The rain came without warning, heavy and unrelenting, drumming against the wide glass windows of the Wilson penthouse. Alex stood shirtless near the bar, a crystal tumbler in his hand, his thoughts darker than the storm outside. The city lights blurred behind the rain, but his mind was fixed on only one thing—Amber Gareth.
She had become a distraction he hadn't planned for, a variable he couldn't calculate away. Every move she made challenged him. Every word she spoke stayed with him long after the meetings ended. And tonight, after everything that had unfolded, the tension between them had reached a point where control felt… fragile.
A knock sounded.
Alex didn't need to ask who it was.
"Come in," he said, his voice low.
The door opened, and Amber stepped inside, dressed in a sleek black coat that clung to her curves, rainwater glistening on her hair. Her eyes met his, sharp and unreadable, yet something else flickered beneath—something raw.
"You said it was urgent," Amber said, closing the door behind her. "I don't appreciate being summoned like this."
Alex set the glass down slowly. "You came anyway."
"That doesn't mean you own my time."
He turned fully to face her, the air between them instantly tightening. "No. But it does mean you wanted to be here."
Amber scoffed, shrugging out of her coat. "Don't flatter yourself, Alex. The board is restless, the press is circling again, and someone is still feeding information from the inside. I came for answers."
"And I called you," he replied calmly, "because the leak didn't come from my company."
That caught her attention.
"What?"
"I traced it," Alex continued. "The last two releases—both routed through a shell media account. It leads back to someone connected to Gareth Accessories."
Amber's jaw tightened. "That's impossible. Camila and I—"
"I'm not accusing you," he cut in, stepping closer. "But someone close to you is playing a dangerous game."
Silence fell between them, heavy and loaded. Amber's mind raced, faces flashing through her thoughts—staff, partners, even extended family. Betrayal was not unfamiliar to her, but it still burned.
"Why tell me this now?" she asked quietly.
Alex's gaze softened, just slightly. "Because despite everything, I don't want you blindsided."
Amber looked up at him then, really looked at him. The tension shifted, changing shape, becoming something thicker, more intimate.
"And what do you want, Alex?" she asked. "Because you never do anything without wanting something in return."
He exhaled slowly. "Tonight? Honesty."
Her brows lifted. "That's new."
"Don't mock it," he said, his voice rougher now. "You think I don't see it? The way you fight every feeling like it's a weakness. The way you hold yourself like if you let go once, everything will collapse."
Amber laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "You don't know anything about what I've survived."
"Then tell me."
The challenge hung in the air.
Amber turned away, walking toward the window. The rain streaked down the glass, mirroring the turmoil inside her. "I learned early that love costs," she said. "That trusting someone gives them power to destroy you. I won't be owned by emotions again."
Alex moved behind her, close enough that she could feel his heat, but he didn't touch her. Not yet.
"And what if," he murmured, "this isn't about ownership? What if it's about choosing?"
Her breath caught.
"You're dangerous," she said. "You say things like that as if they don't have consequences."
"They do," he replied. "That's why I mean them."
Amber turned to face him, their bodies now inches apart. The tension snapped—sharp, undeniable. Her hand came up, pressing against his chest, not to push him away, but to steady herself.
"This," she whispered, "this is exactly what I avoid."
Alex covered her hand with his, his thumb brushing her knuckles. "And yet you're still here."
For a moment, neither moved. The world outside faded—the storm, the city, the scandal—everything narrowed to the space between them.
Amber broke first.
She kissed him.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't hesitant. It was pent-up fire and restraint finally cracking. Alex froze for half a second before pulling her closer, his hand sliding into her damp hair as he deepened the kiss. The intensity surged, raw and consuming.
Amber gasped as his mouth traced down her jaw, her neck. "Alex—"
"Tell me to stop," he said against her skin.
She didn't.
Instead, she pulled his mouth back to hers, kissing him harder, as if daring herself to fall. His hands moved with purpose now, sliding along her waist, pulling her against him until there was no space left to pretend.
They stumbled toward the couch, urgency replacing restraint. Clothes became obstacles, shrugged off without care. The kiss turned desperate, hungry, fueled by weeks of tension and unspoken desire.
When Alex finally paused, his forehead resting against hers, his breathing uneven, his voice was low and deliberate. "This doesn't make you weak."
Amber's eyes searched his, vulnerable but defiant. "Don't promise what you can't guarantee."
"I'm not promising forever," he said honestly. "I'm promising tonight."
She nodded once.
That was enough.
—
Elsewhere in the city, Camila sat in the Gareth mansion's private study, documents spread across the table. Her phone buzzed again—another anonymous tip, another half-truth designed to destabilize them.
Her expression hardened.
"So it's coming from inside," she murmured.
Across the hall, Sophie's teenage niece, Maya, laughed softly at something on her phone, oblivious to the corporate war unfolding around her. Life went on—innocence, ambition, love, betrayal—all coexisting under the same roof.
Camila closed the file decisively.
Whoever was behind this would be exposed. And when they were, the fallout would be brutal.
—
Back at the penthouse, the storm outside finally began to ease, rain slowing to a gentle patter. Amber lay beside Alex, the weight of what had just happened settling in.
She didn't regret it.
But she didn't trust it either.
As she dressed quietly, Alex watched her, his expression unreadable.
"This changes things," she said.
"Yes," he agreed. "It does."
She turned to him, composed once more, armor sliding back into place. "Don't mistake what happened for surrender."
Alex smiled faintly. "I wouldn't dare."
Amber picked up her coat. "Good. Because the war isn't over."
"And neither are we," he replied.
She paused at the door, then glanced back. "We'll see."
The door closed behind her, leaving Alex alone with the fading scent of her and the undeniable truth settling in his chest—this was no longer just business, and walking away would be impossible.