The nights in Blackwell Manor were colder than I expected. Not because of the drafty halls or the polished marble floors, but because of the silent battles fought behind closed doors.
After Dominic left me alone with my glass, I realized this wasn't just a contract or a business deal — it was a dangerous game of power and passion, and neither of us was willing to lose.
The next morning, the first real test of our uneasy truce came when I found myself standing face to face with Dominic in the kitchen — a room that somehow felt less intimidating than the rest of the mansion, but no less charged with tension.
He was leaning casually against the granite countertop, sipping his black coffee with that infuriating smirk.
"Didn't expect to see you here," he said, voice teasing.
I folded my arms, refusing to let him see how much I wanted to say something sharp and witty. "What, you think I'd be hiding in my room all day?"
Dominic's eyes darkened, heat flickering in them like a warning. "I'm just surprised you can survive without your precious bookstore."
I stepped closer, heart hammering. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."
He tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he was desperate to solve. "Is that so? Prove it."
The challenge in his tone sent a thrill through me, one I tried desperately to push down. This was war — but the enemy was getting dangerously close.
His smirk widened, but there was something unreadable in his eyes—an edge that didn't quite belong to the arrogant billionaire everyone feared. I fought the sudden urge to lean in, to challenge him more than just with words.
"So," I said, voice steady but laced with challenge, "what's your next move, Blackwell? Planning to crush me completely or just toy with me until I break?"
Dominic pushed off the counter, closing the distance between us with a deliberate calm. The scent of his cologne—woodsy and a bit spicy—wrapped around me, and suddenly the kitchen felt smaller, hotter.
"Maybe a little of both," he whispered, so close I could see the sharp lines of his jaw, the flicker of heat behind those dark eyes. "But I don't break easily. And I don't expect you to either."
My pulse thundered in my ears. I wanted to retreat, but instead, I held his gaze. "Good. Because I'm not here to lose."
He smiled, slow and dangerous, then stepped back, breaking the tension like a silent command.
"Consider this your first test, Ms. Harper. Show me what you're really made of."
As he walked away, the cool confidence radiating off him made my skin tingle. The war had begun—and I was already dangerously drawn into the fire.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the floor-to-ceiling windows as I paced the vast living room, trying to shake the lingering heat of our kitchen confrontation. Blackwell Manor was a fortress of cold elegance, but right now, it felt like a cage.
My mind replayed every word Dominic had said, every glance exchanged—each loaded with unspoken challenges. I had no intention of backing down, but the magnetic pull between us was as undeniable as it was infuriating.
A sharp knock at the door broke my thoughts.
I opened it to find Dominic, dressed casually but still exuding that effortless power, holding a single leather-bound book.
"Thought you might appreciate a distraction," he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.
I raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you care about my hobbies?"
He shrugged, a playful glint in his dark eyes. "Maybe I want to understand what makes you tick. Or maybe I just enjoy watching you stubbornly resist me."
I snatched the book from his hands—a collection of classic poetry.
"Read me a line," I challenged.
Dominic's lips curled into a smirk as he flipped it open.
"How about this one?" He read aloud, his voice deep and steady:
"Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove."
I felt a flush creep up my neck. The words—his voice—stirred something unexpected.
"Shakespeare?" I whispered.
He nodded, stepping closer until the air between us was electric.
"Ever feel like you're caught in a game where the rules keep changing? That maybe… the enemy isn't who you thought?"
My heart hammered. "What are you saying?"
He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"That maybe, just maybe, we're both playing for the same side."
The boldness of his touch sent a jolt through me. I pulled back, breath shallow, mind spinning.
"We're enemies, Dominic," I said, voice fierce despite the racing pulse in my veins.
He smiled, dark and knowing. "Enemies with a dangerous edge."
And just like that, the game had shifted. The stakes were higher, and so was the heat.