The Game begins

Kevin's Pov

I didn’t need a secretary. I was fine on my own. The last one had already proven how incompetent people could be, and I wasn’t eager to repeat that mistake. I could run this company without anyone’s assistance—I always had.

So when Mr. Smith walked in with her, I was already irritated.

Not what I was expecting.

She looked… fragile, but not in a way that screamed weakness. There was something unbreakable about her too, and that contradiction annoyed me. Her face? Decent. Attractive enough, I supposed, though nothing extraordinary.

But the dress—God.

A black gown. It clung to her body, dipping just enough to expose some cleavage. Too short. Far too short. The only redeeming thing about it was the long sleeves. Bold—too bold. Who the hell comes dressed like that? Who was she trying to impress? The whole outfit screamed inappropriate, unprofessional. Disgusting.

And then there was the staring.

She couldn’t stop looking at me. Her gaze clung to mine like she was trying to place me. Like we’d met before. Impossible. I only associated with people of my caliber—wealth, power, influence. Meeting me would have been an honor for her.

Her eyes didn’t waver. Fear was in there, but something else too.

“Why the fuck do you keep staring at me like that?” I asked, my tone low and sharp.

Silence stretched for a beat before she finally found her voice.

“I wasn’t staring… I was observing,” she said. Steady now, fear dissolving as if she caught herself slipping.

Interesting.

“Step out,” I ordered.

The shock on her face was clear, but she didn’t argue. She turned and walked out, her back straight, almost defiant.

Mr. Smith cleared his throat. “Well… what do you think, sir?”

“What’s there to think?” I returned to my seat. “I don’t need a secretary. I don’t need anyone.”

“Your grandmother was convinced she’d ease your workload, Mr. Blackwood. She believes—”

“And who the hell told you—or anyone—that I needed help?” I cut him off. “I’ve been running this company just fine. Alone.”

He hesitated. “Yes, sir. She was only trying to—”

“It’s fine. Leave the file,” I interrupted, dismissing him.

He placed it on my desk and stepped out.

Ameera Parker.

The name looked as ordinary as the contents of her file. Nothing remarkable. No elite schools. No prestigious internships. Boring. Forgettable.

I tossed it aside. I had better things to do.

---

Hours later, my phone rang. Mr. Wolfe.

CEO of The Wolfe Empire.

If there was anything I despised, it was my father’s old friends—leeches who called themselves associates. Ruthless men who pretended to care but lived for money and power. They never really cared how anyone was doing. Neither did I.

Maybe it was business that made us this way; it was just a matter of who actually handled it the best.

I did.

I answered anyway. “Yes, Mr. Wolfe?”

“Kevin… how are you doing?” His voice oozed false warmth.

“Kindly go straight to the point. What do you want?” I asked.

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin,” he chuckled. “Why so rude to your uncle?”

Uncle? Spare me.

“Your assistant tells me you refused to meet with my team. That was unwise. This could benefit us both.”

“No,” I said flatly. “It would only benefit you. Don’t insult me by pretending otherwise.”

“Careful, little boy,” he snapped, his tone shifting. “Your pride will cost you opportunities. You know your father—”

“My father is dead,” I cut in, voice cold. “Don’t bring him into this. We’re in the present, Wolfe. Stay there.”

There was silence, then a forced laugh. “You’re right. I’ll speak with you some other time, Blackwood."

The line went dead.

Pathetic. A bunch of fools, clinging to power they no longer had.

---

“Kevin.”

Caden Reynolds strolled in—sharp suit, tie loose, as if he owned the room. He was one of the few people who could come in without knocking. My friend, my occasional headache.

He dropped into a chair and threw his legs onto my desk.

“And who’s that sexy-looking young lady outside your office?”

“Why are you here?” I asked flatly.

“Why do you act like you don’t love me?” he grinned.

“Get your filthy legs off my table.”

“Yeesh. Someone’s in a mood.” He lowered his feet, still grinning. “So… you didn’t answer me. Who’s the lady?”

“No one. Just a secretary.My grandmother hired her. Not me.”

“Your grandma’s got taste, man.” He smirked.

“Again—why are you here?”

“Your uncle.” He made air quotes. “He asked me to talk to you about his project.”

“And why the hell would I listen to you?”

“I knew you wouldn’t. I told him the same thing.” He threw his hands up, then leaned forward. “I actually came to tell you something better.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Talk.”

“There’s a European group circling New York,” he said. “Buying up failing hotels—turning them into smart luxury hubs. Not just eco crap. We’re talking tech-driven: transport, security, the whole package. They want to expand here. The only problem? No distribution.”

“Me,” I said flatly.

“Exactly.” Caden’s grin widened. “You’ve got the cars. You’ve got the hotels. You cut a deal with them, you don’t just stay in the game—you run the table. Wolfe? He’ll be crawling for scraps.”

I leaned back. Control of cars. Hotels. And now—people’s movement. Travel, stay, every step under my hand. The empire tightening like a noose.

“Distribution rights?” I asked.

“Exclusive.” His smile turned sharp. “But here’s the catch—they’re talking to a group in L.A. If you want this, you have to move fast. Cut off everyone else. Bleed them out.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He lounged back in the chair, too casual. A lie—I knew it. Caden was the most calculated man I knew. But I didn’t push.

“What, can’t I help my one and only friend?” he said, putting his hand to his chest. “Well, I have to go. I’ll text you the details… or maybe I’ll just send them through your secretary.” He winked as he stood up and left.

“Fool,” I muttered under my breath.

---

Hours later

“Mr. Blackwood?” a voice called from outside.

I pressed the button on my desk, and the door slid open.

Her.

My secretary.

She stepped in cautiously. “Sir, can I talk to you?”

I leaned back, scanning her from head to toe. “Hmm. What do you want, Parker?”

She shifted, rubbing her hands together, nerves clear on her face. “I… I need a favor,”