Vanessa's POV
My hand shot to the door handle.
Don't, Jake Morrison said without looking at me. We're doing sixty miles per hour. You'll kill yourself.
Better than being in a car with you. I yanked on the handle anyway. Locked.
Childish. Jake's voice was infuriatingly calm as he navigated through traffic. I'm trying to help you.
Help me? You destroyed my fifty-million-dollar deal three years ago! My voice cracked. You stood in front of investors and told them I was committing fraud. You cost me everything!
I was wrong.
Two words. Delivered like he was commenting on the weather.
You were wrong? I laughed, high and desperate. That's it? That's your apology?
Jake's jaw tightened, and I noticed for the first time how sharp it was. Strong. The kind of jawline that belonged in magazines. I hated that I noticed.
I'm not apologizing yet. I'm explaining. There's a difference.
Let me out. Now.
Those reporters will eat you alive. They're probably still waiting outside your building. Your friend Maya too—they'll hound her for information about where you went.
He was right. I hated that he was right.
I pressed back against the leather seat, my heart racing. The car smelled expensive—leather and something else. His cologne, probably. Clean and masculine and completely distracting.
Stop it, I told myself. This is Jake Morrison. The enemy.
Where are you taking me?
Somewhere we can talk without cameras. Jake took a sharp turn down a side street. His hands on the steering wheel were strong, confident. Everything about him screamed power and control.
I looked away quickly. What do you know about David?
More than you, apparently. Jake's knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Since you didn't know he was destroying you until yesterday.
How do you— I stopped. You've been watching me.
I've been watching David. You just happened to be his latest target.
The car pulled into an underground parking garage. Private. Exclusive. The kind of place that cost more per month than most people's rent.
Jake parked and finally turned to look at me.
I'd forgotten how intense his eyes were. Dark, almost black, and focused completely on me like I was the only person in the world. Three years ago, before he'd destroyed my deal, I'd noticed those eyes. Noticed how they made my stomach flip.
I'd thought it was attraction then. Now I knew it was just my instincts warning me he was dangerous.
I have a private café on the top floor, he said. No paparazzi. No reporters. Just us.
Something about the way he said just us made my pulse quicken. I ignored it.
Why should I trust you?
You shouldn't. He got out of the car. But you're going to anyway. Because I'm the only person who knows what David Chen is really capable of.
I followed him into an elevator. The space was small, and suddenly Jake was too close. I could feel the heat radiating off him, smell that cologne again. Cedarwood and something darker.
He pressed the button for the top floor and the elevator lurched upward. Neither of us spoke, but the silence felt heavy. Charged.
I studied his profile—the strong nose, the full lips pressed into a hard line, the way his suit fit perfectly across his broad shoulders. He was taller than I remembered. More imposing.
Jake's eyes slid to mine, catching me looking. One eyebrow lifted slightly.
I looked away quickly, heat flooding my face. Damn it.
The café was small and empty. Windows overlooked the city, but the glass was tinted—people outside couldn't see in. A barista nodded at Jake and disappeared into the back room.
Complete privacy.
Jake pulled out a chair at a corner table. Sit.
I'm not a dog.
Sit anyway. Please. He added the last word like it physically hurt him.
I sat, if only because my legs felt shaky. Jake took the seat across from me, and for a long moment, we just stared at each other.
His eyes really were unfairly beautiful. Dark and intense and framed by thick lashes that most women would kill for. And there was something else in them now—something that looked almost like regret.
Talk, I demanded, breaking the spell. Why did you help me? What do you want?
David Chen worked for me four years ago, Jake said, leaning back in his chair. The movement made his shirt pull tight across his chest. I forced myself to focus on his words, not his body. Head of acquisitions for Morrison Properties. Brilliant at finding deals. Even better at closing them.
I don't care about your hiring history.
You should. Jake's eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. Because two years into his employment, I discovered he was embezzling. Millions. He'd set up shell companies, funneled money through fake contracts, covered his tracks perfectly.
My stomach dropped. You're saying David's a thief.
I'm saying David's a genius at making people look guilty while he walks away clean. Jake leaned forward, and suddenly the space between us felt very small. When I confronted him, he had evidence ready. Documents showing I was the one embezzling. My signature on everything. He'd framed me perfectly.
I could smell his cologne again. It was distracting. He was distracting.
What happened?
I spent six months proving my innocence. Cost me twenty million in legal fees and lost deals. Nearly destroyed Morrison Properties. His voice went rough with emotion. By the time I cleared my name, David had disappeared.
There was real pain in his eyes. Real anger. For the first time, I saw Jake Morrison as something other than the cold businessman who'd destroyed my deal.
I saw him as someone who'd been hurt. Like me.
He framed you. Then moved on to his next target.
His next targets, Jake corrected. Plural. I've tracked at least five people David's destroyed in the last decade. You're just the most recent.
Why didn't you warn me?
Jake's expression hardened, but something flickered in his eyes. Something that looked like guilt. I tried. Three years ago, David showed me evidence that you were inflating property values on that fifty-million-dollar deal. Documents, emails, financial records—all with your signature. I believed him.
The deal. The one that would have saved Chen Technologies when we were still struggling. The one Jake Morrison had publicly destroyed.
You stood in front of those investors and called me a fraud, I whispered.
I know. His hands curled into fists on the table. Strong hands. I wondered randomly what they'd feel like—then immediately hated myself for wondering.
You cost me everything. Investors pulled out. My reputation was destroyed. It took me two years to rebuild.
I know. Jake's voice dropped lower. And I spent those two years trying to apologize. You blocked my number. Returned my letters. Refused every meeting.
Because you humiliated me!
Because I was stupid enough to believe David! Jake's voice rose for the first time, and the passion in it sent a shock through my system. He played me perfectly. Showed me exactly what I needed to see to pull out of the deal. I didn't know until months later that the evidence was fabricated.
We stared at each other across the table, years of anger and hurt hanging between us. His eyes were blazing, his chest rising and falling with emotion.
He was furious. And somehow that fury made him even more attractive.
Stop it, I screamed at myself. He's still the enemy.
But a tiny voice whispered: What if he's not?
Why should I believe you? I asked finally, my voice quieter.
Jake pulled out his phone and slid it across the table. Our fingers brushed for just a second—a spark of contact that made my skin tingle.
I pulled my hand back quickly. What is this?
Proof.
I picked up the phone, careful not to touch his hand again. The screen showed an email chain from four years ago. David Chen sending Jake evidence of my fraud. Documents I'd never created. Emails I'd never sent.
Exactly like the evidence David had shown the board this morning.
He used the same playbook, I breathed. The exact same setup.
That's what he does. Finds successful people, gains their trust, then destroys them from the inside. Jake's voice was bitter, but when I looked up, his eyes were gentle. Understanding.
He got it. He understood what it felt like to be destroyed by someone you trusted.
I've spent two years investigating him, Jake continued. Trying to figure out his pattern. His motivation.
And?
And I have no idea why he does it. Money? Power? Revenge for something? He covers his tracks too well.
I scrolled through more emails on Jake's phone, hyperaware that Jake was watching me. I could feel his gaze on my face, intense and focused.
When I looked up, our eyes met and held.
For a moment—just a moment—something passed between us. Recognition. Understanding. A connection that felt dangerous and electric.
I looked away first, my heart pounding.
He worked for you, I said, trying to focus. But he's my uncle. My father's brother. Why would he destroy his own family?
That's what I've been trying to figure out. Jake took his phone back, and again our fingers brushed. This time neither of us pulled away immediately. But whatever his reason, he's not done. Not with you, and not with me.
The contact lasted maybe two seconds. But I felt it everywhere.
What do you mean? My voice came out breathier than I intended.
Jake pulled out a business card and slid it across the table, keeping his eyes on mine. David thrives on making his victims fight each other while he profits from the chaos. You and me? We've been enemies for three years. Exactly what he wanted.
I stared at the card. Morrison Properties. Jake's direct number.
What are you saying?
I'm saying David's afraid of something. Jake leaned closer, and I caught myself leaning in too. Like magnets pulling together. And I think that something is you and me working together instead of destroying each other.
You want to team up? With me?
I want to stop him before he does this to anyone else. Jake's eyes were intense, burning into mine. But I can't do it alone. I've tried. He's too careful, too smart. I need someone who knows him from the inside. Someone he trusts enough to make mistakes around.
He just destroyed my entire life. He doesn't trust me anymore.
He thinks you're broken. Finished. Not a threat. Jake's voice dropped lower, almost intimate. That's when people make mistakes—when they think they've already won.
I wanted to say no. To walk away from Jake Morrison and never see him again.
But sitting across from him, seeing the determination in his eyes, feeling this strange pull between us—I couldn't deny that together, we might actually have a chance.
I need time to think, I said, even though my body was screaming yes to something I didn't want to name.
You don't have time. David's moving on to his next phase already.
What next phase?
Jake's phone buzzed. He looked at the screen and his face went pale.
What? I demanded, leaning forward. What is it?
He turned the phone toward me, and our heads bent close together to read it. So close I could feel his breath on my cheek.
A news alert: Chen Technologies Announces Merger with Reeves AI. Marcus Reeves Named CEO of Combined Company. David Chen Named Chairman of the Board.
No, I whispered.
Jake's hand covered mine on the table. The touch was warm, solid, grounding. The merger was planned from the beginning. David didn't just want to destroy you. He wanted to steal your company and hand it to Marcus and his daughter.
I should have pulled my hand away. But I didn't.
When you're ready to fight back, call me, Jake said quietly, his thumb brushing across my knuckles in a gesture that felt far too intimate for two enemies. Because David's coming for both of us. And he won't stop until we're completely destroyed.
He stood, finally releasing my hand. The loss of contact felt wrong somehow.
I stared at the business card, my skin still tingling where he'd touched me.
Wait, I called out.
He stopped but didn't turn around. His broad shoulders were tense.
If we do this—if I help you—I want one thing in return.
Name it.
When we take him down, I want my company back. All of it.
Jake finally turned, and the smile that crossed his face was devastating. Dangerous and beautiful and completely unfair.
Deal.
The elevator doors closed behind him, leaving me alone with a decision that could either save me or destroy what little I had left.
And with the confusing, terrifying realization that maybe I didn't hate Jake Morrison quite as much as I thought I did.
My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number.
Tick tock, Vanessa. David's not done with you yet. And neither am I. —M
Marcus.
My hands shook as I stared at the message, all thoughts of Jake Morrison's dark eyes vanishing.
Another text came through. This time with a photo.
My father. Standing with David and Marcus. All three of them smiling.
The caption underneath made my blood freeze:
Family dinner. Celebrating the merger. Wish you were here.
My own father was working with them.
Everyone I'd ever trusted had betrayed me.
Except maybe the one person I'd sworn to hate forever.
The one person whose touch still burned on my skin.
I picked up Jake Morrison's business card and dialed.
He answered on the first ring. Vanessa.
Just my name. But the way he said it—low and intense—sent shivers down my spine.
I'm in, I said. Let's destroy David Chen.
There was a pause. Then: I'll pick you up tomorrow. Nine AM. Wear something that says you're not broken.
I'm not broken.
I know. His voice dropped even lower. That's why David's going to lose.
The line went dead.
I sat alone in the empty café, staring at my phone, my hand still tingling from where Jake had touched it.
This was a terrible idea. Working with Jake Morrison. Trusting him.
But as I touched my fingers where his had been, I realized the terrifying truth:
Part of me wanted to.