The rooftop lounge in Manhattan buzzed with the hum of the city's elite. Chloe Mitchell stood at the mahogany bar, swirling a martini with a precision that was almost lethal. She was wearing a power suit in a shade of emerald green that screamed money, and her phone hadn't stopped buzzing for three hours.
"You're going to burn out before the appetizers arrive, Chloe."
She didn't look up from her screen. "Burnout is for people who don't have a vision, Julian's Manager—I mean, Marcus."
Marcus, the man who had once been her rival and was now her partner in the Paradox & Prose venture, leaned against the bar beside her. He was older, seasoned by decades of industry wars, and he was the only person who didn't flinch when Chloe went into "shark mode."
"The deal with the streaming giant just closed," Chloe said, finally locking her phone. She turned to him, her eyes bright with victory. "We got the final cut. No creative interference. Maya gets to keep her world exactly as she wrote it."
Marcus raised his glass in a silent toast. "You're a monster, Mitchell. A brilliant, terrifying monster. Do you ever stop?"
"Why would I?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips. "I spent years being the 'loud friend' who people tolerated. Now, I'm the person they have to call if they want a hit. It's a much better view from here."
Marcus looked at her, his expression softening into something that wasn't strictly professional. He reached out, his hand covering hers on the cold marble of the bar. It wasn't a soft touch—it was a firm, grounding pressure.
"You're also the only person in this city who makes me feel like I'm actually standing still when I'm around you," Marcus murmured.
Chloe felt a flicker of something she rarely permitted: a loss of control. Marcus was the only man who didn't try to dim her light; he just tried to harness the energy.
"Is this the part where you tell me you've fallen for the 'brilliant monster'?" Chloe teased, though her heart gave a traitorous thud.
"This is the part where I tell you that I've booked a private jet to Paris for the weekend," Marcus replied, his voice dropping an octave. "No phones. No scripts. Just us and the best wine in the world. Consider it a merger of interests."
Chloe laughed, a genuine, sharp sound. She leaned in, her lips inches from his. "A merger, huh? I'm going to need to see the fine print on that, Marcus."
"I'll show it to you in the air," he whispered, before closing the gap between them.