Lily paced her penthouse that evening, the photograph still clutched in her hand, her mind a chaotic swirl of anger, intrigue, and something far more dangerous. She had built her entire life on control—mastering her image, her business, her desires. But Ethan had shattered that in a single night.
She dropped onto her leather couch, the city skyline stretching before her like a battlefield. Her phone buzzed on the glass coffee table. She snatched it up, half expecting another taunting message from Ethan. But it was Naomi.
"Hey, boss," her assistant's voice crackled through the line, a mix of nerves and admiration. "Just wanted to remind you about the Marcelli event tomorrow. Everything's on schedule, but they're pushing for a VIP guest list by morning."
"I'll handle it," Lily replied, her tone sharper than she intended. "Anything else?"
Naomi hesitated. "Actually, yeah. I… I heard a rumor. About Ethan Vale."
Lily's pulse quickened. She leaned forward, fingers tightening around her phone. "What kind of rumor?"
"That he's… dangerous."
Lily's lips curled into a bitter smile. "Aren't all powerful men?"
"No, I mean really dangerous. I heard he had a business partner disappear a few years ago. Just… vanished. And there were whispers that Ethan was involved."
Lily's blood ran cold. She forced a laugh. "You've been watching too many crime dramas, Naomi."
"Maybe," Naomi said, but her tone remained cautious. "Just… be careful, okay?"
"I can handle myself," Lily snapped, ending the call before Naomi could protest.
She tossed her phone onto the couch and stood, her pulse hammering in her ears. She didn't believe in rumors. She believed in facts. And the fact was, Ethan Vale was a man who thrived on power and control.
But so was she.
---
The clock struck midnight as Lily stepped out of her black town car, her heels slicing against the wet pavement outside The Glass Room. The night air was sharp, tinged with rain, the city's neon lights reflecting off the puddles like broken glass.
She had chosen her armor carefully—black silk dress, cut just above the knee, high heels that made her legs look impossibly long, and a blood-red lipstick that whispered of danger. If Ethan wanted to play, she would make damn sure he knew the stakes.
A bouncer in a crisp black suit nodded at her, pulling back the velvet rope. She stepped inside, the bass-heavy music vibrating through her bones, the dim lights casting shadows that felt too intimate, too revealing.
She found him in the VIP section, leaning against the bar with a glass of whiskey in hand, his eyes locked on her the moment she entered. He straightened, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his lips as she approached.
"You came," he said, his voice a low, dangerous purr.
She tilted her head, matching his predatory gaze. "You gave me no choice."
"Everyone has a choice, Lily," he replied, stepping closer, his breath warm against her cheek. "But not everyone has the courage to take it."
She swallowed, her pulse betraying her. She hated that. Hated how he got under her skin, made her heart race, made her feel things she had sworn off years ago.
"Cut the games, Ethan," she said, her voice icy. "What do you want?"
He set his glass down, his fingers brushing hers as he took her hand, pulling her closer until their bodies were mere inches apart.
"I want to see how far you're willing to fall."
Her breath hitched. She should pull away. She should slap him. She should do anything but stand there, her heart hammering in her chest, her body leaning into his like a magnet.
Instead, she met his gaze, her chin tilting defiantly. "I don't fall, Ethan. I make others fall."
His eyes darkened, a flicker of something dangerous flashing behind them. Desire. Obsession. Maybe even fear.
"Then prove it," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear. "Take a risk. Break your own rules."
Before she could overthink it, before she could remind herself of all the reasons this was a mistake, she closed the gap between them, her lips crashing against his, her hands fisting in his expensive suit. She felt his sharp intake of breath, the way his body tensed, then relaxed into hers, his hands sliding to her waist, pulling her closer, deeper.
The world blurred. Time stretched. She tasted whiskey and danger, felt the heat of his body against hers, the roughness of his stubble against her skin. It was a kiss that burned, that shattered, that promised destruction.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, both shaken, he looked down at her, his lips curved into a dark, victorious smile.
"I knew you had it in you," he whispered, his thumb brushing her jaw, his eyes locked on hers. "Now, let's see if you can handle the consequences."
And for the first time in years, Lily Summers felt truly alive.