The ballroom music swelled, a hauntingly elegant melody that wrapped around Isabella like an invisible force. She had danced at corporate events before, but never like this—never with someone who felt like both an adversary and an undeniable pull.
Alexander Blackwood held her hand with practiced ease, his grip firm but not overpowering. His other hand rested lightly at her waist, an infuriating reminder of just how close they were.
"I must admit, Carter," he murmured, guiding her into a smooth turn, "I expected you to refuse."
Isabella tilted her chin slightly, refusing to let him see how his presence unsettled her. "And let you think I'm afraid of you? Please."
His lips twitched into that damnably smug smirk. "Ah, but you should be. I'm not known for being merciful to my competitors."
She met his gaze, fire burning in her chest. "Good thing I'm not looking for mercy. Just victory."
A slow chuckle rumbled in his chest as he spun her, pulling her back into him in one fluid movement. "Confidence is dangerous, Isabella," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.
"So is underestimating me," she shot back.
For a fleeting moment, something in his expression shifted—something dark and intrigued. Then, as if snapping back into the moment, he smirked again.
"I'll admit, you've made this more interesting than I anticipated," he said, leading her effortlessly through the steps. "But tell me, do you really think you can outplay me?"
Isabella's lips curled. "I already have."
Alexander arched a brow. "Have you now?"
She leaned in slightly, just enough to make it look like she was whispering in confidence, though her voice remained strong. "The Everett Deal? The contracts are finalized as of this evening."
For the first time, she saw something in his expression she hadn't seen before.
Surprise.
But it was gone in an instant, replaced by something even more dangerous—amusement.
"You're playing on my board, Carter," he murmured, spinning her one last time as the music slowed. "But don't forget—I own the game."
The final note lingered in the air as their dance ended. The room had faded away at some point, leaving just the two of them standing in the center, locked in an unspoken battle neither was ready to name.
Then Alexander did something that sent a shiver down her spine.
He lifted her hand and kissed it.
Isabella's breath caught. Not from romance, not from admiration—from challenge.
His smirk deepened. "Congratulations on your small victory," he murmured. "Enjoy it while it lasts."
And with that, he released her and walked away, leaving Isabella standing there with only one thought swirling in her mind.
This war was far from over.