The elevator glided upward like a coffin for the ambitious.
Nathan adjusted his collar, making sure the charcoal blazer didn't wrinkle where his confidence threatened to. It wasn't his blazer. It wasn't even his shirt. Some friend-of-a-friend loaned it to him after he promised "networking" might be involved. Technically not a lie.
The elevator dinged softly, and the doors parted with the grace of old money.
The penthouse suite was bathed in velvet evening light, glass walls offering a panorama of the city Nathan once ruled—now just a skyline full of reminders.
Inside, low jazz hummed from hidden speakers. A few dozen people milled about, sipping red wine like it was blood and gossiping with the precision of assassins. It was a luxury wine-tasting, yes—but it reeked of something else.
Power.
And Evelyn Moreau was its nucleus.
She stood near the back, flanked by two execs and a sommelier, her gown matte black and slit high. The kind of dress designed to remind men they were powerless. Her gaze locked onto Nathan the second he stepped in.
Not a smile. Not a nod. Just that calculating glint.
[SYSTEM ALERT: Proximity to Target – Evelyn Moreau]
[Environmental Modifier: Social Pressure + Business Competition]
[Challenge: Outshine rival suitors to increase Target Affection Level]
Nathan scanned the room.
The competition was real.
To her left: a hedge fund prodigy with a jawline like a runway model and rumors of a secret Monaco villa.
To her right: some oil-backed prince, arrogant and already too drunk to hide it.
And now… him.
Bankrupt. Borrowed suit. Breath mints doing overtime.
Time to play the game.
He made his way to the wine bar. Grabbed a glass. Didn't drink.
He made a loop around the room, subtly slipping into conversations. Quick jokes. Crisp nods. Remembered names. Echoed keywords like "liquidity" and "ROI" while scanning for his opening.
Then, finally—
"Mr. Cole," Evelyn said, voice like cold steel wrapped in silk.
Her little circle turned. Everyone looked at him, amused or dismissive.
Nathan smiled.
"Ms. Moreau. You invited me to wine. I assumed you meant war."
The hedge fund guy scoffed. "You came dressed for a funeral."
Nathan didn't flinch. "I did. Yours."
A few snickers from the bystanders. The prince gave him a slow once-over.
"Evelyn, this who you've been teasing us about?" the prince said. "The fallen founder turned consulting cowboy?"
Evelyn sipped her wine. "He makes better numbers than most of you do with full teams."
That earned silence.
Then Nathan stepped forward, glass raised.
"I propose a toast," he said, voice level. "To power. The one thing more intoxicating than all the wine in this overpriced penthouse."
The glasses clinked half-heartedly.
Then, Evelyn tilted her head. "If you're here to pitch again, Nathan—"
"No pitch." He sipped. "I'm here to make it hard for you to forget me."
[SYSTEM PROMPT: Target's Curiosity +5%]
[Optional Mini-Quest Triggered: Impress Evelyn Before Midnight for Bonus Affection Boost]
She stared at him, unreadable.
"I don't forget useful things," she said. "Or dangerous ones."
He leaned in, just a step. "Then let me be both."
The hedge fund guy cut in, bitter. "This is adorable, but some of us came to drink, not watch an audition."
Nathan glanced at him. "Funny. You look like you came to lose."
Laughter again. A sharp, cutting kind.
Evelyn didn't stop it.
She liked it.
She liked him.
But the room didn't.
And power-hungry men didn't take humiliation well.
Which is exactly when it happened—
The drunk prince stepped in too close. "You think this is some kind of fucking joke, consultant?"
Nathan's smile dropped.
"No," he said. "But if it were, your face would be the punchline."
Before anyone could step in—
The prince shoved him.
Nathan stumbled back into a wine cart. Glass shattered. Red liquid pooled.
The room gasped. A waiter cursed.
Nathan stood up slowly. Stared at the prince.
He could hit back. He could make this ugly.
But that would be checkers.
He needed to play chess.
So he exhaled, fixed his collar, and calmly turned to Evelyn.
"I think I've overstayed my welcome," he said. "But I hope the numbers in that proposal speak louder than tonight's nonsense."
He started walking.
"Wait."
Her voice cut through the tension like a scalpel.
Everyone turned.
"Nathan," she said, ice melting just a fraction. "Walk with me."
He didn't hesitate.
They stepped onto the terrace, leaving tension and testosterone behind.
Evelyn didn't speak at first. Just leaned on the railing, staring at the skyline.
Then: "You could've fought him."
"I'd rather win than brawl."
"And you think you've won?"
He turned to her. "You didn't stop the push. But you stopped me from leaving."
That earned the tiniest smile.
[Target Affection +10%]
[System Reward: Negotiation Skill Lv. 1 Unlocked]
[Bonus Trigger: Strategic Charm – +100 Tycoon Points]
"Next time," she murmured, "bring your own suit."
He grinned. "Next time, I'll bring a pen for that contract."
"Maybe I'll let you."
Then, quietly—
"Dinner. Thursday. Not business."
Nathan blinked. "That a test?"
"That's an order."
She walked back in.
Nathan stayed on the terrace, heart pounding.
The game wasn't just on.
He was winning.