The dinner was supposed to be a celebration, or so Justin had claimed. But as Addison sat at the sprawling, marble dining table in the villa's lavishly decorated dining room, she could feel the weight of the tension in the air. The room was grand, bathed in the warm glow of soft candlelight, yet it felt strangely empty. Even the lavish decor couldn't mask the undercurrent of discomfort swirling around the group.
Justin, seated at the head of the table, had barely touched his plate of seared tuna. His eyes flickered between the various members of his team, assessing them, but it was clear his mind was elsewhere. It wasn't hard to see where his focus lay—he was still stewing over Katrina's rejection earlier that afternoon.
Addison had learned quickly that when Justin was in one of these moods, he could be unbearable. He wanted perfection and control—both of which seemed to slip through his fingers every time he encountered someone who didn't bend to his will. And from the way he was ignoring the conversation around him, it was clear that Katrina's refusal had gnawed at him in a way he wasn't used to.
Across from Addison, Pete shuffled in his seat, still nursing his injured leg, which was propped up awkwardly on a cushion. He looked tired, his eyes dim with the weight of the long days, and Addison could see the way he was trying to stay out of Justin's line of fire.
"Have you considered that maybe your approach is a little... too aggressive?" Addison couldn't help herself. The words were out before she could stop them. She had been holding her tongue for most of the evening, but it was becoming harder to keep quiet.
Justin's eyes snapped to her, his brow furrowing, his jaw tightening. "What did you say?" His voice, though calm, was heavy with irritation.
Addison met his gaze, feeling a surge of frustration rising within her. "I mean exactly what I said. You can't just bulldoze your way through every situation and expect people to give you what you want. It doesn't work like that." She set down her wineglass, suddenly aware of how the room seemed to shrink around them.
The others at the table went silent, their conversations halting mid-sentence. Pete's eyes darted between them, unsure whether to intervene or just let it play out.
Justin's lips twitched into a forced smile, but there was no humor in it. "And who exactly are you to tell me how to run my business?" His voice was sharp now, dripping with condescension. "You think you know better than me?"
Addison felt her cheeks flush with heat, but she wasn't about to back down. "It's not about knowing better, it's about being realistic. People aren't pawns in your game. You can't just throw money at them and expect them to fall in line. Look at Katrina—she's not afraid to stand up to you. You might want to consider why."
Justin's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing. "I'm not interested in being lectured about my business, Addison. I know what I'm doing." His voice was low now, a warning that sent a chill down her spine.
The silence in the room grew thicker. Addison could hear the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the distant clinking of silverware from the kitchen, but everything else felt muffled as if the world were holding its breath.
Addison's fingers gripped the edge of the table, her nails pressing into the smooth surface. "Maybe you do, but it's not working. Not with Katrina, not with me—maybe not with anyone else who doesn't bend to your will. People aren't going to respect you just because you throw money at them. That's not how relationships work."
Justin's hand twitched on the edge of his glass, and for a split second, Addison thought he might lash out. Instead, he let out a sharp exhale, pushing himself back from the table. "This is absurd," he muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. "You don't understand the pressure I'm under. You don't get what it's like to have everything on the line every single day."
Addison's pulse quickened, and despite herself, she stood her ground. "I don't get it because I'm not trying to bulldoze my way through life. I don't make people feel small to get what I want." Her voice softened, just for a moment. "You think I don't understand pressure? You think I don't know what it feels like to have everything on the line?"
Justin stared at her, his expression unreadable. For a heartbeat, there was something in his eyes—something that wasn't arrogance, something that wasn't the cold, calculating Justin Ross she'd come to know. For just a brief moment, Addison could see the cracks forming in his exterior. He looked almost... human.
Pete cleared his throat awkwardly, shifting in his seat. "Maybe we can all just... cool off for a second, yeah? We're here to relax, not fight." His voice was quiet, but it was enough to pull Justin out of whatever momentary lapse in composure he had had.
Justin didn't respond right away, but after a moment, he nodded stiffly. "Fine. But don't think I need a lecture from you, Addison." His words were sharp, but there was something in them—something that told Addison he hadn't entirely dismissed her criticism.
The rest of the dinner passed in strained silence. Addison pushed her food around on her plate, her appetite gone. She kept her head down, watching the others at the table pretend like nothing had happened, but she couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between her and Justin.
Later, as the last of the dishes were cleared away, Justin excused himself, standing abruptly and walking toward the door with a clipped, tense gait. Addison watched him go, her thoughts spinning. She hadn't meant to start a confrontation, but there was something about his arrogance that set her off.
She tried to shake off the lingering tension as she excused herself from the table and headed outside to the patio. The cool night air greeted her, and she took a deep breath, trying to clear her head.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket again, and she pulled it out to check the message from Pete. You did good, Addy.
She stared at the text for a moment, then sighed, slipping the phone back into her pocket.
She hadn't expected to feel any satisfaction, but there it was—a strange mix of victory and unease.
As she looked up at the dark sky, the stars blinking back at her like silent witnesses, she realized that maybe Justin's walls weren't as impenetrable as he liked to think. And maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the brash, arrogant billionaire he presented to the world.
Addison couldn't help but wonder: What would happen if those walls came down?