"Temptation doesn't always arrive with roses—it comes dressed in power and pressed suits."
It was a Monday.
But not the quiet, recovering kind.
The Velasco Building—the towering heart of Dominic's empire—buzzed with the kind of electricity that only came when sharks circled close.
Rumors whispered through glass elevators and sleek corridors.
A corporate raid.
A hostile acquisition.
And Lyra?
She walked into it like she owned the floor.
"Mrs. Velasco," murmured the receptionist, standing instantly. "Mr. Velasco is in the executive war room."
War room. How appropriate.
Lyra didn't slow.
She'd dressed for battle: high-waisted black slacks, a blood-red silk blouse, and heels that sounded like declarations of intent.
Two floors up, Dominic stood before a wall of monitors, surrounded by his top advisors.
They all paused when Lyra entered.
Not because she was unwelcome—but because everyone looked when a woman like her entered the room.
Dominic didn't glance back. He simply said, "Give us the room."
The men cleared out, murmuring as they passed her.
She stood beside him, arms folded.
"You summoned?"
Dominic handed her a file. "You're familiar with Navarro Holdings."
Her pulse spiked.
She opened it.
And there he was.
Adrian Navarro.
Again.
This time smiling smugly in a press photo dated last week.
Lyra skimmed the file.
A new partnership proposal.
Adrian had pitched a joint venture to one of Velasco International's subsidiaries—designed to weaken Dominic's control over one of his most profitable regional divisions.
Lyra exhaled slowly.
"He's baiting you," she said. "He wants you to react."
"I know."
"So why bring it to me?"
Dominic looked at her now, eyes darker than usual.
"Because you know how to beat him."
She stiffened.
"This isn't personal for me," she said. "It's business."
"Liar."
She met his gaze.
And for the first time, there was no smirk. No shield.
Just the ghost of something raw.
Dominic stepped closer.
"This isn't just about Adrian or corporate sabotage. He's not just threatening my company—he's circling you."
She raised her chin. "I can handle him."
"I know," he said. "But now, I want to handle it with you."
That silenced her.
Not because she didn't believe him—but because she did.
That night, Lyra joined Dominic in the private strategy suite in his home—a polished space with black marble floors, low lighting, and a central command table that tracked corporate movements in real time.
He'd ordered food. Thai. Casual. Uncharacteristic.
She raised a brow. "No chef-prepared salmon tonight?"
"I thought you might like spice."
She sat across from him, unboxing rice and curry. "Careful. That almost sounds like flirting."
He looked at her then, calm but charged.
"What if it is?"
Lyra paused.
And for once, she didn't deflect with sarcasm.
Instead, she took a bite and said, "Then maybe I won't report you to HR."
They worked side by side for hours.
Comparing financials.
Tracking Adrian's hidden investors.
Mapping the web.
And as they moved closer—shoulder brushing shoulder—something unspoken simmered just beneath the surface.
It wasn't love.
Not yet.
But it wasn't just business anymore either.
"You were right," Lyra said finally, voice softer. "I know how he thinks. He's not trying to win… he's trying to destroy."
Dominic nodded. "Then we don't just block him. We bleed him."
She turned to him, curiosity flickering. "You always go for blood?"
"Only when it's necessary."
"Or personal?"
His eyes locked with hers.
And in that moment, she knew.
It was personal now.
Not just because of Adrian.
But because of her.
Later, after the plan was set and silence returned, Lyra stood by the glass window of the lounge, arms folded.
Dominic approached.
"I had a meeting with your old university's board last week."
She looked over. "Why?"
"They're looking for new trustees. I thought you might be interested."
Her laugh was low. "You're trying to give me my past back."
"No," he said. "I'm trying to give you choices."
That struck her harder than she expected.
Dominic didn't pity her. He didn't coddle.
He empowered.
And it terrified her.
Because she was starting to want that.
Not the power.
Him.
"You think we're still pretending," she said suddenly. "That this marriage is just strategy."
His voice was barely audible. "Isn't it?"
She turned, facing him fully.
They stood inches apart.
"I think it stopped being pretend the moment you stopped asking questions and started giving me power."
Dominic's hand lifted.
Paused.
Then lowered again.
"I don't know what this is," he said. "But it's not pretend anymore."
Her breath hitched.
And she stepped even closer.
"What if I don't want rules anymore?"
He stared at her, eyes fierce and soft all at once.
"Then say the word."
She didn't.
Not yet.
But her silence wasn't rejection.
It was restraint.
Barely.
That night, Lyra didn't go back to the guest room.
And Dominic didn't stop her when she walked past him… straight into the master suite.
But they didn't touch.
Not yet.
Because real temptation?
Isn't just physical.
It's the knowing.
And now… they both knew.
They had redrawn the lines—and what lay between them now wasn't cold. It was fire… and it was waiting.