CHAPTER TWO
ADRIAN'S POV
The music from the club still pulsed in my head long after I left the dance floor. Heavy bass. Flashing lights. Bodies moving like sin.
She was on me before I even said a word, long legs, red lips, hair that smelled like coconut and trouble. Exactly my type. Exactly what Madam Caro always sent when she wanted to please me.
"No kisses," I murmured against her ear, my voice low.
She laughed breathlessly, thinking it was part of the game. Her nails scratched down my back as she whispered, "Whatever you say, Dre."
I wasn't here for love. I never was. This wasn't about connection or meaning, it was about control. About shutting off the noise in my head for a while.
I grabbed her hips, losing myself in the rhythm, in the heat, in the sound of her pleading.
"Faster, Dre… please," she moaned.
Her voice blurred into the background, drowned by the pounding in my chest. My phone buzzed somewhere on the nightstand. I ignored it. Nothing else mattered right now. Not work, not family, not even the empire waiting for me outside these walls.
Then the door slammed open.
"Are you fucking serious?" I barked, turning sharply.
Gabriel stood there, cool as always, arms folded like he'd walked in on me sipping coffee instead of well, this.
The girl screamed, clutching the sheets. I cursed, yanking a towel around my waist. "You ever heard of knocking, Gabriel?"
He didn't even flinch. "Sorry, sweetheart," he said to the girl, flashing that irritating smirk of his. Then his eyes shifted to me. "You might want to zip that up, boss. You just lost Wunnick Motors."
I froze.
My heartbeat spiked, a slow burn of disbelief clawing its way through me. "What are you talking about? That deal was done."
"Was," he corrected, tossing my shirt at me. "Until ten minutes ago. Dahlia Lincoln just walked in and sealed it."
Her name hit me like a slap.
Dahlia.
I clenched my jaw, feeling the heat rise in my chest. "She's testing me."
Gabriel laughed under his breath. "Your witch is good, man. Admit it. She's got you dancing."
"Careful, Gabriel." My voice came out colder than I intended.
The girl tried to touch my arm, mumbling something about finishing what we started. I brushed her hand away. My night was ruined the moment Dahlia's name entered the room.
"Next time," I muttered, though we both knew there wouldn't be.
I grabbed my keys and stormed out, Gabriel following. The night air was sharp, slicing through the haze of alcohol and lust. I could still hear the girl's voice behind me, faint and pointless.
But all I could think about was her.
Dahlia Lincoln.
*****
"She's pushing me," I muttered for what felt like the tenth time as we drove through the city. My hand tightened around the steering wheel until my knuckles went pale.
Gabriel leaned back in the passenger seat, his tone dripping with amusement. "You should give her credit. She's good. If this keeps up, Lincoln Cars might actually snatch that 'Best Company' award this year."
I shot him a look sharp enough to cut. "Not funny."
He just laughed. "I'm serious, cousin. She's outsmarting you. Maybe you like it."
I didn't answer. Maybe because he wasn't wrong. Dahlia had been coming at me harder lately…..stealing deals, outmaneuvering me, knocking me off balance in ways that had nothing to do with business.
I hated her. I fucking hated her. But somewhere deep inside that hate was something worse. Something I didn't want to name.
She got under my skin without even trying.
The city lights blurred past us as I drove faster, trying to outpace the thoughts in my head. That's when I saw it, an expensive car pulled over by the roadside, hood open, hazard lights flashing.
"Keep driving," Gabriel said lazily, not even glancing up.
Then I saw the logo. Lincoln Cars.
A grin tugged at my lips. "Well, look at that."
"Don't tell me you're stopping," he groaned. "What are you gonna do, offer her a ride?"
"Just want to make sure the lady's okay," I said with mock innocence, pulling over.
The moment the door opened and she stepped out, I knew. I'd know her anywhere. The way her heels clicked, the way she tossed her hair like the world revolved around her. Dahlia Lincoln.
Our eyes met, and for a heartbeat, everything stilled.
Then she frowned. "Of course it's you," she muttered under her breath.
"Need help?" I asked, pretending not to notice the irritation in her voice.
"No, I don't." She bent over the engine, ignoring me completely. "And even if I did, I'd rather ask a stray dog."
Her tone was sharp enough to draw blood.
I couldn't help but smirk. "You sure? It looks like your car's begging for me."
"Don't flatter yourself, Smith." She looked up, glaring.
"If you were the last man alive, I'd rather walk home barefoot."
That one stung, but I wasn't about to let her see it.
She hissed suddenly, jerking her hand back. "Damn it, that's hot."
I stepped forward before I could stop myself. "Let me see"
"I don't need your help," she snapped, cradling her finger.
I exhaled slowly, fighting the strange urge to smile. "Relax, Dahlia. I'll take a look. Not because I want to help you, but because if anyone's going to kill you, it'll be me. You still owe me a fair fight."
She rolled her eyes but stepped aside, muttering something I couldn't catch.
I bent under the hood, checking the engine. I already knew the issue, it was something small, something she probably missed while pretending she understood machines. I almost laughed. Dahlia Lincoln could negotiate multimillion-dollar deals, but she couldn't tell a carburetor from a battery.
"Try it now," I said, stepping back.
She slid into the driver's seat, turned the key, and the engine purred to life. Her expression flickered, satisfaction, then annoyance.
"Don't think I'll thank you for this," she said flatly.
"You're welcome," I replied, smirking.
Gabriel chuckled behind me. "You two are unbelievable. I can't tell if you're fighting or flirting."
We turned to leave, and for a second, I actually felt lighter. Until I heard the screech of tires.
Her car lurched backward…fast.
Metal scraped against metal.
The sound tore through the air, sharp and brutal.
I froze. My jaw dropped as I stared at the long, ugly dent she'd just carved into the side of my car. My favorite car.
"Are you insane?" I shouted, fists clenching. "You scratched my car, Dahlia!"
She leaned out the window, laughing—soft, wild, infuriatingly beautiful. "Be careful, Adrian. My poison might be your death."
Then she sped off, her laughter echoing in the night, fading into the distance but burning in my head like gasoline.
I stood there, chest heaving, trying to calm the storm building inside me.
"She's insane," Gabriel muttered, inspecting the damage.
"She sure is," I said quietly, eyes still fixed on the road she disappeared down.
But the truth sat heavy in my chest. Beneath the anger, beneath the hatred, there was something else. Something I'd never admit out loud.
Because if I was honest, Dahlia Lincoln wasn't just my enemy. She was the only woman who made me feel alive.
And this thing between us?
It wasn't ending anytime soon.
It was war.
A dangerous, delicious war I wasn't sure I wanted to win.