Allergic to love (until him)

> "To survive in business, you need two things: a killer instinct and a heart made of ice. I have both." —Elena Voss They called her The Ice Queen, and Elena Voss wore the title like a crown. Her empire, Voss Global Holdings, stretched across continents, swallowing weaker companies and leaving nothing but dust behind. She didn't rise to the top by being kind. She rose because she was brilliant, calculating, and unapologetically lethal. No scandals, no lovers, no vulnerabilities. She was everything the business world feared in a woman. But there was one man she couldn't bury. Knox Wilder. Wilder Industries. He was her opposite. Bold, ruthless, and reckless, but with charm the media devoured. He smiled for cameras, flirted with reporters, and landed billion-dollar contracts with a wink and a handshake. Where Elena used silence and precision, Knox used charisma and chaos. Their rivalry had become legendary. Oil fields in Dubai. Shipping lines in Singapore. Tech mergers in California. Wherever Elena moved, Knox was already there—competing, countering, or worse, winning. So when she stepped into the boardroom of the latest merger acquisition in Manhattan and saw him leaning casually against the glass window, coffee in one hand, smirk on his lips, Elena's blood iced over. "You're late," he said without looking at her, his voice smooth, like sin in silk. She dropped her coat on the nearest chair, heels clicking like a warning shot. "And you're still breathing. Shame." Knox turned, his sharp green eyes meeting hers with the ease of someone who'd danced with danger and never tripped. "Elena Voss. I was wondering when the snowstorm would roll in." "I don't have time for your games, Wilder." "Then you'll hate this," he said, pulling out a leather file and sliding it across the table. "I just bought out your partners' shares. I now own 51% of the merger you came here to control." Her fingers tightened on the chair. "You're bluffing." "Cross-reference the numbers if you like." He winked. "But by the time you're done, I'll be sipping scotch from your executive bar." She hated how calm he was. How devastatingly handsome he looked in his charcoal suit and that cocky tilt of his mouth. But worse—she hated that he wasn't lying. Elena stepped closer, her voice a threat disguised in velvet. "I don't lose." Knox leaned in too, so close she could smell the faint scent of his cologne—dark, woodsy, infuriating. "Then I guess I'm your first." A beat of silence. She'd clawed her way up from nothing, crushed men twice as powerful. And now this man, her rival, her equal, was breathing down her neck and stripping away her empire piece by piece. But Elena Voss didn't shatter. She adapted. Straightening her spine, she met his gaze with a cold smile. "Enjoy the feeling while it lasts. I'll have your company, your clients, and your name in ruin before the quarter ends." He chuckled, slow and dangerous. "God, I love when you threaten me." "You should pray I don't follow through." "I'm hoping you do." Her pulse betrayed her for a split second. The air between them wasn't just sharp—it crackled. They were fire and frost in the same breath, and even though she'd built her life on never trusting men, Elena felt the one thing she hated more than weakness. Curiosity. She turned on her heel and walked out, refusing to let him see her c***k. But Knox Wilder had just declared war. And Elena Voss? She was going to burn him to the ground—or melt in his fire trying. ---CHAPTER TWO : The Man Behind the Mask Elena Voss didn’t believe in surprises. She didn’t believe in coincidences either. Everything happened for a reason — usually a calculated one. But this? This man? This move? It reeked of deliberate provocation. And she never let anyone provoke her. Not without consequence. Her black Maserati cut through the dark streets of Valeria like a shadow. Rain streaked down the windshield, city lights blinking like dying stars. Her driver, Marcus, said nothing—he never did. He knew when Elena was brewing. And tonight, she was a storm in heels. The meeting was set for 9 PM. Odd time. Odd location. Not a conference room. Not a boardroom. A nightclub. Noir, the most elite, most exclusive, most dangerous club in Valeria. Owned by ghosts. Run by shadows. No one got in without blood on their hands or power in their veins. Knox Wilder had both. Elena stepped inside like she owned the place, and in a way, she did. Her influence stretched even into the city's darkest corners. Her eyes adjusted to the dim lights, her heartbeat steady, her expression ice. Then she saw him. Sitting at a corner VIP booth, one arm lazily draped over the backrest, whiskey in his hand like it belonged there. He wore a midnight black suit, no tie, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the edge of a tattoo on his chest. Knox Wilder. The man who had outplayed her. He stood as she approached, and in that moment — just a second — Elena hesitated. Not visibly. Not consciously. But something in his presence disrupted her rhythm. Like a violin string pulled too tight. “Elena Voss,” he said, voice low and smooth, dangerous as silk over a blade. “You’re even colder in person. I like it.” She didn’t sit. “Let’s skip the games. Why did you interfere with my acquisition?” He chuckled. “Straight to business. No drink? No flirtation?” “I don’t flirt. I dominate.” He leaned in, eyes sharp. “Maybe you just haven’t met your match.” Her spine stiffened. Who does he think he is? But she didn’t show it. Instead, she sat down, crossing her legs slowly, deliberately. “I’m giving you a chance to walk away before I destroy you.” He raised his glass. “Destroy me then, Ice Queen. But be careful. Fire melts ice.” That was the first c***k in her shield. And he saw it. --- Later that night, back in her penthouse, Elena stared at the glass of untouched wine on her desk. She didn’t drink it. Didn’t touch her dinner. She was thinking — deeply, furiously. Knox Wilder was dangerous. Not just because he was powerful, or clever, or well-connected. But because he saw her. Not the billionaire. Not the empire. Her. He spoke to the parts of her she buried with her mother. The parts her father tried to break. The parts she trained herself to forget. She hated that. But even more than hate... she felt curious. And that was dangerous. Very dangerous. --- Meanwhile… In a hidden surveillance room across the city, a man watched her on a monitor. Her every move. Her every word with Knox. A grim smile twisted on his lips. “Let them dance,” he murmured to himself. “It only makes the ending sweeter.”