Samantha stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of her penthouse, gripping her wineglass as the city lights flickered below. Her reflection stared back at her, but all she saw was Jason's smug expression as he walked away.
She scoffed, downing the rest of her wine. "Arrogant bastard."
But why was her heart still pounding?
Why did her skin still feel like it was burning from his touch?
No. She wasn’t some lovesick girl.
She was Samantha Davenport a billionaire, a powerhouse, a woman who controlled men, not the other way around.
And yet, Jason had left her standing there, breathless.
He walked away first.
She had let him think it was a game.
But now? It was war.
---
THE NEXT MORNING – SAMANTHA’S OFFICE
Samantha’s assistant, Layla, barely set down her tablet before Samantha spoke. “
