The morning after the kiss, Ethan woke up with a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. He wasn't a man who let feelings interfere with business. For most of his life, emotions were something he controlled, boxed up, and used only when necessary. But Alicia Monroe had broken through that armor. And now, he wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
He stared at the ceiling of his penthouse apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows filled the room with sunlight. His bedroom looked like a magazine spread — clean lines, soft lighting, and custom-designed furniture. Yet everything felt off.
The night before had been... real. Not calculated. Not planned. She kissed him, and he kissed her back. There was no strategy, no agenda in that moment — at least not from his side. But Ethan had been in power too long to believe anything happened without purpose. He needed to be sure. Was Alicia being genuine? Or had she found a quicker path to influence?
He got out of bed, showered, and dressed in a tailored gray suit. As he tied his black silk tie, he stared at himself in the mirror. The same confident man stared back, but something in his eyes had changed — maybe a flicker of doubt.
At the office, Ethan's day started fast. He had back-to-back meetings with tech teams, a call with investors in Dubai, and then a board update. Still, his mind drifted to Alicia. She wasn't in the office that morning. He noticed.
Around noon, she walked in like nothing had happened. She wore a navy-blue dress with silver heels and carried a slim leather folder under one arm. Her hair was tied back, her makeup subtle but flawless.
"Morning," she said, setting the folder on his desk. "Preliminary evaluations of six properties in downtown Miami."
Ethan nodded, trying to read her expression. "You're late."
"I was on a call with the zoning office in Dade County," she replied calmly. "Figured you'd prefer that over me being on time and empty-handed."
He smirked despite himself. "Touché."
She didn't mention the kiss. Didn't give any indication that the night before had changed anything. Ethan respected that. He preferred control — of emotions, of situations, of outcomes. Still, he couldn't stop the feeling that something dangerous had started.
He flipped open the folder and scanned the documents. She had done her homework. The properties were diverse — an empty lot near the bay, an abandoned shopping plaza, two multi-unit residential buildings, and two parcels of land near a new commuter train line. It was a solid mix.
"These are good," he said, impressed. "Very good."
"I know," she said. "But they're not perfect. The bay lot has environmental restrictions. The shopping plaza has zoning challenges. The residential buildings are old and need serious rehab. And the parcels? One of them has a title dispute."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "And you're giving me problems instead of solutions?"
"I'm giving you the truth," she said, sitting across from him. "Real estate isn't clean. It's never clean. There's no perfect deal. You either take the risk or you get left behind."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, watching her. "You enjoy the game."
"I do," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "But I play it smart. And I play to win."
He liked that answer. Maybe too much.
Over the next few weeks, Ethan and Alicia worked closer than ever. They flew to Miami twice, toured properties, met with agents, and quietly met with politicians and city council members. Alicia moved quickly through rooms, shaking hands, reading people, and knowing exactly what to say. Ethan noticed how people opened up around her. She had a way of making people feel seen — even when she was playing them.
One night, after a long day of site visits and dinner with a city developer, they sat in the rooftop bar of their hotel. The air was warm, with a gentle breeze that carried the scent of the ocean.
Ethan sipped his club soda, eyes scanning the skyline. "You ever wonder if it's all worth it?"
Alicia leaned on the railing beside him. "The game?"
"Yeah. The deals. The money. The chasing."
She thought for a moment. "Sometimes. But then I remember where I came from."
Ethan turned to her.
"I grew up in a two-bedroom apartment in Little Havana. My dad was a truck driver. My mom cleaned offices. They worked hard. Always tired. I swore I'd never live like that. I wanted more."
"And now you have it?" Ethan asked.
"Some of it," she said. "Not all. But I'm getting there."
There was something real in her voice — not the ambition he was used to hearing, but pain. Struggle. Truth.
Ethan nodded. "I know what that's like."
He rarely talked about his past, but he saw something in Alicia that made him open up — just a little.
"My dad was a failed salesman. Always chasing dreams but never catching any. We moved a lot. I hated being the poor kid in a rich school."
Alicia looked at him. "That's why you built an empire."
"That's why I don't stop building," he said.
There was a pause. A shared silence. Then, slowly, she reached for his hand.
He didn't pull away.
The relationship between them deepened, both personally and professionally. Ethan gave Alicia more control. She now led meetings, managed contacts, and negotiated on behalf of Blake Real Estate Ventures. Some of his executives raised eyebrows, but no one dared to challenge him openly.
Behind closed doors, Samantha Patel voiced her concern during a strategy meeting.
"Ethan, this expansion is moving fast. Too fast. And Alicia has too much authority for someone so new to the company."
"She's qualified," Ethan said, not looking up from his tablet.
"I'm not questioning her skills," Samantha replied. "But she answers only to you. That's dangerous. You're bypassing checks and balances we've built for years."
"I know what I'm doing," Ethan said flatly.
Samantha paused. "Do you?"
Ethan looked up. "Careful, Sam."
Samantha stood her ground. "I'm loyal to this company. I've been with you from the start. But I won't sit back and watch it fall because of pride… or infatuation."
Ethan didn't respond immediately. Finally, he said, "Noted."
Samantha left the room, but her words lingered.
Meanwhile, Alicia introduced Ethan to a developer named Tony Delgado. A charismatic man in his early forties with slicked-back hair and a tan that spoke of long afternoons on yachts, Tony was well-known in Miami real estate circles. Some said he was brilliant. Others said he was dangerous.
They met at a golf club outside Miami. Ethan didn't play, but Tony insisted.
"This is where the real deals happen," Tony said, swinging his club.
Ethan watched him drive a ball straight down the fairway. "And what deal do you want to happen?"
"I've got three properties near the new highway expansion," Tony said. "Prime land. Undervalued. We go in together, split the risk, split the profits."
"And what's the catch?" Ethan asked.
"No catch," Tony said with a grin. "Just a little pressure on the local board. I've got contacts. We grease a few wheels, get the zoning changed, and boom — value triples overnight."
Ethan frowned. "Grease a few wheels?"
Tony shrugged. "It's how things get done. This isn't Silicon Valley, my friend. Down here, we play with real dirt, real people, and real politics."
Ethan glanced at Alicia. She didn't look surprised. She looked... approving.
He felt a twinge in his gut. His instincts had kept him alive in business for years. And right now, they were flashing red.
But then Tony added, "You want to make a name in real estate? You've got to stop playing safe. You've got to get your hands dirty."
Ethan looked out over the green field, the palm trees swaying in the distance.
Maybe Tony was right.
That night, back at the hotel, Ethan confronted Alicia.
"Why didn't you tell me Tony operated like that?"
She poured herself a glass of wine. "Because you wouldn't have taken the meeting."
"That's the point."
"Ethan, this isn't tech. You can't code your way into a construction permit. You have to navigate the system. Tony knows the system. He doesn't break the rules. He bends them."
"And you're okay with that?"
"I'm okay with results," she said. "Are you?"
Ethan stared at her. For the first time, he didn't have an answer.
In New York, Jordan Reed called.
"I looked into Tony Delgado," Jordan said. "He's been involved in at least three lawsuits. Two settlements. Nothing criminal, but a pattern."
Ethan paced his office. "So he's slippery."
"He's dangerous. Ethan, listen to me — you don't need him. You have resources. Build your real estate team from scratch. Do it clean."
"I don't have time," Ethan said. "The window in Miami is small. Prices are already rising. If we don't move now, someone else will."
"Since when do you chase deals out of fear?" Jordan asked.
That stopped Ethan. He didn't answer.
"Just… be careful," Jordan said softly. "You're not a god, Ethan. And even gods fall."
In the weeks that followed, Ethan agreed to the Miami partnership. Tony would lead the land acquisition. Alicia would oversee planning. Ethan would fund it. A triangle of ambition. A recipe for growth — or disaster.
Back at headquarters, murmurs grew louder. Some employees whispered about favoritism. Others worried about risk. But Ethan ignored them.
He was building something bigger. Stronger. More permanent.
And if it required bending a few rules?
So be it.