Chapter 6 – The Rival's Shadow
Erica told herself that what happened in Dylan's office had to stay there — sealed, unspoken, buried like a secret that could never see daylight. But secrets had a way of breathing on their own, of lingering in the spaces between two people who pretended nothing happened.
By Monday morning, the rumor mill was alive again. People had noticed Dylan's sudden mood shifts, his colder tone during meetings, his sharpness with the staff. They whispered that something had changed between him and the marketing director — though no one dared to say it aloud.
Erica ignored the stares and focused on her work, hiding behind her professionalism like armor. But even the strongest armor cracks under pressure.
Her phone buzzed that afternoon.
A message.
From Adrian Vale.
Dinner. Strictly business. 7 PM. Aurelia's. I insist.
Erica stared at the screen for a moment, her instinct screaming no, but logic whispering yes. He was an investor now, technically her superior in some ways. Refusing him twice might look unprofessional.
She typed slowly:
Alright. One hour. Strictly business.
The reply came instantly.
Wouldn't dream otherwise.
She sighed, slipping the phone into her bag. But what she didn't notice was Dylan standing outside her office door, having caught the last few words. His eyes darkened, though his expression didn't change.
Aurelia's was one of those restaurants meant to impress — candlelight, low music, a view of the city that sparkled like temptation itself. Adrian arrived precisely on time, confidence radiating off him like a tailored suit.
"Erica," he greeted, pulling out her chair with a smile that belonged on magazine covers. "You look stunning."
She gave him a polite smile. "You look like someone who rehearses compliments."
He chuckled. "Only when they're true."
As the evening went on, their conversation was light — business mixed with a touch of charm. Adrian had that rare talent of making every word sound like a compliment and every compliment sound like strategy.
He talked about expanding Cross Industries into European markets, about partnership, growth, opportunity. But beneath his easy tone, Erica could sense something else — calculation.
"You're not like the others," he said, swirling his wine. "You don't flinch when someone tries to outsmart you."
"Maybe I've been outsmarted enough to recognize it," she said dryly.
His smile widened. "Touché."
The waiter poured another glass. The music softened. And somewhere between laughter and silence, Erica realized she hadn't thought about Dylan for almost ten minutes. That alone made her uneasy.
Adrian leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Erica… what does Dylan Cross have that I don't?"
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." He leaned back, still smiling, but his tone sharpened. "Everyone in this building looks at him like he's untouchable. Including you."
Her heart stumbled. "This isn't appropriate, Adrian."
"I'm just curious," he said smoothly. "You're brilliant, beautiful, confident — the kind of woman most men wouldn't know how to handle. And yet…" His gaze lingered, deliberate. "You still look at him like he's the one who got away."
Erica pushed back her chair, trying to steady her breathing. "I think we've talked enough."
He didn't stop her. He only said, "You'll see it soon, Erica. Dylan doesn't protect people for free. There's always a price."
By the time she got home, the city lights felt too bright, the air too heavy. She tried to convince herself Adrian was just provoking her — but his words echoed in her head like a warning.
And when her phone rang, the caller ID made her chest tighten.
Dylan.
She hesitated, then answered.
"Where were you?" His voice was calm, too calm.
"Out. Dinner with Adrian."
A pause. A long one. "You didn't have to go."
"I didn't want to, but I couldn't refuse him again," she said. "It was business."
"Business," he repeated slowly. "Right."
"Don't do that," she snapped. "Don't make it sound like something it's not."
"I'm not," he said softly. "But I can't pretend I like the thought of him near you."
Something in his voice broke her resolve — that rare hint of vulnerability, buried beneath the steel.
"Why does it bother you so much, Dylan?" she asked quietly. "You said you wouldn't chase me anymore."
He exhaled, and for a moment, silence filled the space between them. "Because I can't stop caring, Erica. And that's the problem."
Her throat tightened. "You don't get to say that."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" he asked, frustration seeping into his tone. "Pretend I don't see him trying to replace me?"
She didn't answer. Because the truth — the one she refused to face — was that Dylan Cross still had the power to ruin her peace with just his voice.
That night, Erica didn't sleep.
And somewhere in the city, Dylan didn't either.
The week that followed was a test of endurance.
Adrian Vale wasn't just an investor—he was an earthquake. He moved through the company like he owned it, questioning old systems, pushing new projects, and making sure everyone knew that his name now mattered as much as Dylan's.
At first, Erica tried to stay neutral. She did her job, presented her work, and kept her tone polite but distant. But neutrality was hard when Adrian's eyes lingered too long during meetings, or when Dylan's silence grew heavier each day.
By Wednesday, the tension had started to show.
"Erica, I want your department to collaborate directly with mine," Adrian said in front of the executive team. "You've proven you can think beyond the standard campaigns. I want that mindset driving our new project."
Dylan's expression didn't flicker, but the air in the room shifted.
"That won't be necessary," Dylan said evenly. "Erica's workload is already full. She'll remain focused on our current objectives."
"With all due respect," Adrian replied, his smile polite but sharp, "your objectives could use a fresh direction."
A few people glanced between them, sensing the quiet storm. Erica sat still, torn between the two men's gazes, silently wishing the floor would open beneath her chair.
Finally, she spoke. "I can manage both, if that helps," she offered carefully. "At least temporarily."
Dylan's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Fine. Temporarily."
The meeting ended soon after, but the atmosphere didn't clear.
When Erica stepped into the hallway, Dylan was already waiting for her.
"Why did you agree to that?" he asked quietly.
"Because it's my job," she said, keeping her voice low. "I can't ignore an investor's request, Dylan. You know that."
"He's using you," Dylan said, eyes narrowing. "He's trying to pull you away from me— from this team."
"You mean from you," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
He blinked, caught off guard. Then, softer, "Maybe."
She sighed. "Dylan, you can't control every move I make."
"I'm not trying to control you," he said. "I'm trying to protect you."
"From what? A dinner invitation? A project offer?" She shook her head. "You can't keep deciding what's best for me."
"Erica—"
"Please," she cut in. "Don't make this harder."
He didn't answer. His eyes said everything—anger, worry, and something deeper that hurt to look at. She turned before he could speak again and walked away, heart pounding.
That night, Adrian called again.
"Late hour, I know," he said through the phone, his tone smooth. "But I wanted to thank you. The board loved your presentation."
"Thank you," she said politely.
"You've got something rare, Erica. Vision and restraint. I could use more people like you around me."
She smiled faintly. "That's kind of you."
"Not kindness," he replied. "Truth."
There was a pause before he added, "You know, Cross doesn't appreciate what he has. Men like him only see what they own once they've lost it."
"Goodnight, Adrian," she said softly and ended the call.
But the words followed her.
She didn't know why, but they did.
The next morning, she arrived early—only to find Dylan already in his office, staring out the window. His jacket hung over his chair, his sleeves rolled up. The city light caught the edges of his profile, turning him into something almost unreachably distant.
"You're here early," she said, setting her files down.
"So are you," he replied, his voice low. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Something like that."
He turned toward her then, eyes tired but intense. "Erica, I need you to be careful. Adrian isn't what he seems."
"I can take care of myself," she said, softer this time.
"I know you can," he said, stepping closer. "That's what scares me. You don't let anyone protect you—not even when you need it."
She looked up at him, her pulse unsteady. "And you? Who protects you, Dylan?"
For the first time, he smiled—but it was faint, almost sad. "I stopped needing that a long time ago."
Something shifted in that moment—something quiet but deep.
He wasn't her boss, or her ex, or the man she tried to forget.
He was just Dylan, tired and human, and she hated how much she still cared.
As she left his office, her phone buzzed.
A message.
From an unknown number.
If you want to know who Dylan really is, check your email.
Her heart froze.
She opened her inbox—and there it was.
A file. Unmarked. Untraceable.
Inside, a single line:
He's hiding something from you. Ask about Project Arcturus.
Her hands trembled as she stared at the screen. The world seemed to tilt.
Because for the first time, she realized Adrian Vale hadn't just come for business.
He'd come for war.
To be continued.....