The grand hall of the Sterling Hotel was alive with a symphony of clinking glasses, muted laughter, and the quiet hum of whispered deals. Lana Daniels stood at the edge of the room, her hands clenched into fists so tight her nails bit into her palms. Tonight, everything was on the line. If she failed here, she wouldn't just lose a contract—she'd lose everything.
The chandelier above glittered with a thousand lights, casting a glow that made the room seem ethereal. The people inside? Not so much. They were wolves dressed in designer suits, and she was the lamb foolish enough to walk into their den. Her sleek black dress clung to her curves, understated yet elegant, but no amount of couture could mask the fact that she didn't belong here. Not really.
Her gaze swept the room, finally landing on him.
Nicholas Sterling.
The man who held her future in his hands. He was standing near the bar, surrounded by men in suits who hung on his every word. His presence dominated the space, a storm waiting to erupt. Tall, with sharp cheekbones and icy blue eyes, he looked like a god among mortals. Untouchable. Unrelenting.
But Lana wasn't here to admire him. She was here to make him listen.
Her mother's clinic—her life's work—was on the brink of collapse. Lana had spent weeks fighting off creditors, begging banks for extensions, and watching her mother's health deteriorate under the weight of stress. The clinic had been her mother's dream, a sanctuary for people who couldn't afford the skyrocketing costs of healthcare. And now, it was slipping away.
Unless Lana could get Nicholas Sterling to sign her contract.
This wasn't just any deal. The project she was pitching could revolutionize his luxury real estate empire. It was bold, risky, and exactly the kind of move Nicholas was known for. But getting him to even glance at her proposal was going to take more than just ambition. It would take strategy. And courage.
Taking a deep breath, Lana straightened her shoulders and stepped forward, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Each step felt like a countdown to battle.
As she approached, Nicholas glanced up. His gaze locked on hers, and for a moment, the air seemed to thicken. There was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by cold detachment. He didn't smile. He didn't speak. He simply waited.
"Mr. Sterling," Lana said, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. "Lana Daniels. I believe we need to talk."
One of the men standing next to him chuckled. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. But Mr. Sterling doesn't—"
Nicholas raised a hand, silencing the man without a word. His eyes never left Lana's face. "What makes you think you're worth my time?"
Lana didn't flinch. She had prepared for this. "Because I'm offering you something no one else can."
A ghost of a smirk played on his lips. "Is that so? And what might that be?"
She reached into her clutch, pulling out a crisp, leather-bound folder. "A development proposal that will not only expand your portfolio but redefine your brand."
The men around him exchanged glances, amusement flickering in their expressions. But Nicholas wasn't laughing. He studied her with a sharp, calculating gaze, as if trying to unravel her in a single glance.
Before he could respond, a waiter stumbled nearby, the tray in his hands tipping dangerously. Lana had just enough time to register the motion before a glass of red wine splashed across her dress. Gasps rippled through the room.
For a moment, she stood frozen, the sticky liquid seeping into the fabric, the humiliation burning hotter than the wine itself. Her confidence wavered. She could feel the eyes of the crowd on her, judging her, dismissing her.
Nicholas's smirk deepened. "Well, this is turning out to be quite the show. Are you sure you're ready to negotiate with me, Miss Daniels?"
Heat crept up her neck, but she refused to let it show. She met his gaze head-on. "A spilled drink won't change the fact that what I'm offering is worth your time. Five minutes, Mr. Sterling. That's all I need."
His smirk faded, replaced by something unreadable. He glanced at his watch, then back at her. "Follow me."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode toward a set of double doors at the back of the hall. Lana hesitated for a split second, acutely aware of the murmurs behind her, before lifting her chin and following him. Each step felt heavier than the last.
The doors opened into a private lounge, a stark contrast to the opulence of the main hall. The walls were lined with dark wood, the lighting dim and intimate. Nicholas gestured for her to sit, but he remained standing, his hands in his pockets as he watched her.
"Five minutes," he said. "Start talking."
Lana took a deep breath and opened the folder, spreading out the documents on the low glass table. "This isn't just a real estate project. It's a legacy. A luxury development that integrates cutting-edge sustainable technology without compromising on elegance. A project that will set you apart from every competitor in the market."
Nicholas's eyes flicked over the papers, but his expression gave nothing away. "Sustainability is a nice buzzword, but it doesn't sell. What makes you think this will?"
"Because people don't just want homes anymore," Lana said, leaning forward. "They want stories. They want to say they're part of something bigger. This project isn't just about buildings—it's about creating a community that represents innovation and exclusivity. And with your name attached to it, it becomes a statement."
His gaze lifted to hers, sharp and unyielding. "You're passionate, I'll give you that. But passion doesn't close deals."
"Then let me prove it to you," she countered. "Give me one month. I'll deliver a full market analysis, a preliminary design portfolio, and investor interest. All I need is your endorsement."
The room fell silent. Lana held her breath, her heart pounding as she waited for his response.
Finally, Nicholas leaned back, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You've got nerve, Miss Daniels. I like that. But liking you doesn't mean I trust you."
"You don't have to trust me," she said quickly. "Trust the numbers. Trust the results I'll bring you."
He studied her for a long moment, the weight of his gaze almost unbearable. Then, without a word, he reached for the folder, flipping through the pages with deliberate precision.
"I'll think about it," he said finally. "But don't expect me to go easy on you. If you're as good as you claim, you'll need to prove it."
Relief flooded her, but she didn't let it show. "I wouldn't expect anything less."
As Nicholas stood and walked toward the door, Lana realized something else. This wasn't just about the contract anymore. This was about him—his power, his allure, and the dangerous game they had just begun to play.
And she wasn't sure if she was ready for what came next.