The following morning broke pale and cold, but Passion Coleman was already dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, the sharp lines of the jacket crisp enough to cut. Her heels clicked softly across the marble floors as she walked to her office. She wore her armor well.
None of the interns who held their breath as she passed, none of the executives who straightened their spines in the boardroom, would ever guess she'd once been Lily Kent—a blood-soaked little girl pulled from the banks of a river.
Aria; one of her assistants stood near the glass wall, scanning a digital report on a tablet. She didn't look up as Passion entered, but she spoke with quiet precision. "Scott Bishop's office sent over a tentative proposal. He wants a follow-up meeting. Lunch. Private."
"Of course he does," Passion muttered, removing her coat and draping it on the back of her chair. "They always want private."
Her phone beeped. The code message from Matteo meaning information.
"Let them know I would be free for lunch but on my terrain. Set up a reservation and communicate the details for the meeting. That would be all for now." Aria left the room.
Passion immediately put a call through to Matteo.
"We've begun soft surveillance on Bishop Senior. Financials, habits, property. He's slippery, but not invisible. Details on some of his indiscretions would be delivered to your suite later tonight. Elena and I would be traveling this afternoon to check on the other businesses. Stay safe".
Passion didn't reply. She set down the phone and stared out at the London skyline. The city pulsed with life below—its people unaware of the war that brewed behind corporate logos and handshakes.
She walked to the private lounge adjacent to her office. Scott Bishop stood inside, arms casually crossed, a small smirk playing on his lips. His dark navy suit was perfectly tailored, and the sunlight from the high windows framed him like something out of a magazine.
"Miss Coleman," he said, stepping forward. "Or do you prefer Passion?"
"I prefer efficiency, where's the rest of your team?" she replied, taking a seat without gesturing for him to do the same.
"I like to do business personally when the sights are good". Scott chuckled and helped himself to the chair opposite hers. He handed a file over to her.
"You seem like a woman who doesn't appreciate small talk so let me get to the point—I think we'd make a hell of a team."
She arched a brow. "Professionally?"
He leaned forward slightly. "For now."
She studied him in silence. On the surface, he was disarming—self-assured without being arrogant, flirtatious without overstepping. But beneath that polish, there was something else. She couldn't tell if it was darkness... or simply the weight of the name he bore.
She tilted her head. "You're bold, Mr. Bishop. Most men wouldn't flirt with someone holding the power to derail half their future acquisitions."
"Most men aren't me," he replied smoothly.
Passion gave him a smile—cold, amused. "No. They're not."
She stood holding his proposal. "I'll think about your offer and have my assistant get back to you."
He rose too but didn't leave immediately. Instead, he leaned in slightly, close enough that she caught the faint scent of something sharp and expensive.
"You have interesting eyes, Passion. They make a man wonder what you're hiding."
She held his gaze without flinching. "You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
And with that, she turned and walked away, heels echoing on polished floors. She didn't look back.
But for the first time in years, her pulse wasn't steady.
"Do you think Scott suspects?" Passion asked later that night as she briefed Elena over a video call on the meeting.
"I don't think so," Elena said. "Your description makes him a man intrigued, not threatened."
Passion gave a low laugh. "That might be a problem. He was... curious. Polished, smug, and annoyingly charming in that public-school-boy way. He reminded me of every entitled man who's never been told no."