Skating on thin hearts

Chapter 13- Bait and trap

Lila adjusted the sheer top clinging to her frame, tugging it ever so slightly so that the neckline revealed just enough cleavage to catch the eye. She gave her reflection a slow, approving glance as she pushed her breasts upward, ensuring they were framed to perfection.

Her scheme was already unfolding exactly as she had envisioned. If James Carter wasn’t going to fall for her naturally, then she would force his hand. All it would take was planting seeds of jealousy, letting them take root until they consumed him. And who better to use as bait than his newest “investment,” the brooding hockey player Atlan Wolfe?

The thought alone made her lips curl into a satisfied smile. If there was one thing she knew about James Carter, it was that he hated losing. He didn’t just hate it, he took it personally. And if she could make him believe that he was losing her, losing to someone beneath him, then she would win him in the most exhilarating way possible.

Oh, the look on his face when he had spotted Atlan’s name flashing on her phone, that tiny, telling flicker of fury it had been priceless. She had staged it perfectly, leaving her phone within his reach, baiting his curiosity until he couldn’t resist. And, as she had expected, James took it. Hook, line, and sinker. Now all that remained was to reel him in further.

Seduction was an art form, and Lila had always been an artist. She had no intention of sleeping with Atlan, not really but she didn’t need to. A little playacting, a little hand on his arm, a little too much laughter at his jokes… it would be enough. More than enough to make James burn.

She brushed her hair over one shoulder, letting the soft curls cascade down, and applied a coat of red matte gloss to her lips. She smacked them together, admiring the perfect finish. God, she was beautiful. Men fell at her feet all the time, yet James Carter, James stubborn, calculating Carter was making her work for it. She almost admired him for it. Almost.

But if it was a game he wanted, she was going to play and play it to perfection.

She strapped on a leather wristwatch, flicked her wrist, and frowned. No, it didn’t match. A silver one would. She switched quickly, smiling at how it gleamed under the light, complementing her outfit, her mood, her plan.

The restaurant she had chosen wasn’t random either. De Leurs. One of the most exclusive, sought-after dining experiences in the entire country. You didn’t just walk into De Leurs, you schemed your way in, bribed your way in, or booked months in advance. She had managed to secure a table on the ground floor. Not just any table, either, but one directly beneath the VIP balcony. The very balcony where she knew James Carter would be seated tonight.

Sophia had let it slip, James had reserved a VIP table weeks ago for an important investor meeting. And Lila, clever as ever, had arranged her table so that James would have a perfect, unobstructed view of her and Atlan.

Wasn’t she brilliant?

The excitement coursing through her veins had her tapping her stiletto against the polished floor, humming under her breath. Her phone buzzed. A message from Atlan.

Atlan: Where are you? I’ve been here for almost thirty minutes.

Poor, sweet Atlan. He was useful, certainly, but terribly naive. Of course she had kept him waiting. Timing was everything. James wasn’t here yet, and her entrance needed to be timed to perfection. She wanted James to see her walk in, glide in like a goddess. Not the other way around.

Another vibration. A new message.

Waiter: Mr. Carter has arrived.

Ah, her little informant had done his job. She had slipped him a generous tip earlier, instructing him to alert her the moment James stepped through those golden double doors.

Perfect.

Lila smiled in satisfaction, gave her hair one last pat, and picked up her handbag. Tonight wasn’t just dinner. It was theater. And she was about to give James Carter the performance of a lifetime.

———————————————

“That's not possible, Mr. Heyman. The merger has to include at least sixty percent of your company’s assets.” James Carter’s voice was smooth, authoritative, but with an edge that brokered no argument.

Across from him sat a pot-bellied man with a thinning hairline and a nervous smile. Mr. Heyman dabbed at his forehead with a handkerchief.

“We understand, Mr. Carter, but most of our shares have been liquidated. The stocks are valued at less than forty percent.” He nodded toward his associate, who promptly slid a thick, yellow-bound file across the table.

James flipped it open, scanning the contents with a disinterested air. Numbers, projections, promises, it all blurred together. He looked up, pinning them both with his cool, assessing gaze.

“So tell me,” he said slowly, “why I should risk merging Carter Enterprises with a company that can’t even generate ninety percent of its projected revenue?”

The associate cleared his throat nervously. “That’s exactly why we’re proposing the merger, Mr. Carter. Together, our companies could double your expected revenue within the fiscal year.”

James leaned back in his chair, lifted his glass of whiskey, and took a deliberate sip. But the moment he glanced up, the amber liquid nearly went down the wrong pipe. He coughed, sputtering as the burn hit his throat.

Because walking through the doors wearing that red lipstick, wearing that smile was Lila.

He set his glass down a little too forcefully. Mr. Heyman jumped, fumbling to pat James on the back, but James waved him off, eyes narrowed. What the hell was she doing here? Surely she wasn’t here for him, he wasn't in the mood to put up with her gimmicks.

Then his gaze shifted.

And froze.

Because the man greeting her with a kiss on the cheek, the man she leaned into so easily was none other than Atlan f*****g Wolfe.

James’s jaw tightened. No. Absolutely not. This wasn’t coincidence. Reservations at De Leurs were rarer than diamonds. And of all the people in the world, Lila had chosen to show up here with Atlan.

“Mr. Carter? Should we continue?” Mr. Heyman’s voice pulled him back, faint and irritating.

James forced himself to nod. “Go on.”

The men droned on about assets and revenue streams, but their words blurred into static. His gaze kept drifting down to the ground floor, to Lila’s table, where she now sat close, too close to Atlan. She laughed at something he said, tilted her head, touched his hand.

And then, God help him she picked up a spoon, fed Atlan from her plate, and smiled as if she’d just handed him the moon.

James gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He wasn’t even sure why it bothered him so much. He didn’t want her, not really. He just wanted the certainty, the knowledge that she was his if he wanted her. That no one else, especially not Atlan Wolfe with his barely-holding-together hockey career, could have her.

“Mr. Carter? Mr. Carter?” The voice cut through his haze again.

“What?”

The associate cleared his throat. “We were suggesting that your team could visit our head of operations this week to… well, to verify everything.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Whatever.” James waved a hand, not taking his eyes off the floor below. “Set it up with the COO.”

The two men followed his gaze. When they realized what held his attention, Mr. Heyman chuckled nervously.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Quite the catch.”

James turned his head slowly, his eyes sharp as blades. “What did you just say?”

“I…I only meant that she seems like a lovely woman. That gentleman must be very lucky.” Mr. Heyman’s words stumbled out, shaky, fearful.

James leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his glass with deliberate calm. His lips curved, but there was no warmth in the smile.

“Yeah,” he drawled, his voice low and dangerous. “Let’s just hope his luck saves him.”

He tipped the glass back, downing the rest of the whiskey, never once taking his eyes off the floor.