Amber did not sleep.
She lay awake in the vast quiet of her room, the city's distant hum filtering through the glass walls, her thoughts circling the same dangerous name. Alex Wilson. Every word he had spoken replayed in her mind, every look charged with meaning she refused to name aloud. She had faced hostile takeovers, public scandals, and ruthless competitors without flinching—but this was different. This was personal.
By morning, the headlines had shifted again. The scandal had evolved, reshaped by speculation and half-truths. Anonymous sources hinted at a power struggle between Gareth Accessories and Wilson Corporation. Some claimed rivalry. Others whispered of something far more intimate. Amber read every article with a cold, practiced calm, but inside, irritation simmered.
At breakfast, Camila watched her closely.
"You're unusually quiet," she said.
Amber set her tablet down. "The press is circling like vultures. And Alex is letting them."
Camila raised a brow. "Or maybe he's distracting them. Alex Wilson doesn't do anything without intent."
"That's exactly the problem."
By midday, Amber was back at the office, commanding the room with the effortless authority her staff had come to rely on. Meetings stacked back-to-back, investors dialed in from overseas, and legal counsel hovered close. She was in control again—or at least she looked like it.
Then her assistant leaned in and spoke quietly.
"Miss Gareth… Mr. Wilson is here."
Amber didn't look up. "He doesn't have an appointment."
"He said… you'd make time."
Silence stretched. Then Amber stood.
"Send him in."
Alex entered like he owned the space, his presence shifting the air instantly. He wore calm like a second skin, eyes sharp, unreadable.
"You look busy," he said mildly.
"You look uninvited."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Still, here I am."
Amber gestured to the chair opposite her desk. "Speak."
Alex didn't sit. He stepped closer instead, lowering his voice.
"The board is pressuring me. They want distance between our companies. Between us."
"And?" Amber challenged.
"And I don't like being told what to do."
She met his gaze steadily. "Neither do I."
The silence between them was heavy, charged. Alex's eyes flicked briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.
"This situation," he said slowly, "is escalating. If we don't get ahead of it, someone else will define it for us."
Amber leaned back. "So this is damage control?"
"Partly." He paused. "Partly… honesty."
That word landed harder than she expected.
Later that evening, the city hosted a private charity gala—an unmissable event for people of their stature. Amber arrived in understated elegance, aware of every camera, every curious glance. Camila stayed close, but Amber's attention shifted the moment she sensed him.
Alex stood across the room, dressed in black, watching her like she was the only person there. When their eyes met, the world narrowed.
They didn't speak immediately. They didn't have to.
It was Alex who finally approached.
"Careful," he murmured. "People are watching."
Amber's smile was razor-sharp. "Let them."
They danced around each other all evening—brief conversations, shared glances, proximity without touch. The tension grew unbearable, coiling tight beneath polished smiles and polite laughter.
When Amber finally stepped onto the balcony for air, Alex followed.
"You're doing this on purpose," she said without turning.
"Yes," he admitted easily. "So are you."
She faced him then. The city lights framed him in gold and shadow.
"This ends tonight," Amber said. "One way or another."
Alex stepped closer. "Then don't run."
Her breath caught. For the first time, she didn't step back.
"This isn't about control anymore," she said quietly.
"No," he agreed. "It hasn't been for a while."
The space between them vanished. His hand hovered near her waist, not touching, waiting. Asking without words. Amber's pulse thundered. She should stop this. She knew she should.
But she didn't.
She closed the distance instead.
The kiss was slow at first—measured, testing—but it didn't stay that way. Weeks of restraint unraveled in a heartbeat. Heat surged, fingers finally gripping fabric, breath stuttering. The world disappeared.
Amber pulled back first, her forehead resting against his chest.
"This changes everything," she said.
Alex's voice was rough. "It already has."
Later, alone again, Amber stared out at the city. Her reflection looked different—less guarded, more alive. The scandal, the pressure, the danger—it was all still there. But now, something else had joined it.
Desire.
And for the first time in a very long while, Amber Gareth wasn't sure which would cost her more: surrendering… or resisting.
Amber did not sleep.
She lay awake in the vast quiet of her room, the city's distant hum filtering through the glass walls, her thoughts circling the same dangerous name. Alex Wilson. Every word he had spoken replayed in her mind, every look charged with meaning she refused to name aloud. She had faced hostile takeovers, public scandals, and ruthless competitors without flinching—but this was different. This was personal.
By morning, the headlines had shifted again. The scandal had evolved, reshaped by speculation and half-truths. Anonymous sources hinted at a power struggle between Gareth Accessories and Wilson Corporation. Some claimed rivalry. Others whispered of something far more intimate. Amber read every article with a cold, practiced calm, but inside, irritation simmered.
At breakfast, Camila watched her closely.
"You're unusually quiet," she said.
Amber set her tablet down. "The press is circling like vultures. And Alex is letting them."
Camila raised a brow. "Or maybe he's distracting them. Alex Wilson doesn't do anything without intent."
"That's exactly the problem."
By midday, Amber was back at the office, commanding the room with the effortless authority her staff had come to rely on. Meetings stacked back-to-back, investors dialed in from overseas, and legal counsel hovered close. She was in control again—or at least she looked like it.
Then her assistant leaned in and spoke quietly.
"Miss Gareth… Mr. Wilson is here."
Amber didn't look up. "He doesn't have an appointment."
"He said… you'd make time."
Silence stretched. Then Amber stood.
"Send him in."
Alex entered like he owned the space, his presence shifting the air instantly. He wore calm like a second skin, eyes sharp, unreadable.
"You look busy," he said mildly.
"You look uninvited."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Still, here I am."
Amber gestured to the chair opposite her desk. "Speak."
Alex didn't sit. He stepped closer instead, lowering his voice.
"The board is pressuring me. They want distance between our companies. Between us."
"And?" Amber challenged.
"And I don't like being told what to do."
She met his gaze steadily. "Neither do I."
The silence between them was heavy, charged. Alex's eyes flicked briefly to her lips before returning to her eyes.
"This situation," he said slowly, "is escalating. If we don't get ahead of it, someone else will define it for us."
Amber leaned back. "So this is damage control?"
"Partly." He paused. "Partly… honesty."
That word landed harder than she expected.
Later that evening, the city hosted a private charity gala—an unmissable event for people of their stature. Amber arrived in understated elegance, aware of every camera, every curious glance. Camila stayed close, but Amber's attention shifted the moment she sensed him.
Alex stood across the room, dressed in black, watching her like she was the only person there. When their eyes met, the world narrowed.
They didn't speak immediately. They didn't have to.
It was Alex who finally approached.
"Careful," he murmured. "People are watching."
Amber's smile was razor-sharp. "Let them."
They danced around each other all evening—brief conversations, shared glances, proximity without touch. The tension grew unbearable, coiling tight beneath polished smiles and polite laughter.
When Amber finally stepped onto the balcony for air, Alex followed.
"You're doing this on purpose," she said without turning.
"Yes," he admitted easily. "So are you."
She faced him then. The city lights framed him in gold and shadow.
"This ends tonight," Amber said. "One way or another."
Alex stepped closer. "Then don't run."
Her breath caught. For the first time, she didn't step back.
"This isn't about control anymore," she said quietly.
"No," he agreed. "It hasn't been for a while."
The space between them vanished. His hand hovered near her waist, not touching, waiting. Asking without words. Amber's pulse thundered. She should stop this. She knew she should.
But she didn't.
She closed the distance instead.
The kiss was slow at first—measured, testing—but it didn't stay that way. Weeks of restraint unraveled in a heartbeat. Heat surged, fingers finally gripping fabric, breath stuttering. The world disappeared.
Amber pulled back first, her forehead resting against his chest.
"This changes everything," she said.
Alex's voice was rough. "It already has."
Later, alone again, Amber stared out at the city. Her reflection looked different—less guarded, more alive. The scandal, the pressure, the danger—it was all still there. But now, something else had joined it.
Desire.
And for the first time in a very long while, Amber Gareth wasn't sure which would cost her more: surrendering… or resisting.