Chapter 3: Enter the Challenger

Rhea Sloane hated interruptions. And she especially hated being called into meetings she hadn’t scheduled.

So when her calendar dinged with a last-minute invite from the CEO’s office—subject line: “Consultant Integration Briefing”—she nearly dismissed it on principle.

But curiosity? That was more dangerous than her temper.

She arrived ten minutes early. Not because she was eager—Rhea was never eager—but because power meant controlling the room before anyone else entered it.

The conference space was sleek and sterile, lined with navy paneling and thin LED strips that hummed faintly. On the far end, glass windows looked out over the skyline, but Rhea barely spared them a glance.

She’d barely sat down when he walked in.

Damian Vale.

Again.

Still tall, still infuriatingly calm. Navy three-piece suit, cufflinks that gleamed, and a casual confidence that bordered on smug. Not loud, not showy—but deliberate. Like he didn’t need the room to notice him.

They just did.

He gave a small nod. “Ms. Sloane.”

“Mr. Vale,” she returned, dry. “Here to deliver another lecture on humility?”

He chuckled. “I thought I’d try a different approach today. Maybe charm.”

“How unfortunate for you,” she replied smoothly. “That doesn’t work on me.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said, taking the seat across from her. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t try.”

She studied him, expression unreadable. “Why are you really here?”

“I told you. Consultant.”

“Yes, but why now? Why me? If this is about the Helios error—”

“It’s not just Helios,” he interrupted gently. “The board has been concerned for a while. About internal processes. About staff turnover. About—” he gave her a meaningful look “—management style.”

Rhea leaned forward. “Let me be clear, Mr. Vale. My department is the top performer in this company. My team may complain, but they deliver. We hit every target, close every deal, and operate ten steps ahead of our competition.”

“I know,” he said, tone still maddeningly level. “That’s why they haven’t fired you.”

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Rhea laughed.

Short. Sharp. Dangerous.

“You’ve got guts,” she said, almost impressed. “I’ll give you that.”

“Comes with the job,” he said, unfazed. “Look, I’m not here to tear you down. I’m here to clean up the messes. That includes financial errors and… interpersonal chaos.”

“You think I’m chaos?”

“I think you’re brilliant,” he said without hesitation. “And volatile. A storm that either clears the air or burns down the house.”

She blinked, caught off guard—not by the insult, but by the compliment buried inside it.

“Do you always talk in metaphors?” she asked, recovering quickly.

He grinned. “Only when they’re accurate.”

Before she could respond, the door opened and three board members entered. Grey suits. Polished smiles. All of them clearly rehearsed in the art of not saying too much.

Introductions were exchanged. Plans laid out. Damian was officially assigned to audit operational flow, communication chains, and leadership impact—particularly in Rhea’s division.

Her division.

It was a polite way of saying: He’s here to watch you, Sloane.

When the meeting adjourned, she stood, collecting her tablet without sparing anyone a glance—except Damian, who lingered beside her.

“You don’t like people in your space,” he said quietly, once they were out of earshot.

“I don’t like people wasting my time.”

“Well then,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets, “I guess we’ll have to make this worth your while.”

Rhea’s heels clicked down the corridor. Damian kept pace beside her, irritatingly relaxed.

“You know,” she said, not looking at him, “people who get too comfortable too fast usually have something to prove.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe I’m just not intimidated by titles and curated reputations.”

That earned him a sidelong glance.

“What have you heard about me, Vale?”

“Enough to know people are scared of you. Enough to know they respect you. And enough to wonder how long before you finally snap.”

She smirked. “I don’t snap. I strike.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

They reached the elevator. She stepped in. He didn’t.

Before the doors closed, he added, “I’ll be sitting in on your team’s 9 a.m. huddle tomorrow.”

“Uninvited,” she noted.

“Integrated,” he corrected with a wink.

As the elevator doors shut, Rhea felt the first spark of something dangerous flicker in her chest. Not attraction. No. She wasn’t that easy.

It was something else.

Curiosity.

That night, she stayed in the office later than usual, combing through her department’s files. Not because she was worried about the audit—but because she wanted to be ready. She wanted to understand exactly where her vulnerabilities were before he did.

Damian Vale might’ve been charming, but he wasn’t harmless.

And Rhea didn’t survive this long by underestimating anyone—especially not men who walked into her kingdom with a smile and a pen, thinking they could rewrite the rules.

If he wanted a challenge, he just found one.

Let the games begin.

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