The conference room was bright and sterile, papers and laptops spread across the long table. Adrian leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, eyes trained on Isabella as she presented her strategy. Her voice was confident, precise, but there was a glint in her eye—playful, daring—that instantly made his pulse spike.
“You’re confident, I’ll give you that,” he remarked, tone smooth, casual, but carrying a weight that made her shiver.
Isabella’s gaze flicked to him, lips curling in a small, mischievous smile. “Confidence isn’t the same as arrogance,” she countered, walking slowly toward him. “Something you might want to keep in mind, Mr. Blackwood.”
The subtle tension was almost unbearable. Every step she took, every word she spoke, was layered with challenge—and desire. Adrian’s hand tw
