#Lila's POV – 10:49 PM#
Every move tonight had been intentional.
The slit of her dress, the blood-wine stain on her lips, the way her fingers brushed the stem of her glass. She wasn't here just to celebrate business wins—she was here to dominate the room without ever raising her voice.
And he was watching.
From above.
He hadn't spoken to her all evening. Not a word. But she felt him—felt Rowan Vale burning holes into her skin from across marble floors and iron balconies.
Good.
Let him sit in that silence.
Let him wonder if tonight was the night she'd unravel him.
And still, she did nothing.
Just small glances. Half-smiles. The way she let her dress dance when she turned to walk away.
Power, Lila had learned, wasn't in who reached first.
It was in who made the other reach.
---
#Later That Night – Lila's Hotel Suite#
She closed the suite door behind her, the echo swallowed by thick velvet walls. Piper was out—probably flirting with one of the Spanish partners. Lila didn't mind.
She needed space.
Pulling off her heels, she walked barefoot to the balcony, glass of wine in hand, the red reflecting her thoughts. The city lights shimmered below like a field of stars.
She let her head fall back against the night breeze.
Why do you haunt me, Rowan Vale?
She wasn't even sure when the game had become so... intimate.
It wasn't love. Not yet.
It was obsession's prelude.
A storm with no thunder.
Just static.
And heat.
She sighed, eyes falling closed. Somewhere in the room, his cologne still clung to her suitcase—leftover from brushing too close near the boardroom. It made her pulse quicken.
She whispered to herself, lips curving in dark amusement:
"Let's see how long you last, Mr. Vale."
Then she disappeared into the shadows of silk sheets and night.
---
#Rowan's POV – 12:12 AM#
The suite was quiet—too quiet.
Even the city lights outside couldn't fill the hollowness echoing through the penthouse. His blazer hung on the back of a leather chair. A half-drunk scotch sweated onto the marble table. The tie lay abandoned like something torn off in frustration.
He stood at the tall glass window, sleeves rolled, collar loosened. The lights of Barcelona—a city full of temptations—blurred like watercolor.
But none of it touched him.
Because she had.
Lila Penrose.
He could still see her—dripping in power, painted in desire, yet somehow untouchable. That dress. The way she walked like the floor owed her praise. She didn't look at him often tonight, but when she did…
It was war.
And he was losing.
His mind took him backward—not to the present—but to that first scent.
Weeks ago.
A hallway.
A ghost of perfume in the air.
He didn't see her then. But something in his blood knew.
That scent wrapped around him even now. Not hers, not exactly. But some echo of it. A trace left on a jacket she brushed past earlier today. He brought it to his face, breathing in.
It was her.
Not the cologne he wore.
Not the whiskey.
Not the room.
Her.
Soft, musky, feminine with something dangerous underneath—like flowers blooming over fire.
He cursed under his breath and poured the rest of the scotch down his throat. He needed sleep.
But he wasn't going to get it.
---
Location: Barcelona – Hotel Aria Palacio, Executive Conference Hall
Lila's POV
The morning came dressed in elegance.
Sunlight filtered through the embroidered curtains like soft gold. Lila Penrose adjusted the cuffs of her beige silk blouse beneath a maroon sleeveless vest tailored so clean it hugged her body like strategy. Her skirt was sleek, stopping just above her knees. Modest. Powerful.
But the stilettos were a statement—matte black with red soles. Silent war drums.
Her hair was tied in a soft knot, minimal jewelry, and her perfume—this time—was lighter. Floral. Teasing. A contrast to last night's haunting musk.
She met Piper at the elevator.
"Girl," Piper whispered, eyes trailing her outfit with a smirk. "You're going to kill him."
"I'm here for business," Lila replied, smiling faintly. "Death by heels is just a perk."
They entered the grand conference hall, where soft clinks of coffee cups and murmurs of high-profile strategy filled the space. Lila scanned the room, then settled in her seat without looking for him.
But she knew.
He was already watching.
---
Rowan's POV
Rowan Vale had read thousands of faces in boardrooms, but never one like hers.
When she walked in, something in the air shifted. She didn't even glance at him, yet every step announced she wasn't here to be ignored.
She sat beside Nico, who leaned over to whisper something—Rowan couldn't hear it, but he hated the way she laughed softly. Not because it was flirtatious, but because it wasn't his.
He forced himself to stay sharp, focus on the reason they were all there: closing a contract with VenturoCorp, a global sustainability tech firm headquartered in Valencia. The deal was worth over $2.3 billion, and Rowan needed nothing less than absolute control.
Yet here he was, letting his control waver because of a woman who hadn't said more than a few necessary words to him in weeks.
She didn't even wear the same scent today.
And somehow, that made it worse.
It meant she knew he was addicted.
And she was switching the poison.
---
Hours Later – After the Meeting
The deal was on the edge—delicate negotiations ahead. Rowan stood by the tall windows of the rooftop lounge, watching the sun begin to dip.
And then, she walked by him—on purpose.
A whisper of floral notes.
A quick glance.
And a smirk.
Not a word.
She was winning.
And he was letting her.
---
Barcelona – Hotel Aria Palacio, Executive Conference Hall
The polished table gleamed beneath soft chandeliers. Executives from VenturoCorp sat poised, their expressions unreadable, their translators and legal reps listening closely.
Lila Penrose, however, did not waver.
She stood with poise and delivered her pitch—direct, eloquent, surgical in its persuasion.
"Our company doesn't just offer financial strength," she said, her tone even and commanding. "We offer sustainability backed by proven results, market foresight, and a genuine commitment to legacy. Partnering with us isn't a transaction—it's a transformation."
Her aqua-blue eyes scanned the room. No nerves. No hesitation.
"VenturoCorp is the future. So are we."
She ended with a graceful nod, returning to her seat beside Piper. A soft murmur of impressed nods followed from the clients.
---
Rowan's POV
He shouldn't have been looking at her lips.
Not in this setting. Not here. Not now.
But the way she spoke—God, she wielded words like she'd sharpened them on silk and steel. The curve of her mouth as she emphasized transformation, the flicker of her eyes when she dropped her closing statement…
Rowan exhaled slowly, gripping the Montblanc pen in his hand like it was anchoring him.
All the sharp focus he'd stored for this billion-dollar negotiation had shattered. And the shards glittered around her like a crown.
He turned slightly, catching Nico smirking without looking up from his tablet.
Rowan didn't acknowledge it. Didn't breathe.
Lila sat like nothing had happened. Like she hadn't just turned him into an addict for the second time that day.
When the meeting ended, and VenturoCorp's lead negotiator smiled in approval, Rowan nodded—but all he could think was:
I need to taste the words right out of her mouth.
---
Rowan's POV – Later That Afternoon, Private Balcony of the Presidential Suite
Rowan stood with one hand gripping the stone railing, the other around a glass of neat bourbon.
Below him, Barcelona glowed in soft golden hour hues. The sea in the distance shimmered like molten glass, and the voices of the world floated upward—laughs, chatter, footsteps. But nothing could distract him from what had just unfolded hours ago.
He wasn't a man easily shaken.
He'd built his empire on logic, precision, and absolute control. Business was about leverage, numbers, and trust—not lips, perfumes, or the curve of a woman's smirk.
But she had spoken like fire wrapped in velvet.
And she didn't even look at him when she did it.
That, somehow, was worse.
Rowan set the glass down, loosening his collar with one hand. He stared at his reflection in the tall sliding glass door—every inch of him still composed. But inside, a storm surged. One with a name.
Lila Penrose.
He'd hired her for her mind, he reminded himself. Her credentials, her potential, her insight. But what he hadn't anticipated—what he hated admitting—was that her presence had become a haunting echo in his every thought.
Every perfume change. Every glance. Every silence.
Calculated.
Commanding.
She was playing chess.
And he wasn't sure anymore if he was her opponent or her pawn.
"Get it together," he muttered under his breath, jaw tight.
His phone buzzed—Nico's text:
"Dinner in an hour. Wear your armor. The Queen's bringing heat."
Rowan didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
He was already burning.
---
Barcelona – Aria Palacio Hotel, Grand Ballroom
The dinner was nothing short of cinematic.
Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen rain above a sea of navy, gold, and candlelight. The long mahogany table stretched under rows of crystal glasses and delicate china, surrounded by the best minds in international business—yet none of it rivaled the entrance of Lila Penrose.
She wore maroon like sin dressed in silk.
The gown was a second skin—high slit, low back, the neckline dipping just enough to hint, not shout. Her hair was up, soft strands teasing her jawline, and her perfume floated ahead of her like an invisible crown.
She didn't look at Rowan as she walked past him to her seat two chairs down.
But her presence burned across his vision.
Rowan, in a classic black tux, looked like he'd been carved out of shadow and control. No smile. No falter. But his hand around his wine glass tightened ever so slightly as he caught the shimmer of her skin under the chandelier.
Conversation flowed. To the untrained eye, everything looked formal, composed—flawlessly professional. But beneath the pleasantries and toasts, something darker simmered.
She laughed at something one of the clients said.
And his jaw tensed.
She leaned slightly to whisper to Piper, exposing the soft slope of her neck.
And he looked away—only to catch Nico's teasing smirk from across the table.
Nico raised his glass and mouthed, "Your move."
Lila finally flicked her eyes toward Rowan. Just once.
No smile. No expression.
Just a glance.
A blade.
He met her gaze. Unflinching. Controlled.
But under the table, his hand curled into a fist on his thigh.
Every bone in his body screamed to lose control.
But he wouldn't. Not yet.
Because if she was playing a game—he was finally ready to play too.
---
The evening stretched on in a blur of laughter, elegant clinking of glasses, and soft, smooth jazz playing in the background. But for Rowan, the dinner had become an unspoken duel. Each course brought Lila closer to him, though she never once came near his side of the table. Her aura was magnetic, and with every sip of wine, every flutter of her lashes, it tugged at him.
Nico—always one to make a spectacle of things—was seated across from Lila. His eyes, as usual, flirted with her. Every now and then, he'd drop an exaggerated comment that earned a soft chuckle from her, the sound of it like silk rubbing against his nerves.
Rowan kept his focus sharp, but it was impossible not to steal glances when she shifted in her seat, the way her gown clung to her curves, the slow rise and fall of her chest with every breath.
Lila wasn't even trying to hide it anymore. She was fully aware of the game they were playing. And Rowan was certain—she was winning.
---
Lila's POV
Lila Penrose had always known how to command a room. It was in her blood, her movements, her very essence.
But tonight? Tonight, she was playing with fire. Rowan Vale's fire.
She had deliberately placed herself across from him—just far enough to make every subtle shift in her posture feel like a challenge, but close enough that she could feel the pull of his attention without it being obvious.
And oh, she could feel it. His eyes were always there, watching. Too intense. Too focused. She could practically hear the thoughts racing behind that rigid facade.
And she thrived on it.
Her smile was a little sharper now, a little more dangerous as she toyed with her wine glass, swirling the contents like it held the secret to unlocking him. Her fingers, delicate yet strong, gripped the stem with ease, as her thoughts lingered on the playful game she had started.
Nico leaned toward her, his voice dropping low. "You know, Rowan's been eyeing you all night." His grin was full of mischief.
Lila didn't even blink. She merely took another sip of her wine, her lips curling into a faint, almost teasing smile. "Maybe he just doesn't know how to look away."
Nico's grin deepened, but he remained quiet, sensing the shift in the air. He was clever enough to know when to let her play her cards and when to stay out of her way.
As the evening stretched on, Lila's mind danced in the space between conquest and control. She was playing the role of the seductress with the precision of a seasoned performer. Rowan might be trying to remain unfazed, but the telltale flicker in his eyes, the rigid stance, and the brief glances he cast her way told her everything.
She had him. She could feel it.
---
Rowan's POV
He couldn't stop staring at her.
Lila. Her presence was suffocating, in the best way. Every shift in her chair, every movement of her hand as she adjusted her hair—it was like she knew exactly how to disrupt his concentration.
Nico was whispering something to her—Rowan wasn't sure what—but he could tell it was making her smile in that way that made his pulse race. It wasn't a smile of genuine amusement—it was a smile of power. Of knowing. Of ownership.
And he was the target.
Rowan tried to focus, listening to the talk of investments and expansions, trying to block out the fact that his entire body was locked in a quiet battle with himself. He couldn't let this—whatever it was between him and Lila—control him.
But then she glanced at him again. Just for a second. Her eyes held him captive, and for that instant, the whole world dropped away.
He clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around his glass. He was a man of control, but she was unraveling him. Slowly. Deliberately.
His thoughts flickered to the memory of her body in the red gown from earlier—the way her eyes had held his as she walked away from him at the cocktail party. The way she hadn't acknowledged his presence, but had known he was watching.
And then, he felt it—an unmistakable surge of lust. Desire. He wanted to be closer to her. He wanted to feel that power shift from her to him. He wanted her to feel the weight of his attention the way he had been feeling hers.
---
Lila's POV
As the final course was cleared, Lila knew the evening was nearing its end. But she wasn't ready to let the tension slip away.
She turned to Nico, keeping her voice low as she leaned closer. "I think it's time for me to go for a walk. You know, I need some air."
Nico raised an eyebrow, but nodded, sensing exactly what she was doing. He glanced at Rowan before returning his gaze to Lila. "Sure. I'll come with you."
Lila shook her head. "No. I think I need this alone." She stood slowly, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her gown.
As she walked past Rowan, she could feel him watching her, that heavy weight of his attention suffocating yet thrilling. She didn't look at him—she didn't need to. But she did let her hips sway just a little more, just enough to tease him into following her.
She didn't know where this game would lead. But she would play it until the very end.
---