Julian Knight's POV
The conference room feels like a cage, the air still charged with Scarlett's presence long after she's gone. Her crimson dress, clinging to every curve,her full breasts, the sway of her hips, that perfect ass burns in my mind, a taunt I can't shake. She played me tonight, strutting in like a weapon forged in fire, her every move designed to unravel me. And damn it, it worked.
My hands still itch to touch her, to trace the lines of that dress, to see if her skin's as hot as her defiance. I'm Julian Knight, master of control, but Scarlett Valenti's got me spinning, and I hate how much I like it.
I lean back in my chair, the city's skyline mocking me through the glass walls of KnightTech's headquarters.
The waterfront project files are spread before me, but they're just noise,Scarlett's the signal, her voice echoing in my head:
"I like you pushed, Julian. Makes you almost human."
That wicked smile, the way she leaned close, her perfume wrapping around me like a noose. I wanted to grab her, pull her against me, show her exactly what happens when she pushes too far. Instead, I let her walk away, her hips swaying like a challenge I'm dying to answer.
My phone buzzes, snapping me out of it. A text from Ethan: Checked on Red. She's fine, but you're in deep, man. I clench my jaw, irritation flaring. Ethan, always playing the hero, his soft spot for Scarlett as obvious as the skyline. He's my best friend, but the way he looks at her like she's his to protect sets my teeth on edge. She's not his. She's… not mine either, but the thought of her with him twists something dark in my chest.
I shove the phone aside and pull up the tech specs Scarlett demanded, but my mind's elsewhere. Singapore. The word's a shadow, creeping up from a past I've buried deep. Those offshore accounts, the deal that went south it wasn't my fault, but it's my name on the line. If Scarlett's digging, if someone's feeding her intel, it could ruin everything.
The waterfront deal, my reputation, her. I can't let that happen, but the way she looked tonight—fire and steel, curves that could bring a man to his knees makes me wonder if I'm fighting the wrong battle.
A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. "Come in," I call, expecting a late-night assistant. Instead, it's Veronica Steele, her blonde hair sleek, her black dress as calculated as Scarlett's but colder, predatory. She's been circling this deal like a vulture, and I don't trust her smile.
"Julian," she purrs, stepping inside, her heels clicking like a countdown. "Working late? Or still recovering from Scarlett's little show?"
I lean back, my expression cool, though her jab lands. "What do you want, Veronica? I'm not in the mood for games."
She laughs, low and sharp, perching on the edge of the table, her dress riding up to reveal a long leg. It's a move meant to distract, but it's nothing compared to Scarlett's fire.
"Oh, come on," she says, her eyes glinting. "I saw the way you looked at her. Everyone did. But you should know she's asking questions. About Singapore."
My blood runs cold, but I keep my face impassive. "She's thorough. It's her job."
Veronica leans closer, her voice dropping. "Thorough enough to find out about the accounts? Or the investor you paid off to keep quiet?"
I stand, towering over her, my voice low and dangerous. "Careful, Veronica. You're treading on thin ice."
She doesn't flinch, her smile sharpening. "Just a friendly warning, Julian. Scarlett's not the type to let secrets slide. If you want to keep her on your side, you'd better come clean. Or I might."
She saunters out, leaving her threat hanging in the air. I sink back into my chair, my mind racing. Singapore's a ghost I thought I'd buried, but it's clawing its way back. If Scarlett finds out before I can explain, it'll destroy the trust we're barely building. And trust isn't the only thing I want from her. Those curves, that sharp tongue, the way she pushed me tonight I want all of it, and it's clouding my judgment.
I grab my phone, pulling up Scarlett's number. I shouldn't text her, not after she left me reeling, but my fingers move anyway. Specs sent. You played dirty tonight, Scarlett. My turn next. I hit send before I can rethink it, my pulse kicking up at the thought of her reading it, that wicked smile flashing across her face.
The city glitters outside, a reminder of the stakes—my empire, her legacy, the deal that binds us. Scarlett's a fire I can't control, her body a weapon she wields with precision. But I'm not backing down. Tomorrow, I'll face her again, and I'll match her move for move. She thinks she's got the upper hand, but I'm Julian Knight, and I play to win even if it means risking everything for a taste of her.