that is been seriously affected otherwise you won't ask for a meeting."
Vivienne's patience cracked. "Don't flatter yourself. The only reason I'm here is because my assistant suggested that I speak to you. If it were up to me, I wouldn't waste a single second on your sorry excuse for professionalism."
"Professionalism," he echoed, amused. "From the woman who just slammed her hand on the table in a public place? Please."
Her cheeks burned, but not from embarrassment from rage. "You infuriating bastard."
Lucian's smirk only widened, but there was steel behind his gaze now. "Careful, Chase. You're starting to sound emotional. And the last thing you want is for people to think the Fire Queen's losing her cool."
She sucked in a breath, forcing herself to lean back in her chair. Her tone dropped, low and cold. "Don't mistake composure for weakness. If you think I won't burn this entire rumor mill to the ground to protect what's mine, you don't know me at all."
Lucian's expression flickered, just slightly. Then his jaw ticked, betraying a crack in the ice.
Vivienne pressed the advantage. "Your cousin Sebastian is waiting for a reason to pounce. You think you're untouchable, but we both know he'd kill to paint you as incompetent. If this scandal doesn't fade, he'll use it. And when he does, you'll lose everything your father left you."
For a heartbeat, his smirk faltered.
'Got you,' she thought.
But then, just as quickly, his composure snapped back into place, colder than ever. He leaned forward, his voice silk over a blade. "Say Sebastian's name one more time, and I'll make sure every paper in this city runs a front-page spread about 'your' skeletons."
Her lips curved into a dangerous smile. "Go ahead. At least I don't pretend to be untouchable while drowning in scandals every other month."
The table between them was no longer just marble it was a battlefield.
Lucian's tone turned razor-sharp. "You came here for a solution, Vivienne, but you don't actually want one. What you want is control and newsflash you don't control me."
"And you don't control me either," she shot back instantly.
They locked eyes, neither blinking, neither yielding. The air between them felt charged, combustible, like two storm fronts colliding.
Finally, Vivienne stood, grabbing her purse. "This was a waste of time."
Lucian didn't move. He leaned back in his chair, cool as ever, though his eyes were darker now, stormier. "Walk away if you want but don't pretend you don't need me."
Vivienne paused, her back rigid, every muscle taut with restraint. She didn't turn. Didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her face.
Her voice, when it came, was clipped and final. "I need solutions, Blackwell. Not another problem with a smirk."
And with that, she walked out, heels striking the marble like gunshots.
Lucian watched her go, sipping his drink with infuriating calm. But the way his jaw clenched after she disappeared told the truth. She'd gotten under his skin just as he had under hers.
From across a distance, a faint glint caught the light.
Click.