Terms Of War
1217 Words
The lipstick-stained note still sat on his desk.
Nico hadn’t moved it.
He also hadn’t touched the whiskey he poured after she walked out of his office like she owned it. Like she hadn’t just flipped his entire operation on her head and left a challenge printed in red.
She was reckless and defiant. And God help him, she was completely unforgettable.
Nico exhaled through his nose, jaw tight, and hit the intercom. “Make sure Miss Cole is set up two doors down. I want updates on her progress hourly.”
The assistant stammered something back.
He didn’t hear it.
His mind was already three steps ahead, plotting the terms of this war.
Lena pushed open the glass door of her new office the next morning with a deep breath and a hot coffee in hand extra bold, just like her mood. If Nico Wolfe wanted to intimidate her by keeping her close, he was going to be disappointed.
Her office was beautiful, of course. Cold, pristine, and ridiculously oversized. Floor-to-ceiling windows, a sleek marble desk, and a view that screamed “money.” But the walls? Paper-thin. She could hear every move from Nico’s suite phones ringing, conversations clipped, his low baritone commanding the room.
Let him listen.
She had work to do.
Lena slid out her laptop and started building the first phase of her campaign. The pitch that had gotten her here was only the beginning. Now she had to outperform expectations under a microscope, with the devil himself watching through glass.
She was halfway through structuring the rebranding timeline when her screen pinged.
New Email:
From: Nico Wolfe
Subject: Come to my office for a briefing right now.
No greeting. No explanation.
Of course, she took her time replying.
Reply:
“Coming. Just wanted to make sure you remembered how to say ‘please.’”
Two seconds later:
Reply from Nico:
“I don’t. Move.”
Lena smirked.
His door was already open.
She stepped inside, posture straight, chin high. “You rang?”
Nico didn’t look up immediately. When he did, his gaze dragged up her legs, past her black pencil skirt, and locked on her face with infuriating calm.
“I have updates,” he said. “I want your input.”
“Oh? You suddenly value my opinion?”
“I value results,” he said coolly. “I don’t have to like someone to use their talent.”
Lena crossed her arms. “Then why do I get the feeling you’re more interested in playing chess with me than running a campaign?”
Something flickered in his eyes interest, maybe. Or something hotter.
“Because I don’t lose,” he said, voice low. “And you’re the first person who’s ever dared to walk into my office and treat me like a challenge.”
“That’s not true,” she shot back. “You just don’t remember the ones who walked out on their terms.”
Silence.
His gaze dropped to her mouth for half a second, barely enough to catch. But she caught it.
And that told her everything.
“I’m here to deliver results,” she said, walking to the table and placing her file down. “Not to play power games with a man who needs therapy more than control.”
Nico let out a low laugh, short, sharp. “You think I need therapy?”
“I think any man who reacts to being outvoted by dragging someone into his building and putting them under surveillance might want to consider it.”
He stood slowly.
One step brought him to her side. Not touching. Just near enough that she could feel the static in the air again. Like standing too close to a storm.
“Be careful, Lena,” he said, his voice a breath. “You keep pushing me, and eventually, I’ll push back.”
She turned her head toward him, deliberately slowly.
“Good,” she whispered. “I want to see what happens when the perfect man finally cracks.”
He stared at her, no words, just tension, hot and suffocating.
She could feel it pulse between them. The moment stretched long and tight and full of something unspoken.
Then, suddenly, he stepped back.
“You’ll be joining me for a networking dinner tonight,” he said curtly, breaking the moment. A last-minute invite from the lead investors came in. You’ll be expected to look… presentable.”
Lena blinked. “Excuse me?”
“You’re the face of this campaign now. That makes you an extension of Wolfe International.”
She tilted her head. “And you expect me to play pretty and smile for your business friends?”
“I expect you to be smarter than letting pride ruin this deal.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Fine. But don’t mistake this for submission. "I’ll play your game, Wolfe.”
He walked back to his desk, cool and collected, as if she hadn’t just thrown another gauntlet between them.
“Oh, Lena,” he murmured without looking up, “you’re not playing my game.”
She turned toward the door.
He added, voice smooth as silk, “You’re in it.”
That night, the private dining room glowed in gold and crystal.
Lena stepped out of the black car in a deep emerald dress that hugged her curves and announced she hadn’t come to fade into the background. Heads turned as she entered.
Including Nico’s.
His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes went quiet—like the silence right before the burn.
“You’re late,” he said under his breath as she reached him.
“You’ll survive,” she answered with a smile.
He leaned in a bit closer. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea,” she replied.
The evening felt like a whirlwind of meeting new people and receiving sly compliments from men wearing expensive suits. Lena maintained a smile throughout, keenly aware of Nico’s intense gaze on her. When he thought she wasn’t looking, she noticed him gripping his glass a little too tightly.
A noticeable change in the energy between them became almost tangible.
However, everything changed when they found themselves alone again. His driver had just dropped them off at the Grand Wolfe tower.
The elevator doors closed with a quiet swish. It was silent.
The atmosphere was heavy with tension.
Lena felt her breathing quicken, and she hated how much she noticed him, how his scent and his presence made her feel all twisted up inside.
“You should be careful about how you look at me,” Nico said in a low voice, his hands tucked in his pockets.
She raised an eyebrow. “And how exactly am I looking at you?”
“Like you’re curious.”
“I’m not.”
“Liar.”
The elevator came to a stop.
The doors opened.
But neither of them made a move to leave.
As Lena turned to step out, just as her heels were about to touch the marble floor
He held her wrist in his hand.
She froze.
His grip was gentle yet firm.
His voice dropped, warm against her ear. “If you don’t want this… You need to say it now.”
- Writer
