Chapter Three: Collision Course
1427 Words
POV: Ava Clarke
Outside, the city hummed - restless. Sleep never came. Just staring at the ceiling, pulse ticking too fast. That note sat heavy in my mind, crumpled or not.
My body twisted, tangled in fabric damp with nerves. Every shadow seemed louder than the last.
You think no one sees it. Yet here it is, clear as the cut of a knife. That paper means nothing when the truth comes walking through the door.
What woman was she talking about? Could it be a trick? Then again… maybe Roman thought I wasn’t strong enough.
Footsteps sharp on the floor, I pushed through the door just after sunrise, pulse racing - though not from nerves, rather from what waited ahead.
There he sat, present before anyone else. Naturally. A figure built like authority itself, broad-shouldered, tailored down to the last button, as if made to fill a room without speaking.
"Morning," came out slow, like it didn’t matter. His tone was steady, almost too calm. Yet a twitch near his eyes gave him away. A spark lit there - sharp, sudden. He saw that I’d seen the words on the page.
“Morning,” I replied, voice even, though my jaw clenched. “We need to go over the terms again. I want clarification on the public appearance clause.”
A slight lift of one brow, he shifted weight into the recline of the seat. “Need things spelled out? The paper has your name on it. Meaning shouldn’t be up for debate.”
“Clear?” I echoed, smirking. “It’s clear someone wants to humiliate me the moment I step in front of cameras.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. Was he really being asked that?
“Don’t play coy, Roman. That note your handwriting, your style it’s a warning. I don’t scare easily, but I’m not blind either.”
Up he rose, looming large, fingers tucked deep into coat pockets. Near enough that his body heat brushed against my skin like a slow breeze. "Do you really believe I’d bother giving you a heads-up? You dragged my name through the dirt in front of everyone. So now - this is balance."
For just a moment, I stopped moving. That grin, his posture leaning there - tight, calm strength - it meant trouble. Still, I stayed where I was. “Think you’re getting even? With me? Save the ego. Your payback isn’t something I wait for. Handling things myself works fine.”
He stepped closer. “Can you?” His voice dropped, low, almost a growl. “Because last night, you weren’t just surviving you were testing me. You provoked me, Ava. Do you understand that?”
“I provoked you?” I shot back. “You humiliated me in front of the city. If anyone provoked anyone, it was you.”
Not once did we look away, circling close, words cutting like blades. Each step forward met by one of his, measured and slow. The space hummed - alive with something sharper than anger. Heat built, though it wasn’t desire. More like standing near a live wire, waiting. Neither moved first. Neither backed down.
You are unmanageable, he stated, his tone sharper than before.
“Right back at you,” I replied.
That was when he dropped still, lowering himself into a chair, propping forward until the table took his weight. Near enough now that the air between us tightened. His voice came low, edged like stone dragged over wood. The trouble isn’t me doubting you - no - it runs the other way. It’s your mind. Always two steps ahead. Watching every flicker I think stays buried.
I swallowed, blinking. “That’s… flattering, I think.”
“No. It’s a threat,” he corrected. “This isn’t just a contract, Ava. You think it’s one thing. Public appearances, separate bedrooms. But I don’t play by the rules you assume. One misstep by you, by me, by anyone could destroy everything.”
I leaned forward. “So this is a warning. Threat. Or challenge?”
His mouth curled at the corners. "Every single one."
A sharp taste filled my mouth as I held myself still. Near. So near now. Each breath felt charged, like air before a storm.
“You know,” I said, voice low, “I could walk out right now. Leave the contract, leave the company, leave everything.”
“And?” His smirk widened. “You’ll be back. Pride, stubbornness, curiosity you’ll be back, Clarke. You always come back.”
Maybe. Not spoken, yet hanging there just the same.
Then he leaned back, watching me. “Here’s the real twist.” His voice dropped. “Your family didn’t just sign you up for appearances. They tied part of your assets to this contract. If it fails… it’s on you. Not them. Not me. You.”
I froze. “What?”
“The money. The business. The reputation. One year. One misstep. And it’s yours to lose.”
Breathing fast, jaw tight. The stakes climbed beyond what I’d guessed. More danger now. Yet him - he always found the move that boxed me in.
“You didn’t tell me that,” I said, cold. “That’s… dangerous. And unethical.”
“Unethical?” he chuckled. “Welcome to Lagos, Clarke. Unethical is normal.”
I slammed my hands on the table. “You think this scares me? I’ve faced worse. I can handle it.”
“Can you?” he asked, voice dropping again, eyes piercing. “Because I can’t. Handle you. Not yet.”
Heat rose in my chest, hands shaky not from fright but something sharper. The words hung there - charged, maddening, risky. Him knowing that weight mattered just as much.
The door swung open. Into the room came my assistant, clutching a sheet of paper, eyes wide. A moment passed before they spoke - voice low - “There’s something you need to see. It arrived just now.”
His eyes locked on her. Right then?
She nodded. “Yes. From… someone claiming to know about your past. It’s threatening.”
My body stiffened. The pulse in my chest jumped faster. "Let me see it," I said
There she was, passing over the envelope. A quick rip and it came apart in his hands. For just an instant, I caught sight of the page - then he crumpled it shut, face going stiff.
“Someone’s trying to manipulate us,” he said, voice low. “And now, Clarke… you’re involved whether you like it or not.”
I swallowed. “That’s… your problem, not mine.”
“No.” His gaze locked on mine, dangerous and sharp. “It’s both of ours. This contract doesn’t just bind you and me. It binds whatever secrets we each hold.”
A pause. My fingers rest against my waist. Words come sharp, needing order now - “We start fresh. Boundaries first.”
He tilted his head, amused. “Ground rules? For what? Surviving? Winning?”
“Surviving. Winning. And making sure neither of us destroys the other in the meantime.”
He smirked. “You really think you can survive me, Clarke?”
Forward I leaned, eyes locking onto his. "Test it," came my voice, steady and clear.
Our eyes stayed locked, neither of us moving. A beat passed before his mouth curled, releasing a quiet laugh - tight, almost careful - that stirred an odd flutter inside my chest. His words came slow: "Interesting... this will be."
“Interesting? That’s one word for it,” I replied.
Out of nowhere, he moved in near me - so near his warmth touched my skin. A hush fell between us before he spoke. "Risky," he murmured, voice low. Then again, softer: it's what draws him in
Something twisted inside. Not terror. A spark instead. Ready for what comes next. Wanting it too much.
Then he straightened. “We start appearances tomorrow. And Clarke…”
My breath stopped, pulse hammering. Stillness gripped me, chest tight.
“Don’t forget,” he said, voice almost teasing, “I’m watching. Every move, every word, every breath. Don’t slip.”
My throat tightened. Got it
When he walked out, silence pressed down, thick as thunder before rain. There was the note. Hidden truths lingered nearby. A signed agreement waited. That name again - Roman Adeyemi.
Everything had changed in twenty-four hours.
Fight it would be - this year wouldn’t see me leave without one. That much, at least, I already understood.
- Writer
