Ravenous Revenge

Chapter Fourteen-Lyssa

The elevator doors slid open onto the top floor of Rossi Enterprises — a masterpiece of glass, steel, and cold precision. The space was immaculate, the kind of place that radiated power without saying a word.

My boots hit the polished marble with a satisfying weight, the sound drawing a few sidelong stares from passing employees. Their tailored suits and curated calm clashed against my black leather like oil and water. I didn't belong here, and I wanted everyone to know it.

Still, I'd be lying if I denied the beauty of it: sunlight slicing through enormous windows, minimalist decor that somehow felt grand. It all spoke to one thing—a man who prized control. Like Ares Rossi. Controlled. Untouchable.

Until last night.

The double doors to his office loomed ahead like an unspoken challenge. I didn't knock. They swung open on my approach, loud in the hush, and there he was.

Ares stood by the window, hands in the pockets of his tailored suit. Morning light cut across his profile, catching the lines in his face and the faint furrow between his brows as he turned. Surprise flickered, quickly smoothed into the confident smirk I'd learned to hate.

"Lyssa," he said, voice smooth, amused. "You weren't kidding when you said you'd find me."

I walked in and let the doors close behind me. "What the f**k happened last night?"

His smirk wavered for a beat. "You're going to have to be more specific."

I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. "Don't play games, Ares. You know exactly what I mean. The stunt you pulled—"

"Stunt?" He cut me off, stepping away from the window with that same calm, precise motion that always set my teeth on edge. "You'll have to enlighten me. As far as I recall, I've been very busy running a company."

I took a step in. "You don't remember showing up, throwing your weight around, and making damn sure I didn't forget who's in charge?"

He stopped at his desk, leaning against the edge like nothing fazed him. "You sound angry, Lyssa. Did I upset you?"

His deflection made my blood boil. "Upset? That's one way to put it."

He tilted his head, studying me with that infuriating calm. "I think you're mistaken. If I'd done anything like that, I would certainly remember."

There it was — a crack. His words were smooth, but his eyes told another story: a flicker of something beneath the surface. He was lying.

"You're really going to sit there and pretend it wasn't you?" I asked, low.

He straightened, the smirk sharpening. "I don't pretend, Lyssa. Whatever you think happened, it wasn't me."

For a long moment, we just stared, the quiet between us heavy with unsaid things. Ares tried to look unshakable, but his jaw tightened, his hands flexed at his sides. He wasn't as untouchable as he wanted me to believe.

"Fine," I said, stepping closer. "If you won't tell me, I'll find out myself. And when I do, you won't be able to hide behind that desk or your excuses."

He arched a brow as if the challenge amused him. "I'd expect nothing less."

He didn't flinch under my glare; his composure snapped back on like armor. But I wasn't fooled. He knew something.

My blood boiled. I spun on my heel and strode for the doors, my boots echoing across the marble.

"You can sit up here in your glass tower pretending you're untouchable," I called over my shoulder, venom in my voice. "But don't think for a second I've forgotten what you did last night. You might've f****d me and left, but that doesn't mean you've won. I may have submitted for a moment, but I wasn't done then—and I'm damn sure not done now."

For the first time since I'd walked in, his mask slipped—just a little. He heard me. Good.

I shoved the doors open harder than I needed to, the sound reverberating down the quiet corridor. My steps were deliberate, each one a declaration.

By the time I reached the elevator, my chest was tight and my mind was racing. I slammed the button and leaned against the mirrored walls as the doors closed. My reflection stared back at me: jaw set, eyes burning with purpose.

He thought he could break me. He thought he'd buried me under his arrogance and dominance.

He was wrong.

As the elevator descended, I replayed his smug face, his evasions, the shadow of guilt he tried to hide. He might've had the upper hand last night, but this fight wasn't over.

When I stepped back into the cool morning air, I'd decided what I would do. If Ares Rossi thought I was another pawn in his game, he was about to learn the hard way he'd picked the wrong opponent.

I vaulted onto my bike, the engine roaring to life, and sped into the city with plans already forming—ways to rip his careful world apart, piece by piece.