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I brushed my fingers along her jaw. “Then have it.”
For once, she didn’t argue.
She just kissed me again.
It was hours later when I finally carried her to my car, exhaustion weighing on both of us. She curled into my side as I drove, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my palm.
When I pulled up to her building, I expected her to say goodnight.
Instead, she looked at me with an expression that made my blood heat all over again.
“Come upstairs,” she said softly.
I didn’t need to be asked twice.
The second the door closed behind us, she was in my arms again.
We barely made it to the bedroom before clothes were shed, before hands and lips replaced words.
And when it was over, when she lay tangled in my sheets, bare and beautiful, I knew?—
This wasn’t just business anymore.
It never had been.
V
The headline made her stomach turn.
AMÉLIE STUNS AT EXCLUSIVE EVENT—A NIGHT OF CULINARY PERFECTION.
V clenched her jaw as she scrolled through the article, each glowing paragraph only adding to the fury simmering beneath her skin.
Scarlett Lane delivers yet another flawless evening, proving why Amélie remains one of the most sought-after dining experiences in the city.
She didn’t just recover. She thrived.
V pressed a manicured nail against the desk, tapping in irritation.
She hadn’t thought Scarlett would be able to bounce back from the shipment cancellation so easily.
She had timed it perfectly—just close enough to the event to send Amélie into a downward spiral.
Yet, somehow, Scarlett had won.
No, not somehow.
Christian.
V’s lips curled in disgust. That was the only explanation.
He had stepped in and saved Scarlett like some knight in shining armor, reinforcing her delusions that she could play in the same league.
She inhaled slowly, exhaling through her nose. This wasn’t over.
Scarlett might have escaped this round, but V wasn’t finished with her.
She picked up her phone and dialed.