Public Enemy
674 Words
By Monday morning, the media was in a frenzy.
Photos of Freya and Evander leaving his penthouse together had splashed across every gossip blog and business outlet in the city.
The headlines screamed scandal:
"Luxury Rivals Turn Lovers?"
"Evander Thatcher Stakes His Claim on Blake Luxe Heiress."
"Merger or Marriage?"
Freya sat in her office, the articles flashing across her tablet like a slow-moving car crash she couldn’t look away from.
"This is a disaster," Nora said, wringing her hands. "The investors are already calling."
Freya set the tablet down carefully, her face a mask of calm.
"Schedule a press conference," she said. "Today."
Nora blinked. "Are you sure? Shouldn't we.....?"
"I’m sure," Freya cut in. "We control the narrative. We don’t let it control us."
Before Nora could respond, the private line on Freya’s desk buzzed.
She didn't need to check the caller ID.
"Send him in," Freya said into the intercom.
Seconds later, Evander strode through the door, unbothered by the chaos he had helped unleash.
"You’re trending," he said with a smirk.
Freya shot him a lethal glare. "You think this is funny?"
"I think it's inevitable," he said, tossing a magazine onto her desk.
On the cover was a photo of them mid-conversation, Freya’s face lit up in a rare, unguarded smile.
A smile she hadn’t realized she’d given him.
Freya gritted her teeth. "We need a united front. No scandals. No rumors."
Evander leaned against her desk, arms folded casually.
"So you want a fake engagement?" he teased. "Publicity stunt of the year."
Freya stared at him, stone-faced.
"No. I want boundaries."
For the first time, a flicker of something serious passed through Evander’s eyes.
"Fine," he said. "But it won't change how they see us."
"Let me worry about that," Freya said.
Their gazes locked....sharp, daring, challenging.
Freya’s heart hammered against her ribs. She refused to let him see how much this rattled her.
"I called a press conference for three o'clock," she said briskly. "You’ll be there."
Evander straightened. "Wouldn’t miss it."
As he turned to leave, he paused at the door.
"For what it’s worth," he said over his shoulder, "you looked good in those pictures."
Freya didn’t dignify that with a response.
But long after he was gone, her reflection caught her off guard.....a flush of color high in her cheeks, a spark of fire in her eyes she hadn’t seen in months.
---
The conference room buzzed with reporters, cameras flashing as Freya and Evander took the stage.
Freya wore a sharp navy suit, her hair slicked into a polished chignon.
Evander, in a charcoal suit, exuded effortless power.
They sat side by side, perfectly poised, perfectly untouchable.
Freya spoke first.
"Recent reports about a personal relationship between myself and Mr. Thatcher are exaggerated. We are entering a business partnership, nothing more."
Evander’s smirk was subtle but unmistakable.
Reporters peppered them with questions, flashes popping like gunfire.
"Is this merger a defense strategy against Crane Ventures?"
"No comment," Freya said smoothly.
"Are you dating Mr. Thatcher?"
Freya’s lips curved into a cool smile. "I don’t mix business with pleasure."
A low chuckle rumbled from Evander beside her.
Freya shot him a look that promised pain later.
The conference ended with a flurry of shouted questions they ignored.
Outside, the flashbulbs chased them to the curb where a black car waited.
Freya slid in first, followed by Evander, who shut the door behind them with a decisive click.
In the silence of the car, their shoulders brushed.
The tension simmered, alive and dangerous.
"You handled that well," Evander said.
Freya stared out the window. "I'm not your damsel, Thatcher."
"Never thought you were," he murmured.
Their eyes met in the reflection.
For a moment, the city vanished, the cameras disappeared, and it was just them.
Freya inhaled sharply and looked away.
This was business.
Just business.
But the lines between hate, need, and something dangerously close to wanting were starting to blur.
And Freya wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend not to notice.
- Writer
