The boardroom gleamed with polished mahogany and cold steel accents, the kind of room where fortunes were made or destroyed with a signature. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering skyline, and the morning sun cut sharp lines across the long table where executives sat in uneasy silence.
At the head of the table, Adriana Veyra sat like a queen on her throne.
Scarlet silk draped her form, understated yet commanding. She didn't need to raise her voice; her presence alone dictated order. Every executive leaned forward, eyes glued to her, pens poised like weapons ready to obey.
And at the opposite end of the table, Damian Hale leaned back in his chair, one arm thrown casually over the rest. His jaw was tight, but his smile was infuriatingly calm, like a wolf disguised as a man.
The war had begun.
"Gentlemen," Adriana said smoothly, her gaze sweeping the table before landing on Damian. "And Mr. Hale. As of this morning, the merger between Veyra Holdings and Orbis International is finalized. Our empire just doubled."
A murmur of approval rippled through the executives, but Damian's smirk only deepened.
"You call it a merger," he said, his tone lazy but his words sharp. "I call it theft."
Gasps echoed. No one had ever spoken to Adriana like that in her own boardroom.
Adriana arched one elegant brow. "Theft?"
Damian leaned forward, fingers steepled. "I had Orbis secured. Months of negotiation. My team put in the work. And then you swoop in at the eleventh hour with your checkbook and snatch it out from under me. Where I come from, that's called stealing."
Adriana didn't flinch. Her lips curved into a faint smile that held no warmth. "Where I come from, Mr. Hale, that's called business. You had a deal. I made a better one. The fault lies not with me but with your inability to close."
The executives shifted uncomfortably. Tension coiled around the room like smoke, suffocating.
Damian's jaw flexed. "You're underestimating me."
"And you," Adriana said, her eyes locking onto his with the precision of a blade, "are overestimating yourself."
The room froze.
Damian's blood hummed, fury mixing with a heat he refused to name. Every nerve in his body screamed to snap back, to crush her arrogance. But beneath the rage was something worse: an undeniable pull, a sick fascination with the woman dismantling him in front of an audience.
He forced a smile. "Bold words. But remember this, Adriana"
"Miss Veyra," she corrected, her tone crisp.
His eyes narrowed. "Fine. Miss Veyra. You might have won this round, but you've just made yourself a very dangerous enemy."
Her laughter was soft, low, like velvet drawn across steel. "Oh, Mr. Hale… enemies are the only kind of company worth keeping."
The meeting dissolved soon after, executives fleeing with files and nervous glances. But Damian didn't move. He stayed seated at the far end of the table, watching her as she gathered her papers.
When the room finally emptied, silence fell like a gauntlet between them.
"You enjoyed humiliating me," he said.
Adriana didn't look up. "I don't waste energy on enjoyment. It was strategy."
He stood, closing the distance between them. The polished floor echoed under his shoes, each step an act of defiance.
"And what's your strategy now?" he asked, his voice low. "Keep me beneath your heel until I break?"
Now she looked at him, really looked. Her eyes were dark storms, unreadable and endless. "Break? No. Men like you don't break. You burn. And I'll enjoy watching the flames."
His breath caught, though he masked it with a scoff. "Careful, Adriana. Play with fire, and you'll get burned too."
She tilted her head, lips curving into a smile that was more threat than promise. "Who says I'm afraid of fire?"
For a moment, the air between them ignited. He was close enough to smell the faint trace of jasmine and danger on her skin. Close enough to imagine, for one reckless second, what it would feel like to touch her.
But she stepped back, severing the tension with surgical precision.
"This conversation is over, Mr. Hale," she said coolly, gathering her documents. "I have an empire to run. Try not to get in my way again."
He grabbed her wrist before she could walk past.
Her eyes snapped to his hand.
"Let go," she warned.
"Not until you admit it," he said, voice low, dangerous.
"Admit what?"
"That you felt it too."
A silence fell heavy. Her gaze bore into his, unflinching, unreadable. For a moment, he thought she might deny it. Then her lips curved into the faintest of smiles.
"Mr. Hale," she murmured, her voice like silk over a blade, "the only thing I felt… was disappointment."
And with that, she yanked her hand free and swept out of the room, leaving him standing alone in the wreckage of his pride.
Damian's pulse thundered in his ears. Fury warred with desire, pride with temptation.
He should hate her.
He did hate her.
So why did he already know he would chase her into the flames?