"Front page of every business paper," Jake muttered, tossing a stack of magazines onto Samantha's desk. "Apparently, 'The Red Queen Meets Her Match' is the headline of the week."
Samantha didn't look up. She was already scrolling through the online articles on her tablet, expression unreadable. Each image captured her and Marcus Reed at the gala — laughing lightly, standing too close, eyes locked in that electric tension that made journalists go feral.
"They do love a fantasy," she murmured, voice calm. "Two billionaires, one ballroom, a war disguised as waltz."
Jake leaned against her desk, arms crossed. "They're calling you the power couple who could change the global market. You know that's not helping, right?"
Her lips curved slightly. "Good. Pressure makes cracks show."
Jake gave her a pointed look. "You're enjoying this."
