Livia didn't sleep that night. The gala had ended hours ago, but the memory of Valen's smirk, his dangerous calm, and the warning in his eyes refused to leave her. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw him in the shadows, studying her like she was a puzzle he intended to solve.
The next morning, she arrived at the office early, determined to bury herself in contracts and strategy. But fate, or Valen, had other plans.
Her phone buzzed with a message she didn't recognize.
"You were reckless last night. I need to see you. Now." —V.L.
Her stomach tightened. She knew it was him. She knew she shouldn't go. But curiosity, that dangerous spark of defiance, burned too brightly to ignore.
By the time she arrived at the deserted conference room, he was already there. Leaning against the polished table, arms crossed, he looked impossibly calm. The kind of calm that made her pulse quicken and her mind scream warning.
"You came," he said, voice low.
"I could ask the same," she replied, keeping her tone steady.
He stepped closer, reducing the space between them until she could feel the heat radiating from him. "Last night… you saw something you shouldn't have. That could've ended badly for you."
"And yet, here I am," she said, refusing to flinch.
He studied her for a long moment, eyes dark, unreadable. Then he smiled, slow and dangerous. "Bold. Reckless. Annoying… and intriguing."
Her breath caught.
"Good," he murmured, leaning just close enough for his words to brush her ear. "Because I don't like losing games… and I never lose interest."
The air between them was electric, deadly, and impossible to ignore. For the first time, Livia realized: surviving Valen Lark wasn't going to be enough. She might also fall.