Valeria's POV

The cold wind swept through the city, the crisp night air biting at my skin as I stepped out of the sleek, black limousine. Siren Industries loomed before me, an unshakable pillar of power I had carefully crafted. The building gleamed in the moonlight, reflecting my empire, my legacy, and the world I controlled.

I adjusted the collar of my coat, my violet eyes sharp and calculating, scanning the surroundings. Every corner, every shadow was an extension of my influence, and nothing escaped my notice. I had spent decades building Siren Industries into the unyielding force it was today. People feared me not only because of my wealth but because of the power I wielded-power that no one could take from me.

As I walked into the building, the sleek, modern lobby greeted me with its soft lights and cold marble floors. The hum of activity was familiar, the quiet whispers of employees who worked for me, who obeyed my every command without question. They knew what happened to those who disrespected me, who thought they could challenge me.

I wasn't a mere CEO; I was a force of nature. Untouchable, ruthless, and deadly. The world of business was just a playground, and the real world-the supernatural world-was where I truly thrived.

In the office

They never learn, these men who think they're exceptional.

I watched as Adrian Blake walked into my office, every bit as confident as I'd expected. Tall, sharp-eyed, a faint smirk on his lips like he'd already won some unspoken battle. I recognized his type instantly-the kind who thought himself immune to charm, invulnerable to danger. It was almost too easy. He just didn't know it yet.

"Ms. Moretti," he said, pausing just inside the door as if deciding whether to acknowledge the power emanating from every inch of this room.

I let him stand there for a moment longer than necessary. Just to remind him of who was in charge. His gaze flicked around the space-floor-to-ceiling windows, art worth a small fortune, black marble floors that reflected the dim, wintry light from outside. An empire disguised as an office.

I didn't bother to look up from my tablet as I spoke. "Mr. Blake, the firm's 'rising star.' Or should I call you the 'Pitbull,' as your colleagues seem to prefer?"

That cracked his armor just a little. A flicker of annoyance flashed across his face before he regained his composure. "I see my reputation precedes me." His voice was calm, smooth. He was good at this game; I'd give him that.

"Don't flatter yourself." I finally looked up, giving him a deliberately slow, assessing glance. "Reputations are often exaggerated. I prefer to see things for myself." I arched a brow, waiting for him to rise to the bait.

But instead of stammering or blushing like so many men before him, he just looked back at me, his mouth curving into a faint smirk. "Good to know. But I'd like to think you wouldn't have me here if you didn't see something worth your time."

He was clever, this one. I almost laughed. Almost.

I leaned back in my chair, crossing one leg over the other in a deliberate, unhurried movement. His gaze flickered-just for a moment-but he didn't break his steady, defiant stare. Impressive. "Tell me, Mr. Blake," I said, letting each word roll slowly off my tongue, "how exactly do you plan to 'advise' me?"

His confidence never wavered. "Well, that depends on how much trouble you're planning to get into," he replied, his tone casual, almost mocking. "I've heard stories. Let's just say I like a challenge."

Oh, I did laugh at that. Quiet, low, enough to unsettle him. "A challenge? You think you're up to it?"

He leaned forward, daring to rest a hand on the edge of my desk. "Why don't you try me?"

Bold. But foolish.

The men who walked into my life always thought they were immune. Immune to my influence, my charm, my... powers. But the more they thought themselves strong, the easier they were to break. And he was already teetering on the edge of that delicious trap, whether he knew it or not.

"Let's make one thing clear," I said, lowering my voice, letting it slip into something darker, more dangerous. "I don't need saving, Mr. Blake. And I don't need you."

The corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk. "Good. Because I'm not here to save you."

I could feel the energy shifting, crackling between us. He didn't realize that his smirk, his defiance, only made him more fascinating to me. Like a moth dancing right into the flame, he was already dangerously close to falling.

But of course, he didn't know that. Not yet.

"Well, we'll see," I replied, dismissively, returning my attention to the tablet in my hand. "You may go. I'll call if I need you."

He hesitated-just for a fraction of a second-before retreating, like he'd realized he was being dismissed but wasn't quite sure he wanted to leave. The game had only just begun, and we both knew it.

He'd be back. They always came back.

As the door closed behind him, I allowed myself a small smile. This one was going to be fun.