Melanie's hand trembled as she stared at the note. You should've taken the deal.
The words were simple, yet the implication was chilling. Her breath came shallow, her chest tightening as unease curled through her stomach like a venomous snake. She scanned the parking lot, her sharp eyes darting from shadow to shadow.
Empty.
The envelope fluttered to the ground as she reached for her phone. With a swipe, she dialed Dana.
"Ma'am?" Dana's voice came through, chipper as usual.
"Don't call me that. I've told you it makes me sound ancient," Melanie snapped, her nerves on edge. "Has anything unusual happened at the office? Any calls, strange visitors?"
"No, but… are you okay? You sound… off."
Melanie caught herself and forced a steady tone. "I'm fine. Just keep your ears open. And Dana?"
"Yes?"
"If anyone asks about me, play dumb."
---
Rhys's Games
Meanwhile, back at Edwards Global, Rhys stood in his office, gazing out at the city below. The skyline was a mosaic of glimmering lights, but his focus wasn't on the view.
It was on the small stack of papers in his hand: Melanie's financial projections for Scott Enterprises.
A slow smirk crept across his face. She was good, he'd give her that. But good wasn't enough to survive in his world.
A knock interrupted his thoughts, and Steven entered without waiting for permission.
"What do you want?" Rhys asked, his tone clipped.
Steven slouched against the doorframe, his cocky grin firmly in place. "Just came to see how the great Rhys Edwards handles rejection. Heard she turned down your little truce."
Rhys turned, his eyes narrowing. "You're awfully invested in this."
"Because it's entertaining," Steven replied. "Watching you pretend you don't care while she twists the knife deeper? Priceless."
Rhys's jaw clenched. "Stay out of it, Steven."
"Or what?" Steven taunted, stepping closer. "You'll sic your lawyers on me? Face it, Rhys. You've lost your edge. The old you would've crushed her by now."
Rhys didn't respond, but his silence spoke volumes.
Steven chuckled. "You know, if you don't handle her, I will."
Rhys's hand shot out, gripping Steven's collar and slamming him against the wall. "Touch her, and I'll bury you. Do you understand?"
Steven raised his hands in mock surrender, his smirk never faltering. "Relax, big guy. I'm just here for the show."
Rhys released him, turning away in disgust. "Get out."
As Steven left, Rhys's mind raced. He didn't trust Steven's intentions—or his own.
---
Melanie Strikes Back
The next morning, Melanie arrived at Scott Enterprises with a renewed fire in her veins. She wouldn't let Rhys or anyone else rattle her.
"Dana!" she called as she marched into her office.
Dana appeared almost instantly, clutching a steaming cup of coffee. "Morning! I got you—"
"Later," Melanie interrupted. "What did you find on Steven Clarkson?"
Dana hesitated, then handed over a slim folder. "Not much, but he's got a reputation for… aggressive tactics."
Melanie skimmed the file, her eyes narrowing. "Aggressive is an understatement. This guy's a walking red flag."
Dana shifted uncomfortably. "Do you think he's behind… you know, the note?"
Melanie snapped the folder shut. "It doesn't matter who's behind it. If they think they can intimidate me, they're in for a rude awakening."
She grabbed her phone and dialed a number she hadn't used in years.
"Cameron? It's me," she said when the line connected. "I need a favor."
---
The Dinner Party
That evening, Melanie found herself at a high-profile networking event hosted by one of Clearwater's board members. It was a golden opportunity to sway opinions—but also a potential battlefield.
She entered the grand ballroom in a sleek black gown, every inch the queen she had become. Heads turned as she glided through the room, her confidence a palpable force.
Rhys was already there, holding court near the bar. His sharp navy suit accentuated his broad shoulders, and his cold blue eyes scanned the room like a predator searching for prey.
Their gazes locked.
For a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath. Then, Rhys raised his glass in a silent toast, his smirk daring her to approach.
Melanie ignored him, heading straight for the board member she needed to impress.
But Rhys wasn't one to be ignored.
"Scott," he drawled as he appeared at her side, his presence commanding attention.
She turned to him with a forced smile. "Edwards. How predictable."
"Careful," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "People might think you're avoiding me."
"And what if I am?" she shot back.
Rhys chuckled, the sound sending an unbidden shiver down her spine. "You're not very good at it."
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a waiter, who offered Melanie a glass of champagne. She accepted it, her fingers brushing Rhys's as she did.
The brief contact felt like an electric shock.
"Enjoy the party," Rhys said, his voice dripping with mock courtesy.
"Oh, I intend to," Melanie replied, her tone equally cutting.
---
The Trap
As the evening wore on, Melanie found herself cornered by none other than Steven Clarkson.
"Ms. Scott," he said, his grin as sharp as a blade. "I've heard so much about you."
"I'm sure," she replied coolly.
Steven stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with something that made her skin crawl. "It's not often I meet a woman who can hold her own against Rhys Edwards. Impressive."
"I'm not here to impress anyone," Melanie said, her voice icy.
"Pity," Steven said, his grin widening. "Because you certainly have my attention."
Before Melanie could respond, Rhys appeared at her side, his expression thunderous.
"Clarkson," he said, his tone a warning. "Back off."
Steven held up his hands in mock surrender. "Relax, Edwards. I'm just making conversation."
"She's not interested," Rhys said, his voice as cold as steel.
Steven's grin faded, replaced by a flicker of anger. "Careful, Rhys. You're starting to sound possessive."
Rhys stepped closer, his towering presence forcing Steven to take a step back. "Leave. Now."
Steven hesitated, then smirked. "This isn't over."
As he walked away, Melanie turned to Rhys, her eyes blazing. "I don't need you to fight my battles."
"Maybe not," Rhys said, his gaze locking with hers. "But someone has to keep you alive long enough to win the war."
---
The Aftermath
Later that night, Melanie sat alone in her penthouse, replaying the events of the evening in her mind.
She hated the way Rhys got under her skin, the way his presence seemed to unsettle her in ways she couldn't explain.
Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up, expecting another cryptic message.
But it was a simple text from Rhys:
Next time, don't wear black. You're more of a red.
Melanie stared at the screen, her emotions a confusing mix of anger, annoyance, and something she couldn't quite name.
Throwing the phone onto the couch, she leaned back and closed her eyes.
This isn't over.