Chapter 5
Elena Laurent did not believe in bad luck.
She believed in bad planning.
Which was why the email sitting on her laptop screen made absolutely no sense.
She read it again.
Then again.
Then one more time, just to make sure she wasn't hallucinating.
Subject: Strategic Partnership Approval
Her father had approved a joint project.
Between Laurent Group and Moretti Enterprises.
Elena slowly leaned back in her chair.
"No."
She grabbed her phone immediately and dialed.
The line picked up on the second ring.
"Good morning, Elena," her father's calm voice said.
"Tell me the email is fake."
"It isn't."
Elena closed her eyes.
"You approved a partnership with the Morettis?"
"Yes."
"Without telling me?"
"You would have argued."
"Of course I would have argued!"
Her father chuckled lightly.
"Which is exactly why I made the decision first."
Elena stood up from her chair and started pacing her office.
"You know our families hate each other."
"That's exactly why this partnership is important."
"Oh please," she scoffed. "This is business suicide."
"No," her father corrected calmly.
"It's business strategy."
Elena rubbed her forehead.
"You expect me to work with Damon Moretti?"
"Yes."
The answer came too quickly.
Too easily.
Her father clearly enjoyed this.
"You'll be leading the project together."
Elena stopped pacing.
"Absolutely not."
"The contracts are already signed."
Her eyes widened.
"You can't be serious."
"Very."
"Cancel it."
"That would make us look weak."
Elena stared at the window of her office, the city skyline stretching endlessly beyond it.
"Dad…"
"Yes?"
"I will kill him."
Her father laughed.
"Try not to. It would complicate the partnership."
The line went dead.
Elena slowly lowered the phone.
She stared at the email again.
Then slammed her laptop shut.
"This is a nightmare."
Moretti Enterprises Headquarters
The building was everything Elena expected.
Modern.
Cold.
Powerful.
Glass walls and marble floors reflected the morning sunlight as she stepped into the lobby.
Employees moved quickly around her.
Professional.
Efficient.
And every single one of them looked slightly nervous.
Interesting.
Elena approached the reception desk.
"I'm here to see Damon Moretti."
The receptionist blinked.
"You're Elena Laurent."
It wasn't a question.
Elena sighed.
"Yes."
"Mr. Moretti is expecting you."
Of course he was.
The woman quickly pressed a button.
"Send her up."
Moments later the elevator doors opened.
Elena stepped inside alone.
As the elevator rose, she checked her reflection in the mirrored wall.
Sharp black blazer.
White blouse.
Hair perfectly styled.
She looked like she belonged here.
She looked like someone who was not about to strangle the CEO of the building.
The elevator stopped.
The doors slid open.
And there he was.
Leaning casually against his office desk.
Damon Moretti.
No tie again.
Sleeves rolled slightly up his forearms.
Like he owned the entire world and didn't care who knew it.
"Elena," he said.
She walked into the office.
"Moretti."
His office was massive.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Minimalist furniture.
Elegant.
Intimidating.
Very him.
Elena crossed her arms.
"You planned this."
He raised an eyebrow.
"The partnership?"
"Yes."
"No."
"Liar."
Damon smiled faintly.
"I don't lie about business."
"Sure."
She dropped a file onto his desk.
"Our companies working together is ridiculous."
"Your father disagrees."
"My father enjoys chaos."
"Smart man."
Elena glared.
"You think this is funny?"
"No."
He walked around the desk slowly.
"But I do think it's interesting."
"Why?"
"Because you're here."
She scoffed.
"I didn't have a choice."
"You always have a choice."
Elena stepped closer.
"You're enjoying this way too much."
"Maybe."
Damon stopped in front of her.
Close enough that she could smell his cologne.
Dark.
Expensive.
Dangerous.
"You're tense," he said calmly.
"I'm surrounded by enemies."
"That sounds dramatic."
"It's accurate."
Damon tilted his head slightly.
"You know what I find interesting?"
"What?"
"You walked into my building like you owned it."
Elena smirked.
"I walk everywhere like that."
"I noticed."
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The tension between them was thick again.
Annoying.
Complicated.
Then Damon picked up the file she had brought.
"Our joint project."
Elena sighed.
"Luxury residential towers on the harbor."
"Billion-dollar development."
She nodded.
"Our companies have the resources to do it."
"And together we dominate the market."
Elena rolled her eyes.
"You say that like we're allies."
"We are."
"No we're not."
Damon's voice remained calm.
"You hate me."
"Yes."
"And yet we're going to work together every day."
Her eye twitched slightly.
"This will be unbearable."
"Probably."
Elena turned to leave.
Then paused.
"One more thing."
Damon looked up.
"Yes?"
"You will not flirt with me."
His expression barely changed.
"I wasn't aware I was flirting."
"You do it naturally. Stop."
He considered this.
"I'll try."
"Try harder."
She walked toward the door.
But Damon spoke again.
"Elena."
She turned.
"What?"
"You look good when you're angry."
Her jaw dropped slightly.
Then she glared.
"You're impossible."
"And you're still here."
Elena left the office before she could throw something at him.
Later That Afternoon
Matteo arrived at Elena's office.
He didn't bother knocking.
"How did the meeting go?"
Elena leaned back in her chair dramatically.
"I hate him."
"That bad?"
"Worse."
Matteo sat across from her.
"You don't have to handle this alone."
She sighed.
"I know."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Just remember something."
"What?"
"Damon Moretti plays games."
Elena frowned.
"And you don't?"
Matteo smiled faintly.
"I play to win."
She studied him carefully.
"You're worried."
"I'm cautious."
Elena glanced down at the project documents again.
This partnership was going to put her in Damon's orbit constantly.
Meetings.
Decisions.
Late-night planning.
Too much proximity.
Too much tension.
And something about Damon made everything feel unpredictable.
Matteo stood up.
"We'll handle him."
Elena nodded slowly.
But as Matteo left the office, one thought lingered in her mind.
Working with Damon Moretti wasn't the real problem.
The real problem was something else.
Something much worse.
Because every time she argued with him…
Every time they stood too close…
Every time his eyes held hers just a second too long…
It felt less like hatred.
And more like dangerous chemistry.
.