Amber stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, fingers adjusting the cuff of her sleeve with slow precision. The city was still asleep, but her mind had been awake for hours, replaying the last meeting with Alex, the way his eyes had lingered too long, the way his voice had softened when he thought no one else was listening.
Beneath the mask of power she wore so effortlessly, something was shifting. And she hated that she could feel it.
Downstairs, the Gareth mansion stirred to life. Camila was already seated at the breakfast table, tablet in hand, eyes scanning headlines. The scandal had evolved—no longer explosive, but persistent, like a wound refusing to heal.
Amber joined her, composed as ever.
"You saw it," Camila said without looking up.
"Yes."
"They're speculating again. This time, they're linking you directly to Wilson Corporation. Not just business. They're hinting at… more."
Amber reached for her coffee, unfazed on the surface. "Let them speculate. Rumors are only dangerous when you react to them."
Camila finally looked up, studying her sister carefully. "And when the rumors are true?"
Amber's hand stilled for half a second before she lifted the cup. "Truth is irrelevant. Control is what matters."
Camila didn't argue. She rarely did anymore. But the silence between them said enough.
By noon, Gareth Accessories was in full motion. Designers rushed between floors, assistants whispered into headsets, and the boardroom was already occupied when Amber arrived.
Alex was there.
He stood by the window, jacket off, sleeves rolled, exuding that effortless authority that made people listen before he even spoke. When he turned and saw her, something unreadable crossed his face.
"Miss Gareth," he said calmly.
"Mr. Wilson."
The board members filed in, oblivious to the tension crackling between the two most powerful people in the room. The meeting began as expected—numbers, forecasts, legal clarifications—but it didn't take long before the conversation sharpened.
"The merger timeline needs adjustment," Alex said. "With the current scrutiny, we can't afford delays."
Amber leaned forward slightly. "Or reckless acceleration. Rushing now would confirm every rumor they're pushing."
Alex's gaze locked onto hers. "Sometimes pressure forces clarity."
"And sometimes," Amber replied evenly, "pressure breaks things permanently."
A few board members shifted uncomfortably. The air grew tight.
Alex smiled faintly. "Are you suggesting I'm reckless?"
"I'm suggesting," Amber said, voice smooth and deadly calm, "that I don't gamble with my empire."
The room went quiet.
Alex studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Fair enough. Then let's compromise."
They worked through the details with razor-sharp focus, neither yielding more than necessary. But beneath the professionalism, something else simmered—an unspoken awareness, a pull neither could deny.
When the meeting ended, the others filtered out quickly, sensing they were no longer needed.
Amber gathered her files. "If that's all—"
"It's not."
She looked up.
Alex had moved closer, voice low. "You're slipping, Amber."
Her eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"
"You're angry," he continued quietly. "Not strategic. Not calculated. Angry."
She straightened. "Do not presume—"
He cut her off. "You don't like that I see it."
Silence fell between them, thick and heavy.
Amber stepped closer, closing the distance herself. "And you don't like that you're losing control."
His jaw tightened. "I've never lost control."
"Then why," she asked softly, "are you standing this close?"
For a moment, neither moved. The world outside the room ceased to exist.
Alex's voice dropped. "Because walking away from you is becoming impossible."
Her breath caught—but only for a second. "Then you should try harder."
She turned and left, heels clicking sharply against the floor, refusing to look back.
That night, the city pulsed with energy. An exclusive charity gala filled the upper floors of a private venue overlooking the skyline. Power, wealth, and ambition gathered under crystal lights—and Amber Gareth arrived like she owned the air itself.
Her dress was sleek, dangerous, unapologetic. Conversations paused as she passed. Cameras flashed. Whispers followed.
Alex saw her the moment she entered.
He had told himself he wouldn't approach her. He lasted five minutes.
"You enjoy making entrances," he said beside her.
She didn't look at him. "And you enjoy watching them."
They stood together, tension wrapped in elegance, hands inches apart but not touching.
The music shifted. Couples moved to the dance floor.
"Dance with me," Alex said.
Amber finally turned to him. "That would be unwise."
"Everything about us is," he replied.
A beat passed. Then she placed her hand in his.
The dance was slow, intimate, dangerous. His hand rested at her waist, firm but respectful. Hers rested on his shoulder, light but intentional.
"You're not just a scandal," he murmured. "You're a distraction."
She met his gaze. "And you're not just temptation. You're a liability."
His thumb brushed slightly against her back. "Then why are you here with me?"
"Because," she said quietly, "denying this won't make it disappear."
Their movements slowed. The world faded.
For one suspended moment, control fractured.
Then Amber stepped back.
"This doesn't change anything," she said.
Alex nodded, eyes dark. "No. It just complicates it."
She walked away before he could stop her.
And for the first time in a long time, Alex Wilson watched someone leave—and knew he was the one losing ground.