The restaurant was the kind of place where power wasn't just displayed—it was worshipped. Crystal chandeliers, hushed conversations, a table where billion-dollar deals were born and buried.
Elena smoothed her dress as she followed Alexander to their reserved booth. She told herself she was here only as his assistant, to take notes, to manage details. Nothing more.
Until she saw her.
Sophia Bennett was already seated, her smile poised, her beauty sharp enough to wound. She stood gracefully as Alexander approached, kissing him lightly on the cheek as though no years had passed, as though she still belonged there.
"Alexander," she purred. "You're late."
His jaw tightened, but his reply was smooth. "Traffic."
Sophia's gaze slid to Elena, assessing, dissecting. "And this must be… the assistant. How quaint."
The word sliced. Elena forced a polite smile. "Elena Carter. It's a pleasure."
Sophia's eyes gleamed, like a cat toying with prey. "Charming. Tell me, Alexander, since when do you bring your staff to high-level meetings? Unless…" Her smirk deepened. "Unless she's more than staff."
The air tightened. Alexander's face was unreadable, but his hand curled subtly into a fist under the table.
Before he could reply, Elena spoke, her voice calm, steady. "I'm here because I know the numbers better than anyone. If the deal is as important as you say, Miss Bennett, you'll want accuracy, not assumptions."
Sophia blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. Then she laughed lightly, but her gaze sharpened. "Feisty. I see why you keep her, Alexander."
Dinner unfolded like a chess match. Sophia spoke in half-truths, her words laced with double meanings. She brought up London, dangling information like bait. And through it all, Elena matched her—polite, professional, but never backing down.
Alexander watched silently, his mask in place, but Elena felt the weight of his gaze every time she spoke.
When the dinner finally ended, Sophia's parting words lingered: "Careful who you trust, darling. Loyalty is so… fragile."
Outside, the night air was sharp with rain. Elena hugged her coat tighter, adrenaline still humming.
"You didn't have to defend me," Alexander said quietly as the driver pulled up.
"Yes, I did." She met his gaze, unflinching. "She wanted to make me small. I won't let her."
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes—pride? Desire? Both?
Then, before she could breathe, his hand lifted, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. The touch lingered, his fingers ghosting against her skin.
"Elena…" His voice was low, raw, dangerous.
Her pulse thundered. The storm wasn't outside—it was in him. In them.
And it was only growing stronger.