THE MAN SHE HEATED
Amara knew there were some people you could forgive.
There were people you could hate.
And then there was Damian Cross.
He belonged to a completely different category.
He was the one man she had promised herself she would never forgive.
For five years, she had avoided him.
Five years of pretending that the sound of his name didn't make her blood boil.
Five years of building her life around one simple goal—to make sure the Cross family never had the power to hurt the Vale family again.
Tonight, however, fate had decided to be cruel.
Amara stood at the entrance of the Grand Meridian Hotel, staring through the glass doors at hundreds of wealthy guests dressed in expensive suits and gowns.
She adjusted the sleeve of her black dress and took a slow breath.
"You're late."
Her best friend, Liana, appeared beside her.
Amara glanced at her watch.
"I'm three minutes late."
"Three minutes is late when you're walking into a room full of people who would happily sell their own mother for a business deal."
Amara smiled faintly.
"Then I should fit right in."
Liana laughed.
They stepped inside.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Waiters moved through the crowd carrying champagne glasses while businessmen discussed millions of naira as casually as if they were discussing lunch.
Amara wasn't interested in any of them.
She had come for one reason.
Her father's company was negotiating a major partnership tonight, and she needed to make sure everything went smoothly.
She had almost reached her father's table when the room suddenly became quieter.
Not completely silent.
Just quieter.
The kind of silence that happened when someone important entered.
Amara stopped walking.
She didn't need to turn around.
She already knew.
Damian Cross.
Her fingers tightened around the small purse in her hand.
Liana noticed immediately.
"Amara..."
"Don't."
"But—"
"I said don't."
She turned anyway.
And there he was.
Damian walked into the ballroom wearing a perfectly fitted black suit. His expression was calm, almost arrogant, as though the entire room belonged to him.
Five years had changed him.
His jaw looked sharper.
His shoulders broader.
His dark eyes were colder.
But that confidence was exactly the same.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Then Damian's lips curved into the smallest smile.
Not a friendly smile.
A warning.
He walked toward her.
Amara's heart beat faster, but she refused to let him see it.
"Amara Vale."
His voice was deeper than she remembered.
She lifted her chin.
"Damian Cross."
They stood several feet apart.
The years between them disappeared.
Suddenly, she was twenty-two again, standing outside her father's office, watching everything she loved fall apart.
And Damian was there.
The son of the family she blamed.
The man she had sworn to destroy.
"You look well," Damian said.
"I can't say the same about you."
His eyebrow lifted.
"Still angry."
"Still arrogant."
"Still blaming me?"
Amara stepped closer.
"I don't blame you for everything, Damian."
His expression changed slightly.
"No?"
"No."
She smiled without warmth.
"Just the things you actually did."
His eyes hardened.
"You never knew what actually happened."
"I knew enough."
"No, Amara. You knew what your father told you."
"And you knew what yours told you."
Silence fell between them.
Neither looked away.
Then Damian leaned slightly closer.
"Be careful."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Is that a threat?"
"No."
His voice dropped.
"It's advice."
Amara laughed softly.
"I don't take advice from men I hate."
For the first time, the smile disappeared from his face.
"Then perhaps you should start."
Before she could respond, her father's voice came from behind her.
"Amara."
She turned.
Her father stood a few feet away, his expression unusually serious.
"We need to talk."
Amara frowned.
"About the partnership?"
"No."
He looked past her.
His eyes landed on Damian.
And something in his expression made Amara's stomach tighten.
"About the marriage."
