Zurich was too quiet.
That was the first thing Nyra noticed.
No sirens. No shouting. No chaos humming beneath the surface. Just clean streets, controlled traffic, lights that felt… obedient. It unsettled her in a way she couldn't explain.
The hotel was worse.
Glass, steel, money everywhere. The kind of place where even the air felt expensive. Nyra stepped inside, her boots muffled by carpet thick enough to swallow sound.
"This is excessive," she muttered.
"It's standard," Adrian replied, handing his keycard to the concierge without breaking stride.
They reached her room. One door down from his.
"Be ready in thirty minutes," he said. "Dinner with stakeholders."
Nyra blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You'll wear the black dress," he added. "Hair down. Minimal makeup."
She laughed once. Sharp. "You forgot to add 'say please.'"
Adrian stopped.
Slowly turned to face her.
"These people don't forgive impressions," he said evenly. "You represent the project now. And me."
"And you represent control issues," she shot back.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "This isn't a debate, Nyra."
She stepped closer, tilting her head. "You don't get to own my image."
"I get to protect my investment," he replied.
Silence snapped between them.
Finally, she took the room key from his hand. "I'll be there," she said. "But I dress for me."
Thirty minutes later, she walked into the hotel lounge.
Conversations stalled.
Nyra wore the black dress but she'd made it hers. Clean lines, perfect fit, just enough edge to remind everyone she wasn't polished into obedience. Her locs fell freely down her back, wild and intentional.
Adrian looked up.
And forgot to breathe.
For a second just one his control slipped. Mouth parting slightly. Eyes darkening like a recalculation gone wrong.
Then he recovered.
"Acceptable," he said, standing.
Nyra leaned in, voice low. "Careful. You almost sounded impressed."
Dinner was a battlefield.
Men twice her age tested her with polite skepticism. Questions wrapped in smiles. Doubt disguised as courtesy.
Nyra answered calmly. Precisely. Ruthlessly.
By the third course, they stopped underestimating her.
Adrian watched in silence, irritation and admiration warring behind his eyes.
Back at the hotel, the elevator ride stretched unbearably quiet.
"You embarrassed them," he said finally.
She smirked. "Good."
"You don't play safe," he continued.
"I survive," she replied.
The elevator dinged.
As she stepped out, Adrian spoke again.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we start early. Don't be late."
Nyra paused, looking back at him.
"Relax, CEO," she said lightly. "I'll follow the rules."
She smiled then slow, dangerous.
"Just not yours."
She disappeared into her room, leaving Adrian alone in the elevator, staring at the closed door like it had just challenged him.
And won.