The Sicilian morning carried the scent of sea salt and ambition. Melanie Scott, still recuperating emotionally from the auction's chaos, stood on the balcony of her temporary villa. Her gaze lingered on the distant horizon as her phone buzzed relentlessly.
On the other end of the call, her assistant back in New York rattled off numbers and updates.
"Scott Enterprises is holding steady, Ms. Scott," the assistant said. "But there's chatter about Edwards Corporation and Clarkson Group circling a potential buyout of one of our partners."
Melanie's fingers tightened around the phone. "Which partner?"
"GreenTech Energy," came the reply.
"Of course," Melanie muttered. GreenTech Energy was small but crucial, and it made sense why her rivals would aim for it.
"I'll handle it," she said before ending the call.
But handling it meant confronting both Rhys Edwards and Steven Clarkson, neither of whom had left Sicily after the auction.
---
Dana's Point of View
Dana watched Melanie from the kitchen, her timid nature battling with her protective instincts. While Melanie appeared calm, Dana could see the storm brewing beneath her composed exterior.
She set down the coffee she'd been brewing and cleared her throat. "Mel, are you okay?"
Melanie turned, her guarded expression softening slightly. "I'm fine, Dana. Just—work stuff."
Dana hesitated. "Does it have anything to do with Mr. Edwards? Or… Steven Clarkson?"
Melanie's lips twitched, but she didn't answer. That told Dana everything.
"You know," Dana said cautiously, "they're both… interested in you."
Melanie snorted. "Interested? Please, Dana. They're just obsessed with winning, and I'm the battlefield."
Dana couldn't argue with that. But she had seen the way Rhys looked at Melanie during the auction—protective, possessive. Steven's gaze was different, almost calculating yet intense. Both men clearly wanted her, though their reasons might differ.
---
Steven's Point of View
Steven lounged on the terrace of his rented villa, sipping espresso as his assistant, Erica Vaughn, went through his schedule.
"You have a meeting with the GreenTech executives tomorrow," Erica said. "And an informal dinner with Mr. De Luca, the local industrialist."
Steven waved her off, his mind elsewhere. The memory of Melanie and Rhys at the auction still lingered. He'd been annoyed at first, but now it felt more like a game—one he was determined to win.
"Cancel the dinner," Steven said abruptly.
Erica raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure? De Luca—"
"I said cancel it," Steven snapped. Then, with a smirk, he added, "I have other priorities."
He leaned back, his thoughts drifting to Melanie. She wasn't like the other women in their world—she was sharp, resilient, and maddeningly out of reach. But Steven was nothing if not persistent.
---
Rhys's Point of View
Rhys paced the length of his villa's library, his frustration barely contained. GreenTech was a key acquisition, but every move he made seemed to intersect with Steven's.
"Clarkson," he growled under his breath.
But GreenTech wasn't the only thing on his mind. Melanie's face kept intruding on his thoughts—her defiance, her vulnerability, the way she had clung to his arm for a fleeting moment at the auction.
"Damn it," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
His phone buzzed, and he picked up to hear his COO in New York.
"We've hit a snag with the GreenTech deal," the man said. "Clarkson's offering them double what we proposed."
Rhys clenched his jaw. "Then we'll offer triple."
"That's not practical, sir."
Rhys's voice was cold. "Then make it practical. I'm not losing this deal—or to him."
As the call ended, Rhys knew he wasn't just fighting for a company. He was fighting for control—of the game, of his emotions, and, most importantly, of Melanie.
---
The Unexpected Dinner
That evening, Melanie received an invitation to a private dinner hosted by a mysterious benefactor connected to the auction. Reluctantly, she accepted, hoping it might provide an opportunity to address the GreenTech issue.
When she arrived, however, she found both Rhys and Steven already seated at the table.
Her stomach sank. "This has to be a joke."
Steven stood, his grin wide. "Melanie, always a pleasure."
Rhys didn't rise but tilted his head in acknowledgment, his sharp eyes locking onto hers.
The host, an older man named Marco De Luca, welcomed her warmly. "Ms. Scott, I'm honored you could join us. Please, sit."
Melanie sat stiffly, aware of the tension radiating between the two men. Throughout the meal, the conversation was polite but laced with subtle barbs.
"Scott Enterprises seems to be struggling with innovation lately," Steven said smoothly, sipping his wine.
Melanie raised an eyebrow. "Innovation is about quality, not quantity. Unlike some, I don't throw money at problems hoping they'll disappear."
Rhys smirked at Steven's barely contained irritation. "She has a point, Clarkson. Perhaps you should take notes."
Steven's eyes narrowed. "I don't need notes when I'm already leading."
"And yet," Rhys replied coolly, "you're here chasing the same deals as the rest of us."
De Luca laughed, trying to ease the tension. "Ah, competition breeds excellence, no?"
But Melanie had had enough. "If you gentlemen are done measuring egos, perhaps we can focus on the matter at hand."
Her firm tone silenced them, but the glances they exchanged promised that this was far from over.
---
Dana's Quiet Observations
Back at the villa, Dana flipped through the evening's paperwork, pausing to look at a photograph of Melanie.
"She has no idea, does she?" Dana muttered to herself.
She'd seen it—how Rhys and Steven looked at Melanie, how they maneuvered around her like wolves circling their prey. Dana didn't envy her boss. Being desired was one thing, but being caught between two powerhouses like them was another entirely.
Still, Dana couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous.
---
The Cliffhanger
As the night deepened, Melanie sat by her bedroom window, replaying the dinner in her mind. Her phone buzzed with a message.
Unknown Number: Be careful, Melanie. Not everyone is who they seem.
Her heart raced as she stared at the message, trying to decipher its meaning. Was it a warning? A threat? And who had sent it?
Outside, Rhys stood in the shadows, watching the light in her window. He didn't know who had sent the message, but he felt an unease he couldn't ignore.
Meanwhile, Steven sat in his car, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Whatever game Rhys thought he was playing, Steven was ready to match him move for move.
And so, the lines between rivalry and obsession blurred further, setting the stage for a battle neither man could afford to lose.