The grand ballroom of the La Rochelle Hotel shimmered under a cascade of golden chandeliers. It was the annual Business Elite Gala, where the richest and most ruthless gathered to flaunt their power. Evelyn Sinclair, CEO of Sinclair Enterprises, moved through the crowd like a queen surveying her empire. Her fitted crimson gown clung to her curves, a stark contrast to the cool, calculated expression on her face.

She had no patience for small talk. Her mind was set on one thing: the upcoming bid for the Crestview project, a deal that could solidify her company as an unstoppable force. But as she reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, a deep, familiar voice stopped her cold.

“Evelyn.”

She turned, already knowing who it was. Damien Knight.

He was a commanding presence in his sharp black tuxedo, his dark eyes holding a knowing glint. The sight of him sent an unwelcome thrill down her spine. Damien was more than just a competitor—he was a thorn in her side, a constant challenge. Every major deal she pursued, he was there, either one step ahead or dangerously close behind.

“Damien,” she greeted smoothly, raising her glass. “Enjoying the party?”

His lips curled into a smirk. “I was. Until I saw you. Now, I find myself... distracted.”

She scoffed, ignoring the way her pulse quickened. “Try to stay focused. You’ll need all your energy for when I crush you at the Crestview bid.”

His chuckle was deep, rich. “Bold of you to assume you’ve already won.”

She met his gaze head-on, the air between them thick with unspoken tension.

“I don’t assume, Damien. I know.”

For a moment, he said nothing, simply watching her with an intensity that made her breath hitch. Then, he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low.

“You know, Evelyn, for all our battles in the boardroom, I wonder… do you ever tire of fighting me?”

The question sent a ripple of something dangerous through her. Because the truth was, she didn’t. Their rivalry was intoxicating, a game neither could walk away from. But what unsettled her more was the heat beneath their words—the undeniable chemistry they both pretended wasn’t there.

She refused to let him see her falter. “Not in the slightest,” she whispered back, lips curving in a challenge. “Winning is far too satisfying.”

His smirk deepened. “Then let’s make this interesting, shall we?”

Before she could ask what he meant, he clinked his glass against hers walking away and disappeared into the crowd.

Evelyn exhaled slowly, shaking off the strange tension in her chest. Damien Knight was playing a game, but she refused to be a pawn. She would win the Crestview bid, no matter what it took. By hook or by crook.

Yet, as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the memory of his gaze. And deep down, she knew—this battle between them was far from over.

It was only just beginning.

The morning after the gala, Evelyn sat in her sleek corner office, a panoramic view of the city stretching before her. The skyline, normally a symbol of her success, did little to calm the storm raging inside her.

She tapped a manicured nail against the polished mahogany desk, eyes scanning the latest reports on the Crestview project. The numbers were promising. If she played her cards right, Sinclair Enterprises would crush Knight Global.

A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“Come in,” she called, expecting her assistant.

Instead, Damien Knight strolled in as if he owned the place.

Evelyn stiffened. “I don’t recall inviting you.”

Damien smirked, closing the door behind him. “I don’t need an invitation.”

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “I should call security.”

“You won’t.” He took a seat across from her, entirely too comfortable in enemy territory. “We need to talk.”

She raised a brow. “About?”

His gaze darkened. “Crestview.”

Evelyn’s stomach tightened, but she masked it with a cool smirk. “Let me guess—you’ve realized you can’t win and you’re here to surrender?”

Damien chuckled, the sound rich and infuriatingly confident. “Oh, Evelyn. If I ever surrender, it won’t be in business.” His voice dropped just enough to make the air between them thick with something unspoken. “Or anywhere else.”

Heat prickled along her skin, but she kept her expression unreadable. “Get to the point.”

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on her desk. “We both know this bid will be brutal. No matter who wins, the other will bleed. I propose an alternative.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m listening.”

“A partnership.”

The word sent a jolt through her. Of all the things she expected, this wasn’t one of them.

She scoffed. “You expect me to believe you’d share control?”

“Not share,” he corrected. “Merge. Knight Global and Sinclair Enterprises—joint control of Crestview.”

She shook her head, standing. “Why the hell would I agree to that?”

He rose too, closing the distance between them. Too close.

“Because,” he murmured, “together, we’d be unstoppable.”

The words sent an undeniable thrill through her. It was a tempting offer—too tempting. But Evelyn knew better than to trust Damien Knight.

She tilted her chin up, refusing to be swayed. “I don’t need you to be unstoppable.”

Something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable, dangerous. “No, but you want me.”

The air between them became suffocating. The unspoken tension that had simmered for years threatened to ignite.

Evelyn exhaled slowly, refusing to let him see the effect he had on her. “If you think I’ll let desire cloud my judgment, you’ve underestimated me.”

Damien’s smirk softened into something more wicked. “I would never underestimate you, Evelyn.” His voice dipped, just above a whisper. “But tell me… if this is just business, why haven’t you stepped away yet?”

She hadn’t realized it, but he was right. She was standing so close that she could feel his warmth, smell the faint scent of his cologne.

This was dangerous.

Evelyn forced herself to step back, reclaiming her space. “Your offer is noted. But I don’t trust you, Damien.”

He studied her for a long moment before nodding. “Fair enough.” Then, with a smirk, he added, “But I like a challenge.”

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving Evelyn standing in the middle of her office, her pulse racing.

One thing was certain—this war between them had just taken a dangerous turn.

Evelyn spent the rest of the day replaying Damien’s offer in her mind. A partnership. It made sense—financially, strategically. But trusting Damien Knight? That was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

Still, his words lingered longer than they should have.

"But tell me… if this is just business, why haven’t you stepped away yet?"

Damn him.

By the time evening rolled around, she needed a distraction. A drink. Something strong.

That was how she found herself at The Monarch, an upscale bar known for its privacy and impeccable whiskey selection. She ordered a bourbon neat and settled into a dimly lit corner, the low hum of jazz filling the space.

She had just taken her first sip when a familiar voice interrupted her solitude.

“Drinking alone? That’s not like you.”

Evelyn closed her eyes briefly before turning.

Damien.

He stood there, tall and devastatingly composed in a navy suit that fit a little too well.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, swirling the amber liquid in her glass.

He slid into the seat across from her, completely unfazed. “Same as you. Unwinding after a long day.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You followed me.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a smirk. “Or maybe we just have the same impeccable taste in bars.”

Evelyn exhaled sharply. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Not when I want something.”

His gaze locked onto hers, dark and filled with something far more dangerous than business.

The bartender approached, and Damien ordered a scotch, neat.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Then, he leaned in slightly, voice low.

“Have you thought about my offer?”

She took a slow sip of her drink before answering. “I have. And my answer is no.”

Damien tilted his head, studying her. “Because you don’t trust me? Or because you don’t trust yourself?”

Her grip on the glass tightened.

“I know exactly what I want, Damien. And it’s not you.”

He smirked. “You sure about that?”

She should have walked away. Should have thrown her drink in his face and left. But she didn’t.

Instead, she met his challenge head-on. “You think you can rattle me?”

“I think,” he murmured, fingers brushing lightly over hers on the table, “that we’ve been dancing around this for too long.”

Heat coiled in her stomach at the contact, and she hated that he noticed.

“This is dangerous,” she warned, voice quieter now.

His thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against the back of her hand. “Then tell me to stop.”

Evelyn knew she should. Knew this was reckless, knew it would complicate everything. But she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she whispered, “You never do what you’re told.”

His lips curved into something almost victorious. “No, I don’t.”

Before she could second-guess it, before she could remind herself that he was the enemy, she did something even more reckless.

She leaned in.

And just like that, the last of their restraint snapped.

Damien’s lips crashed against hers, the kiss searing, desperate, inevitable. Years of tension, of battles, of unspoken desire, all igniting at once.

Her hands fisted in his suit as his pressed firmly to her waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.

This was a mistake. A beautiful, intoxicating mistake.

And neither of them wanted to stop.