"Front page of every business paper," Jake muttered, tossing a stack of magazines onto Samantha's desk. "Apparently, 'The Red Queen Meets Her Match' is the headline of the week."
Samantha didn't look up. She was already scrolling through the online articles on her tablet, expression unreadable. Each image captured her and Marcus Reed at the gala — laughing lightly, standing too close, eyes locked in that electric tension that made journalists go feral.
"They do love a fantasy," she murmured, voice calm. "Two billionaires, one ballroom, a war disguised as waltz."
Jake leaned against her desk, arms crossed. "They're calling you the power couple who could change the global market. You know that's not helping, right?"
Her lips curved slightly. "Good. Pressure makes cracks show."
Jake gave her a pointed look. "You're enjoying this."
She finally met his gaze, eyes sharp and glimmering with that familiar fire. "I'm controlling the narrative. For once, the Carters aren't dictating how I'm seen."
He sighed, trying to mask the edge in his voice. "Just make sure you don't let Marcus control it either."
"Marcus?" she repeated lightly, leaning back in her chair. "He's playing his game. I'm playing mine."
Jake didn't answer, but she caught the flicker in his eyes — a warning, or maybe jealousy he couldn't hide.
---
Across town, at the Carter mansion, the morning wasn't as composed.
Nick sat in the living room, coffee untouched, the newspaper open on the table. The headline screamed back at him:
"Samantha Bradley and Marcus Reed — The New Power Alliance?"
The photo beneath it was a dagger — Samantha laughing, Marcus looking at her like he wanted to own the world just to hand it to her.
Kate appeared at the doorway, her robe tied carelessly around her waist. "You've been staring at that picture for half an hour."
He didn't look up. "It's just business."
"Business?" Her tone was sharp, mocking. "That's what you call the way you look at her?"
"Kate—"
"No, let's talk about it," she snapped, stepping closer, anger flashing beneath her polished exterior. "You still look at her like she's your goddamn wife! But I am Nick!"
The room went still.
Nick's jaw tightened, and for a long moment, he said nothing. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, strained. "You wouldn't understand."
Kate's laugh was brittle. "You're right. I wouldn't understand. Clearly knowing my husband looking at another woman like the way he uses to look at me. And you are saying I won't fucking understand."
He looked at her then — really looked at her — and something in his expression made her take a step back. Guilt. Regret. And something darker.
"Don't push me, Kate," he said quietly. "Not today."
She turned sharply and stormed out, slamming the door.
Nick leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face, but all he could see was Samantha's face — her eyes, cold and distant, yet still the same woman planning to take everything he owned in his fucking life.
---
At Elevate's headquarters, Samantha's day was already in motion.
Her assistant, Lynn, entered with a report and a cautious expression. "The Carter Group has officially applied for an extension on the funding line. They're requesting Elevate to guarantee the transaction."
Samantha's pen stilled mid-signature. She looked up slowly. "Perfect."
Jake frowned. "Sam, are you sure you want to make them that dependent on us? It's risky. If the market turns—"
She cut him off smoothly. "If the market turns, I'll be the one turning it."
Jake sighed. "You're playing with fire."
"I am fire," she said quietly, returning to her documents. "They just forgot it burns."
---
That evening, Marcus Reed arrived at the private restaurant she had chosen — exclusive, quiet, the kind of place where deals were made with wine and words instead of signatures.
He walked in with his usual unhurried confidence, dressed in black, his cufflinks glinting under the low lights. Samantha was already seated at a secluded table by the window, the city lights painting her in silver and shadow.
"Miss Bradley," he greeted smoothly. "You have a knack for choosing the most strategic view in every room."
She smiled faintly. "I like to see what I'm conquering."
He sat opposite her, eyes studying her face — the calm perfection of her expression, the quiet strength beneath it. "You've built an empire on vengeance, haven't you?" he said after a pause.
Samantha didn't flinch. "And you, on opportunity."
His lips curved. "Touché."
Their wine glasses clinked softly, an unspoken acknowledgment of mutual recognition.
"What do you want from Carter Group?" he asked, leaning back.
"Control," she said simply. "Not on paper. In perception."
"And what do you want from me?"
She met his gaze evenly. "I haven't decided if you're an obstacle or an asset."
He laughed under his breath, admiring her audacity. "You know, most people find that kind of answer terrifying."
"I'm not most people."
He leaned forward slightly, voice lower. "No, you're not. And that's exactly what makes you dangerous."
Their eyes locked — no seduction, no pretense, just the undeniable tension between two predators who had finally recognized each other.
"Then you should be careful," she said softly, "because danger has a habit of leaving scars."
He smiled. "I don't mind scars. They prove you've survived something worth remembering."
The air between them thickened — part negotiation, part challenge, part something neither was willing to name.
When Samantha finally stood to leave, Marcus remained seated, watching her go.
He didn't stop her — he only whispered to himself, "You'll come back. Not for business. For the game."
---
Later that night, Jake found her in the penthouse, standing by the window again — the same way she did when she was thinking too hard.
"How did your meeting with Marcus go?" he asked casually, but the undertone wasn't lost on her.
"Productive," she replied simply.
Jake's jaw tightened. "Productive how?"
She turned to face him, eyebrow slightly raised. "You sound like someone keeping score."
"Maybe I am," he admitted. "You said he was just a player. But it sounds like you're starting to enjoy the game."
Samantha's gaze softened for a fraction of a second. "Don't mistake strategy for indulgence, Jake. You of all people should know the difference."
"I do," he said quietly, stepping closer. "But I also know you, Sam. You hide behind control when something scares you. And I think Marcus Reed scares you."
Her smile faltered just slightly — too quick for most to see. "You're wrong," she said finally. "Nothing scares me anymore."
Jake studied her, silent. Then he murmured, "That's the saddest thing I've ever heard you say."
She didn't reply. The silence between them was charged — with tension, worry, and something unspoken.
Finally, she turned away, her reflection meeting his in the glass. "Get some rest, Jake," she said softly. "Tomorrow we keep tightening the strings."
Jake stood there for a moment, watching her — the woman he loved, the woman who didn't know how to stop fighting ghosts.
And outside, the city lights blinked like stars — brilliant, distant, and untouchable.