The boardroom was designed to intimidate.It sat on the sixty-fourth floor of the Frost Industries tower, a hollowed cathedral of glass and steel, the walls floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. The city beyond glowed faintly under a haze of gold light, the day's heat slowly melting into evening, though up here the temperature never wavered—kept deliberately cold, to match the woman who ruled it.
Selene liked it that way.Cold was control. Cold slowed the pulse, sharpened the mind.
The only warmth came from the long mahogany table, polished to a mirror sheen. She sat at its head, spine straight, chin lifted just enough to signal dominance without arrogance. The light above caught the faint frost of her diamond earrings, the only decoration she allowed herself in business meetings.
The seat to her right was occupied by Camille, precise as a blade. Across from them sat Marcus, broad-shouldered, tie already loosened by half an inch—enough to project a veneer of ease, but Selene could see the tightness in his jaw, the way he drummed two fingers against the armrest in controlled irritation.
Julian's chair remained empty.
Selene knew exactly what he was doing.
He was never late by accident. If Julian Blackthorne walked into a room after her, it was because he wanted every eye to shift to him the second he crossed the threshold. Timing was his weapon; charm was the sheath.
"Shall we start?" Marcus said, breaking the silence."No," Selene replied evenly. "We will wait."
Camille's gaze flicked toward her—just enough for Selene to catch the faint arch of a brow. Camille didn't question her in front of others, but she knew Camille didn't like leaving Marcus with even a sliver of advantage.
The door finally whispered open.
Julian strolled in like a man arriving fashionably late to his own gala. His charcoal suit was immaculately cut, his tie a shade darker than midnight. The man had an uncanny knack for wearing elegance like second skin.
"Apologies," he said, voice low and smooth, as he dropped his phone on the table with deliberate casualness. "Traffic was a nightmare."
Selene didn't look away from him. "We're already behind schedule."
Julian smiled faintly as he settled into the chair beside Marcus. "Then let's not waste any more time."
The meeting began with Camille's brisk recap of the agenda. In theory, it was straightforward—finalizing the public rollout strategy for the merger. In practice, it was a battlefield in disguise. Every proposal was a move. Every compromise was a calculated sacrifice.
Marcus spoke first, leaning forward, elbows on the table. His voice carried the weight of confidence, but Selene caught the faint glint of something more—territorial aggression. His proposal wasn't just about PR positioning; it was about controlling the narrative entirely, ensuring his faction emerged as the dominant voice in the press.
Camille's counter was surgical. She didn't raise her voice or betray even a flicker of annoyance. Instead, she asked pointed questions, each one dismantling Marcus's assumptions without outright confrontation. It was elegance in verbal warfare, but Selene noted how Marcus didn't flinch—he'd expected her resistance.
Julian, of course, stayed silent.Not because he was disengaged, but because he was watching. Always watching. Selene could feel his gaze skimming over her every time she spoke, not quite challenging, but never submissive either.
When he finally did speak, the air shifted."I think," Julian said, his tone almost lazy, "we're all pretending this is about public perception when it's really about who gets to hold the reins once the dust settles."
The words fell like a lit match into dry kindling.
Marcus tilted his head, eyes narrowing just enough to signal interest. Camille's lips curved in something that could be mistaken for a smile—except Selene knew better. That was her warning smile, the one that meant careful, this can get bloody.
"And who do you think that will be?" Selene asked, her voice deceptively calm.
Julian's gaze locked on hers. "Depends on who's willing to play dirtier."
The silence that followed was brittle enough to snap.
The discussion grew sharper after that. Each point came wrapped in layers of implication, each concession traded like precious metal. Selene maneuvered through it like a fencer in a duel—measured, precise, never wasting motion. Marcus pushed hard but not recklessly. Camille cut in when needed, anchoring Selene's position without overshadowing her.
Julian played the long game. He spoke sparingly, but each time he did, he nudged the conversation just enough to redirect the current. He never directly opposed Selene—but neither did he fully align with her. That middle ground was where he thrived.
By the time the meeting ended, the skyline outside was a sea of lights. Agreements had been reached, but none were clean victories. Everyone had given something away. Everyone had left with something in their pocket.
Marcus lingered after the others began to file out. His voice was low, his stance deceptively casual as he approached Selene."You're letting Julian get too close."
Selene didn't turn from the window. The city below pulsed with life, each light a reminder of the empire she held in her grip. "You're assuming he's a threat."
Marcus gave a humorless laugh. "Julian is always a threat. You know that better than anyone."
She allowed herself the faintest ghost of a smile. "So am I."
Marcus studied her for a long moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then he left, his reflection swallowed by the glass as the doors closed behind him.
The rooftop garden was her sanctuary.From here, the city looked almost peaceful—a lie she chose to indulge when the weight of the day pressed too hard. The hum of traffic far below was like a distant tide, and the night air was crisp, cool enough to clear her thoughts.
She wasn't surprised when she heard footsteps behind her.
"You handled Marcus well," Julian's voice said, softer now, almost amused. "Didn't think you'd let him press that hard."
Selene turned slowly, her mask firmly in place. "And yet you said nothing."
"I wanted to see how far you'd let him push before you pushed back."
"And?"
Julian stepped closer, the glow of the rooftop lights catching in his eyes. "You didn't disappoint."
For a moment, the silence between them wasn't empty—it thrummed with something unspoken, something neither of them was willing to name.
Selene broke it first. "This game you're playing—be careful, Julian. You might find you're not the only one who knows how to win."
His smile was sharp, almost wicked. "That's the point, Selene. Winning's no fun without someone who can actually keep up."
Meanwhile, across the city, Camille stood in Marcus's private study, the room lit only by the low amber glow of a desk lamp.
"He trusts her too much," Marcus said, pouring himself a drink.
Camille didn't look up from the file she was scanning. "Selene doesn't trust anyone."
"She trusts Julian more than she should."
Camille closed the file with deliberate care. "Then maybe the solution isn't to pull them apart. Maybe it's to push them together—until one of them breaks."
Marcus's gaze sharpened. "That's dangerous."
Camille's lips curved faintly. "So is leaving them to play without supervision."
Back at Frost Tower, Selene remained on the rooftop long after Julian left. She traced the lines of the city with her eyes, mapping possibilities, weighing risks. Somewhere below, her enemies were already adjusting their strategies.
She could feel the fire beneath the ice now.And she knew it was only a matter of time before it broke through.