Predator in a Suit | By GIANCARLO
Elena Moreau tightened her blazer as she stepped out of the backseat, heels clicking against slick pavement like thunder in an empty alley. London's skyline glimmered above her, cold, expensive, untouchable. It was the kind of night that promised champagne and influence for those who knew how to cultivate it, and ruin for those who didn't.
She wasn't naive. Her boss didn't send her out because she was charming or well-connected. He sent her because she was sharp, unsentimental, and damn good at disguising desperation beneath professionalism.
Her phone buzzed with another message from him. Close the deal. Don't come back without signatures.
Whatever she felt about his tactics, she'd survive. She'd survived worse.
The rooftop bar was all jagged lines of glass and steel, towering above the drab dormitories she'd grown up around. There were men in tailored suits with watches that cost more than her rent. The scent of expensive perfume lingered in the air like a perfume-soaked secret. She reminded herself. You earned your place here tonight. Don't forget that.
She didn't notice him at first, not until someone beside her spoke in a voice too smooth, too calm.
"You're Elena Moreau," he said, not with curiosity, but with certainty.
She turned slightly, pretending she didn't recognize him. "Do I know you?"
He smiled, not warm, but knowing. It was the kind of smile that seemed to appraise, calculate, test. "Not yet. But I know everyone worth knowing."
Elena didn't flinch; she studied him. Dark hair, tailored suit that seemed built rather than worn, and eyes sharp enough to dissect armor. He wasn't another corporate predator on a hunt. He was the apex. And she felt it in her bones before she even knew his name.
"I'm just here to finalize a meeting," she replied coolly. "I'm not looking for introductions."
His gaze lingered over her features like he was trying to memorize her reactions, decipher which masks she wore and which were real. "No need to hide," he said. "Your eyes already refuse to lie."
She resented how much that got under her skin. She shrugged, lifting her glass of champagne only to take a small sip, never enough to dull senses, just enough to claim she wasn't terrified by presence.
"What brings someone like you to a night like this?" she asked, careful with her words.
He watched her jaw move as she spoke, body poised but not rigid, mind scanning the room. "Business," he said simply.
A beat. Then another.
"You know your boss expects more than contracts tonight," he continued.
She met his eyes, cold. "I don't work that way."
That tension between them was like a taut string ready to snap.
"Yeah, well," she said, lifting an eyebrow, "I prefer results over fantasies."
He let out a slow exhale, amused, intrigued, not dismissive. "A rare quality."
Their conversation should have ended there. But it didn't.
He leaned in, just slightly, his voice lowering as though the air between them were private instead of public.
"Don't smile at me like that."
Her pulse spiked, not because she was weak, but because something in his tone was like a challenge and someone finally speaking her language.
"What makes you think I would?" she replied, tone steady but heart betraying nothing.
His eyes narrowed in a way that could be mistaken for irritation, but it was something else entirely. Curiosity. Recognition. A predatory focus that made her pulse quicken in a way she told herself was nothing, just adrenaline.
For a long moment, they just stood there, two opposites circling in a dance without music.
Then someone approached, her boss, grin too slick, hand extended, interrupting the moment like stepping on the throat of a quiet song.
"Elena, I want you to meet Adrian Vale," he said, as though she didn't already know.
Her breath hitched, not with fear, but with tension she couldn't place.
Adrian Vale. The name echoed in her mind like a warning.
She forced a smile, extended her hand.
"Nice to meet you," she said, voice steady.
His hand closed around hers, firm, confident, not gentle, not polite, but commanding.
A shiver ran down her spine she wasn't prepared for. And for the first time since she arrived, she felt unguarded, not weak, not vulnerable, but aware that something in her defenses was being tested.
In that grip, she realized one thing.
This was no ordinary encounter.
And he was exactly the kind of storm you didn't want to get caught in, but couldn't look away from either.