I watched the city lights flicker beyond the glass walls of my penthouse, the phone still warm in my grip.
Ivanna Sterling.
She was going to be a problem.
Not the kind that disrupted business. Not the kind that threatened power.
The kind that got under my skin.
I set my whiskey glass down, rolling my shoulders before tapping a number into my phone. One ring. Two. Then a familiar voice answered.
"Mr. Winston," my assistant greeted. "What can I do for you?"
"Find everything you can on Ivanna Sterling. Business dealings, family ties, investments, weaknesses—quietly."
A pause. "Understood. Do you anticipate—"
I ended the call before he could finish.
I didn't need to anticipate anything. I already knew how this would play out.
She would push. I would pull.
She would resist. I would break past it.
The only question was how long she could hold out.
I picked up my phone again and typed a message.
Tomorrow. 8 PM. I'll send the location. Don't be late.
I hovered over the text for a second before adding one last thing.
- Lawrence Winston.
She deserved to know the name of the man who was about to change her life.
The moment my phone buzzed, I knew it was him.
I had been waiting—pretending not to, but waiting all the same.
I picked it up from my vanity, my heart betraying me with the slightest quickened beat. The message was short. Precise. Unapologetically bold.
Tomorrow. 8 PM. I'll send the location. Don't be late.
And then—
- Lawrence Winston.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers tightening around the phone.
Lawrence Winston.
The name sent a ripple through my mind, as if I had heard it before but never bothered to care. But now, it held weight. Now, it came with a presence I couldn't ignore.
I tapped my nails against the screen, considering my next move.
He had issued an invitation—no, a summon.
But if he thought I would come running, he was sorely mistaken.
I smiled to myself, typing back.
And what makes you think I'll say yes?
The response came almost immediately.
Because you already have.
I inhaled sharply. Damn him.
Because he was right.
I hadn't deleted his number. I hadn't ignored his message.
I was still here. Engaging. Entertaining whatever this was turning into.
I set my phone down, staring at my reflection. What are you doing, Ivanna?
I knew better than this. I knew men like him—dangerously confident, always in control.
And yet, for the first time in a long time…
I wanted to play.