Fire Between Two Flames

CHAPTER 1

I can’t believe I’m finding myself here again. Sprawled across my office desk, lights dimmed, windows closed, curtains drawn, stealing a nap before my next board meeting. It’s becoming a bad habit—one I can’t seem to break. My work is neatly stacked on the floor, my laptop silenced because if I hear one more notification ping, I might actually throw it across the room. The desk phone lies off the hook, the dull hum of the line filling the silence. If it rings one more time, I might just open this window and count the seconds until I touch the bottom.

Exhaustion presses into my bones like a weight I can no longer lift, it has become more of a second skin. Last night was definitely a mistake. I need to stop letting my mother talk me into her matchmaking escapades that she believes is ‘fixing my life. ” She acts as if being successful and independent is a disease that can only be cured if I find the right man to stand by my side. Every few days, it’s the same story—another bar, another stranger she claims is perfect and another round of heavily filled alcoholic drinks just to survive the small talk. She swears I’m too intimidating and uptight. According to her, that’s why I’m still single. If you ask me, that’s why I’m still sane.

No matter how much of a nuisance these dates are I continue to go because for those few hours, it’s quiet. Not in the definition of the word but enough that I can fade into the background noise, instead of carrying the world on my shoulders. There’s no sticky, tiny hands tugging me in every direction. I don’t have to think of answering urgent emails, or smile nicely at men trying to test my authority in a boardroom while secretly trying to dismantle me. Just me enjoying a moment of freedom in the dim buzz of a bar that smells like bad decisions and perfume.

Then moments like this happen and I’m here – back on this desk– letting fatigue swallow me whole.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys, Zarian and Malik, they are the reason I built this empire. They are the only people I’ve ever let own my life completely. When I got pregnant with Zarian, he made me grow overnight. I was in college with no clue what I was doing, my biggest concern was which shots to take on a Friday night. I wasn't thinking about building generational wealth or having a future at all. But those two pink lines changed everything for me. I hustled harder, studied smarter and graduated, later than expected, but stronger than ever.

I didn’t even have the chance to tell Keith, their father, about my second pregnancy with Malik because he abandoned us to chase freedom like responsibility was a prison sentence. That only taught me my own strength when he said he was too young for the life we’d built in our heads.

So, I built my empire alone. Drop-shipping turned into eCommerce. Late nights turned into profits. And profits turned into a billion dollar company, Legendary, an international luxury brand that started in my living room. It now runs out of this high-rise office with a corner view of a city that eats the weak alive. And still, somehow, I feel like the one being devoured.

My alarm buzzes — a cruel reminder that rest is a privilege I can’t afford. Meeting with the board. Meeting with the board – 10:00 a.m. I sit up, straighten my blouse, lift my chin and stare at my reflection in the dark window. My makeup’s fading, my curls are frizzing, and my eyes—God, they look tired, but my spine is still straight. I take a breath, I refuse to fall about because the world doesn’t need to know that I’m close to falling apart. I reach for my blazer just as there’s a knock at the door.

“Ms. Legend? The board is ready for you,” my assistant says, her voice hesitant.

I don't answer right away, breathing to prepare for battle, my poise becomes my armor. Then I say confidently, “Tell them I’ll be right there.”

The sound of my heels on marble floors is the only rhythm I trust anymore. I step into the conference room and twelve men look up, straightening their postures to perfection. It's the only thing I tolerate in my presence. They nod, half out of respect, half out of habit. I take my seat at the head of the table, my mask perfectly in place, power enhancing my speech as I begin commanding the room.

I was mid-sentence, presenting quarterly projections to the board, when that inexplicable sensation rolled through me: the primitive, animal knowledge that a predator had entered the room. It was subtle—a shift in pressure, like the moment before a storm breaks—but my body registered it immediately. The fine hairs on the back of my neck lifted. My skin prickled with awareness, goosebumps rising along my forearms despite the stifling heat of the packed conference room.

I faltered. Just for a heartbeat. Just long enough for my breath to catch and my pulse to kick into a higher gear.

The air changed before he entered, Ahmir Wolfe of Wolfe Global Consulting. A man who doesn’t take companies — he claims them, consumes them, remakes them in his image. Ruthless where I am relentless. Ice to my fire. He moved through the doorway like he owned not just the room but the very air we breathed. Six-foot-three of lean, controlled power wrapped in sunkissed milk chocolate brown skin, charcoal suit that had definitely been tailored on an Armani Runway. The fabric moved with him, draping perfectly across shoulders that were broader than I'd expected, tapering to a narrow waist. Everything about him was precise, deliberate—from the Windsor knot of his burgundy tie to the way his Italian leather shoes made no sound against my marble floors.

But it was his hands that caught my attention first. Long-fingered, elegant, with a large signet ring on his right hand that caught the light as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. Hands that looked like they could be gentle or brutal depending on his mood. Hands that made me think of things I had no business thinking about in a boardroom full of men who already doubted my competence.

My mouth went dry.

He didn't look at me. Not yet. He took his seat at the head of the table—the seat that had been conspicuously empty when we'd started—with the unhurried confidence of someone who knew everyone would wait. And we did.“Gentlemen,” he says, voice low and rich like something dangerous you sip anyway. “Let’s not waste time.” The entire room had gone silent, twelve board members and twice as many executives holding their collective breath.

I meet his stare, unblinking. The unspoken balance of power has just shifted. I hate that I can feel it. Choosing to ignore the fact that he didn’t acknowledge the only woman at the table, I straighten my shoulders, slide my notes forward, and offer a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “Mr. Wolfe, I assume you’ve had time to review the quarterly reports before making any sudden declarations regarding my business?"

His gaze cuts to me—sharp, accessing, “I don’t make declarations. I make decisions.” One of the board members clears his throat nervously, glancing between us. Ahmir doesn’t flinch. His jaw tightens, but the rest of him remains perfectly still, like a predator that doesn’t need to pounce to make its point.

“I’m aware of your… performance, Ms. Legend,” he says finally, his voice low, deliberate. “You’ve built something formidable. But growth without control breeds collapse. I’m just here to enforce order and impose structure.”

Where a lesser woman would flinch, I lean forward instead, “I built this from nothing, Mr. Wolfe, I guess you can say I am the order.” A murmur ripples through the room. One of the older board members adjusts his tie; another avoids looking at me altogether. Ahmir’s lips curve—barely. A ghost of amusement, gone as quickly as it came. He studies me — truly looks. Eyes slow, deliberate, lingering like a hand not yet touching but imagining. Something shifts in his gaze — not warmth. Heat. Controlled, coiled, dangerous heat, like he’s deciding whether to tame me or burn with me.

“So you’d prefer chaos?” he asks.

“I prefer progress,” I counter. “And in case you haven’t noticed, progress is the reason this company is still thriving.”

He studies me, eyes narrowing slightly. “Thriving can look a lot like spiraling—depending on where you’re standing. Now continue with your presentation, Ms. Legend.”

I forced myself to continue speaking, but I could feel my voice had changed, gone slightly breathless. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was certain everyone could hear it. Heat crept up my neck, and I prayed the high collar of my silk blouse hid the flush I could feel spreading across my skin.

Then he looked at me as he waited for me to begin.