Aidan sat in his car long after he left Elina's penthouse, the city buzzing around him but his mind firmly planted on her expression. Hurt. Doubt. Disappointment. He had expected a dinner that would draw her closer—but instead, he had unintentionally stirred a storm.
He hated it.
The realization settled heavy in his chest: he didn't just want her attention anymore. He wanted her trust. He wanted her to look at him and not question if he had a dagger hidden behind his back.
The next morning, Elina stood before the mirror in her bedroom, her hands smoothing the front of her tailored navy pantsuit. Every detail was perfect. But her heart? A quiet war zone.
She'd barely slept, torn between logic and emotion. Between trusting her instincts and safeguarding her empire.
But business couldn't wait.
Her phone buzzed. A reminder from her assistant:
Langford Group: Proposal presentation at 10:00 AM.
Elina closed her eyes. The bid had to go forward. Knight Tech or not.
---
The boardroom at Langford was all polished surfaces and glass partitions. Elina and her team entered with confidence. As she opened her presentation folder, the doors swung again—and in walked Aidan.
He froze for a half-second when he saw her. But then he smiled. Cool. Collected.
"Miss Lane. Fancy seeing you here."
"Mr. Knight," she replied curtly.
Langford's CEO, a sharp-eyed woman named Clara Vaughan, gestured for them both to sit. "As I mentioned earlier, I like competition. It brings out the best ideas."
As presentations began, Elina shifted into CEO mode. Her voice was clear, confident, and commanding. Her vision for Langford's expansion was innovative, her numbers airtight.
Aidan followed, and to his credit, his pitch was equally polished. But Elina noticed something. He kept glancing at her, like he wasn't performing for Langford—he was performing for her.
When it ended, Clara stood. "We'll deliberate and reach out within the week. Thank you both."
The tension in the room only broke once they stepped into the hallway.
"You're good," Aidan said quietly.
"And you're still here," she replied.
"I didn't know about the bid, Elina. But now that I do, I won't pursue Langford."
She turned to him, stunned. "You're withdrawing?"
He nodded. "I'm not risking what we're building—not for a contract."
A storm of emotion rushed through her, but she schooled her face. "That would be... unexpected."
"So is how I feel about you."
She blinked. For once, the Queen of Control had no retort.
---
That evening, Elina found herself at the rooftop garden of Lane Industries—her private haven. It was a tranquil place: green ivy, gentle lights, and a view of the skyline that reminded her of how far she'd come.
A memory played in her mind. Her father, years ago, telling her, "Power is cold, Elina. If you want to survive, be colder."
She had lived by that. Until Aidan Knight walked into her life.
Her phone buzzed.
Aidan: Did I overstep?
She stared at the message. Then slowly typed back.
Elina: Maybe. But maybe I needed someone to.
She hit send.
And for the first time in weeks, she smiled.
_______
Elina was not used to this. Her life was precision, order, and layers of unshakable control. But ever since Aidan Knight showed up, all that had begun to blur around the edges. She told herself it was temporary—like a storm, he would pass.
But storms didn't send messages like that.
She arrived at the office earlier than usual, a latte in one hand and a folder of acquisition reports in the other. Her assistant, Mila, looked up and blinked.
"You're early," Mila noted.
"Had a lot on my mind."
Mila hesitated. "Does this have anything to do with Aidan Knight and the Langford bid?"
Elina raised an eyebrow. "What have you heard?"
"Only that he withdrew after seeing your pitch. Entire office is buzzing."
Elina's grip tightened slightly on the folder. "Focus on Lane Industries. Gossip doesn't pay bonuses."
"Yes, ma'am."
But even as she walked away, Elina knew she wasn't unaffected. She had stared at his text for hours last night before replying. Maybe I needed someone to.
It wasn't like her to admit vulnerability. To anyone.
So why did it feel like a relief?
---
Meanwhile, across town, Aidan watched his phone like it might offer more than pixels and silence. When her reply came the night before, he'd read it twice, three times.
He was making progress. But something told him Elina Lane wasn't a woman who could be won with charm alone. She would need proof. Steady, unshakeable proof.
So he called his team together.
"We're pivoting," he announced in the conference room. "Langford is off the table."
"But sir, we've already—"
"Divert the team. Knight Tech will not get a reputation for cutting down a rival to win. Not this one."
There was silence, but not for long.
His COO, Marcy, spoke first. "You're doing this for her."
He met her gaze. "I'm doing this because it's right. And yes, because she matters."
---
That night, Elina left her building later than usual. Rain tapped lightly on the roof of her car as her driver navigated through Midtown. She stared out the window, lost in thought.
When her phone buzzed again, she expected another reminder, another investor update.
But it was Aidan.
Aidan: Dinner. Not as rivals. Just two people. You choose the place. No pressure.
She almost smiled.
Almost.
---
Elina chose a small Italian bistro in the Upper West Side. Cozy. Unassuming. A test.
When she walked in, he was already there—no assistants, no suits, just him in a dark navy shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, charm tucked beneath sincerity.
"You picked well," he said as he stood. "Very un-CEO of you."
"Are you always this charming?"
"Only when I mean it."
She didn't respond immediately. The waiter arrived and they ordered. Wine for him. Mineral water for her.
"Why did you really drop Langford?" she asked once their plates arrived.
He didn't hesitate. "Because I knew if I won, I'd lose something more important."
"You barely know me, Aidan."
"I know you enough to want more."
Her heart skidded at the intensity in his voice. It wasn't a game for him. And that scared her more than if it were.
"You're trying very hard."
"Because you're worth the effort."
The rest of the night moved gently. Conversation. Laughter. A few stolen looks that lingered longer than necessary.
By the time they stepped outside, the rain had stopped but the streets glistened. He offered her his jacket; she shook her head.
"I'm not fragile, Aidan."
"Didn't say you were. But sometimes even the strongest people deserve comfort."
And with that, he walked her to her car but didn't lean in. Didn't press. Just smiled.
"Thank you for tonight," he said.
"You're welcome."
As the door closed, Elina realized something terrifying.
She wanted to see him again.
________________________________________
Elina Lane had not intended to dream about him.
But there he was, tall and certain in the quiet spaces of her mind, brushing back strands of her hair with an intimacy that didn't belong in a boardroom. His voice was warm velvet. Her control—normally her signature trait—was slipping like sand between her fingers.
She woke up tangled in silk sheets, sunlight leaking through the curtains of her penthouse suite like a traitor. She blinked slowly and turned her head, facing the skyline.
Damn him.
Work. Focus. Coffee.
The holy trinity of CEO survival.
She pushed herself out of bed, wrapped in her robe, and padded toward the kitchen where her in-built espresso machine already hummed to life on a timer. She sipped, stood by the window, and prepared for another day of hard decisions.
But Aidan Knight was in her system now. And she knew it.
---
Aidan was already at his desk, reviewing logistics reports when Marcy entered with a knowing look.
"Morning. I have the revised scope from Kobalt Industries. Also, Lane Inc. shares spiked last night. Word about your withdrawal must be circulating."
Aidan barely looked up. "Good. Let it be known I'm not here to burn bridges."
Marcy cocked a brow. "You're in deep."
He looked up then. "What makes you say that?"
"You're acting like a man who wants to build trust. You usually move fast, win faster. This... this is different."
He set his pen down. "That's because she's different."
"Just don't forget—women like Elina don't fall easy."
"I'm not asking her to fall," Aidan said. "I'm asking her to lean—just a little."
---
That afternoon, Elina met with her senior board over a new merger discussion. The details should have commanded her full attention, but she was distracted. She caught herself scanning her phone during a presentation.
He hadn't messaged her again. And she hated that it bothered her.
"Elina," Frank, her CFO, said sharply. "The numbers from Rivendale show a 14% gap. What's your stance?"
She blinked. "We walk. Lane Inc. doesn't play cleanup for sloppy financials."
There was a stunned pause. Then nods. Murmurs of agreement.
But inside, Elina wasn't proud of her decisiveness. She was unsettled.
After the meeting, she walked briskly toward her office. Mila followed.
"Mr. Knight sent a delivery. I left it on your desk."
Elina paused, her brow furrowing. "Delivery?"
Mila smiled lightly. "A book. And a note."
When Elina entered, sure enough, there it was. A leather-bound first edition of Pride and Prejudice and a note tucked between the pages.
"For the woman who reminds me of Elizabeth Bennet—brilliant, proud, and impossible to forget. —Aidan"
Elina stared.
He didn't just want to seduce her. He wanted to know her.
That scared her more than flowers ever could.
---
Later that evening, she found herself at a private lounge uptown. Quiet music. Low lighting. A rare moment to breathe.
"Drinking alone?" came a familiar voice.
She turned slowly. Aidan.
He didn't approach right away. Just watched her, waiting for permission.
"Coincidence?" she asked dryly.
"I heard you liked the wine list."
She rolled her eyes. "Stalker."
"Strategist," he corrected, finally taking the seat beside her. "You looked like you needed company."
"I don't need anything."
He studied her, gently. "But maybe you want something."
She sipped her wine, gaze drifting. "This isn't going to work, you know."
"Why not?"
"You and me. We're competition. Oil and water."
"Or fire and silk," he murmured.
She nearly laughed. "That's poetic. Still impractical."
"Tell me something," he leaned closer. "What scares you more? That this might not work—or that it might?"
She said nothing.
A beat passed. Then another.
Then she whispered, "I don't know how to be anything but in control."
Aidan touched her hand. "Then let's take it one choice at a time."
She didn't pull away.
---
The next morning, Elina found herself typing an email that surprised even her.
Subject: Dinner Invitation If you're serious about one choice at a time, meet me tomorrow at eight. La Maison. No boardroom talk. Just you and me. - Elina.
Her finger hovered over the send button.
And then she clicked.
The game had changed.
She was letting him in.
And the danger was, part of her wanted to.