Isla
The office was too quiet.
The kind of quiet that made Isla's pulse spike, her nerves tightening like a drawn bowstring.
Damien Blackwood was watching her.
She could feel it—his gaze pressing against her like a tangible force, assessing, unraveling. It had been like this for days now. Ever since she started working at Blackwood Enterprises, he had made it his mission to test her patience, to push her limits.
But today felt different.
Darker.
More dangerous.
She kept her attention on the computer screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she forced herself to focus on her work.
It didn't matter that Damien's office door was open, that the scent of his cologne—woodsmoke, leather, something undeniably male—lingered in the air.
It didn't matter that every time he spoke, his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
She hated him.
Didn't she?
A sharp knock broke the silence.
Isla's head snapped up just as Damien's deep voice cut through the air.
"Enter."
She turned slightly, watching as a man strode into Damien's office. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a suit that screamed wealth and arrogance.
Lucas Sterling.
One of Damien's closest business partners.
And one of her father's former friends.
Her stomach twisted, memories slamming into her like a freight train.
"It's just business, James."
"You don't understand, Isla. We can't trust them."
The last time she had seen Lucas, he had been sitting in her father's office, whispering in hushed tones about deals gone wrong, about betrayals Isla hadn't fully understood at the time.
Now, years later, he was here—still standing beside the man who had ruined them.
Her hands curled into fists beneath the desk.
She wanted to listen. To hear what they were talking about.
But that would mean getting closer.
And getting closer to Damien Blackwood was the last thing she needed.
Damien
He had seen the shift in her the moment Lucas walked in.
The tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers tightened around the mouse, her pulse flickering at the base of her throat.
She was remembering.
Good.
Damien leaned back in his chair, watching her from the corner of his eye as Lucas spoke.
"She's been asking questions," Lucas said. "Digging into things she shouldn't."
Damien's gaze flicked back to Isla.
She looked composed. Controlled.
But he knew better.
"She's not a threat," Damien said smoothly.
Lucas scoffed. "Yet."
Damien didn't reply.
Because the truth was, Isla Monroe was already a threat.
Not to his business.
But to him.
To his focus. His control.
He should fire her.
End this before it became something neither of them could walk away from.
But when she glanced up—her hazel eyes burning with something he couldn't quite name—he knew he wouldn't.
No, he wanted to keep her close.
Wanted to see how far she'd go.
Wanted to see what would happen when she finally realized that she wasn't the one playing the game.
He was.
And in the end…
He always won.