The truce was fragile, built on sugar and silence.
The "shirt incident" in the AVA flagship had not been a declaration of peace. It had been a pause in the hostilities. A moment where two enemies stood on opposite sides of a canyon and acknowledged that the other was... armed.
And attractive.
Aurora sat in her office, the morning after Liam’s visit. The white shirt he had bought—the one she had designed for him, even if she hadn't admitted it—was gone. But his presence lingered.
She touched her wrist, where he had grabbed her at the gala. The skin still felt warm.
Stop it.
She stood up, shaking off the phantom sensation. She was not a teenager with a crush. She was a CEO with a target on her back.
The "Fortress" collection was a success. The public was on her side. But the industry.
