The city was still waking when Amber Gareth stepped out onto the balcony of her penthouse, the glass doors sliding shut behind her with a soft click. Below, Lagos moved with its usual impatience—horns blaring, engines growling, people already late for things that mattered too much. She wrapped her silk robe tighter around herself, not because of the morning breeze but because her thoughts refused to stay still.
Sleep had abandoned her hours ago.
Alexander Wilson.
His name had a way of intruding where it was not invited, settling in her chest like an unfinished sentence. Their last encounter replayed in fragments—his measured voice, the intensity of his gaze, the way the air between them had shifted from hostility to something dangerously close to heat. Amber prided herself on control. Yet around him, control felt negotiable.
Inside, her phone buzzed on the marble counter.
Camila.
Amber exhaled, already anticipating the lecture. She walked back in, picked up the call, and leaned against the counter.
"Good morning to you too," Camila said pointedly.
"Is it morning already?" Amber replied dryly.
"You didn't come home last night."
"I'm an adult."
"You're also my sister, and you disappear when things start getting complicated."
Amber closed her eyes. "Nothing happened."
"That's not what I asked," Camila said softly.
Silence stretched between them, filled only by Amber's breathing.
"He unsettles me," Amber finally said. "And I don't like that."
Camila sighed. "Alex Wilson unsettles everyone. The difference is that most people don't pretend they're immune."
Amber ended the call without another word. Some conversations were better unfinished.
At Wilson Group Headquarters, Alexander stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up. The city looked different from this height—smaller, conquerable. He preferred it that way.
"Sir," his assistant, Jonah, said cautiously, "the Gareth Consortium confirmed attendance for the charity gala tonight."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "Who's representing them?"
Jonah hesitated. "Amber Gareth."
Of course.
"Prepare the documents," Alexander said. "And cancel my evening appointments."
Jonah nodded, already used to his moods. As he left, Alexander leaned his palms against the glass.
Amber Gareth was not part of the plan. She was not supposed to be anything more than a business complication—a woman with too much power and too sharp a tongue. Yet lately, she occupied a dangerous amount of space in his thoughts.
And he hated that.
The gala was held at a restored colonial mansion overlooking the lagoon, all chandeliers and polished marble. The elite of the city gathered in designer wear and rehearsed smiles, conversations layered with hidden agendas.
Amber arrived fashionably late.
She wore a deep wine-colored gown that clung without trying too hard, her hair swept back to expose her neck. Conversations faltered as she passed, heads turning instinctively. She was used to the attention, indifferent to it—until she felt it.
Alexander's gaze.
It was unmistakable, cutting through the room with unnerving precision. Their eyes met, and for a moment the noise faded. No smiles. No pleasantries. Just recognition.
Amber broke the stare first, lifting her chin as she approached the registration desk.
Alexander watched her from across the room, aware of every step she took. When she finally stood beside him at the sponsors' table, neither pretended surprise.
"Miss Gareth," he said coolly.
"Mr. Wilson," she replied. "I see intimidation is still your favorite accessory."
He leaned closer, his voice low. "You walked in knowing exactly what you were doing."
She smiled without warmth. "And you noticed. That sounds like a you problem."
A board member interrupted them, dragging Alexander into conversation. Amber moved away, but the tension followed her like a shadow.
Later, after speeches and forced laughter, Amber slipped out onto the terrace for air. The lagoon reflected the lights like broken stars. She inhaled deeply, letting the quiet wrap around her.
"You run away when things get uncomfortable," Alexander said behind her.
She didn't turn. "I take strategic pauses."
"From me?"
That made her face him.
"What do you want, Alex?"
He studied her, really studied her, as though she were a puzzle he both resented and wanted to solve. "I want to understand why you look at me like I'm a threat."
"Because you are," she said simply. "Not to my company. To my peace."
The honesty surprised them both.
The silence shifted, heavy, charged. Alexander stepped closer, close enough that she could smell his cologne, subtle and expensive.
"You don't hate me," he said quietly.
Amber's pulse betrayed her. "Hate would be easier."
For a moment, it seemed as though he might touch her. The world narrowed to the space between them, breath and anticipation tangling.
Then footsteps approached, laughter spilling onto the terrace. The moment shattered.
Amber stepped back first. "This was a mistake."
"Yes," Alexander agreed, though his eyes said otherwise.
She walked away without looking back.
Across town, at the Gareth mansion, Sophie Gareth sat in her private lounge with Elsa Wilson, tea forgotten between them. Years of friendship had given way to a shared purpose tonight.
"They're circling each other," Elsa said thoughtfully. "You can feel it."
Sophie smiled. "Amber fights what she wants most."
"And Alex refuses what he needs," Elsa replied. "Which makes this dangerous."
"Or inevitable."
Elsa's eyes gleamed. "We should be careful. If this goes wrong—"
"It won't," Sophie interrupted. "Because love always finds the cracks."
That night, alone in their separate worlds, Amber and Alexander lay awake with the same thought echoing through their minds.
This was no longer just business.
And whatever was unfolding between them would not be gentle.