Chapter 2

I don’t like being challenged.

Especially not in my own game.

And right now, standing a few steps away from her, I could already tell—this wasn’t going to be a normal negotiation.

Thea Claire Smith didn’t look away.

Most people do. They either try too hard to hold eye contact or break it first. It’s predictable. Easy to read.

She wasn’t.

She held my gaze like it didn’t cost her anything. Like she’d done this before. Like I wasn’t the most dangerous person in the room.

That alone made her a problem.

“You’ve been digging,” she said, her voice calm, almost uninterested.

“I call it preparation.”

She tilted her head slightly, studying me. “Preparation usually comes with caution.”

“I’m not known for being cautious.”

“I noticed.”

A faint smirk touched her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

Behind her, the three men stayed quiet. Good. They finally understood this wasn’t their conversation anymore.

I took another step closer, closing the distance just enough to make it clear I wasn’t here to play polite.

“You’re connected to the company I’m acquiring,” I said. “That makes you part of my business.”

“Your business?” she repeated softly.

“Yes.”

She let out a quiet breath, like I’d just said something mildly amusing.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Mr. Torecampo.”

Her tone didn’t change. Still calm. Still controlled.

But there was something under it now.

Something sharper.

“You don’t acquire things that don’t belong to you.”

“I disagree,” I replied. “Everything belongs to someone. It just depends on who’s strong enough to take it.”

A small pause.

Then she stepped closer.

Not back.

Closer.

Now we were standing within reach of each other.

Dangerous distance.

“You think this is about strength?” she asked quietly.

“I know it is.”

Her eyes locked on mine, and for the first time, I saw it clearly.

Not fear.

Not hesitation.

Something darker.

“You walked into something you don’t understand,” she said. “And instead of stepping back, you’re pushing further.”

“That’s how I get results.”

“That’s how people disappear.”

Silence.

The air shifted.

Not loud. Not obvious. But heavy enough to feel.

I didn’t move.

Neither did she.

“Are you threatening me?” I asked.

“No,” she said simply. “I’m telling you what happens.”

I studied her for a second longer, then let out a quiet breath.

“Good,” I said.

Her brows pulled together slightly. “Good?”

“I was starting to think this would be boring.”

That was the first time her expression changed.

Not much.

Just a flicker.

Interest.

“Boring,” she repeated. “You have a strange definition of that.”

“I have high standards.”

“And you think I meet them?”

“I think you’re the reason this deal is complicated.”

“And that makes me interesting?”

“That makes you necessary.”

Another pause.

Her lips curved slightly, but this time there was no softness in it.

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“I already did.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then she stepped back.

Not because she had to.

Because she chose to.

“Then let’s make something clear,” she said, her voice steady again. “That company you’re trying to take? It’s not just numbers on paper. It’s tied to people you don’t want to cross.”

“I’ve crossed worse.”

“You haven’t crossed us.”

There it was.

Not hidden anymore.

Not indirect.

Us.

“Volkov,” I said.

She didn’t confirm it.

Didn’t deny it either.

Smart.

“You shouldn’t say names you don’t understand,” she replied.

“I understand enough.”

“No,” she said quietly. “You really don’t.”

I watched her for a second, then glanced at the men behind her.

“They’re not the ones making decisions, are they?” I asked.

“No.”

“You are.”

She didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a folded document, placing it on the table beside us.

“The deal goes through in forty-eight hours,” I said. “You can either be part of it… or get in the way.”

Her eyes dropped briefly to the paper, then back to me.

“And if I choose to get in the way?”

I met her gaze without hesitation.

“Then I remove the obstacle.”

Silence filled the room again.

This time, it lasted longer.

Then she laughed.

Soft.

Unexpected.

“You really believe that,” she said.

“I don’t believe,” I replied. “I act.”

She shook her head slightly, like she couldn’t decide if I was serious or just arrogant.

“Do you even hear yourself?” she asked. “You walk into a room, threaten people you don’t know, and expect everything to fall into place.”

“It usually does.”

“Then you’ve been lucky.”

“I don’t rely on luck.”

Her expression hardened just a little.

“Then maybe it’s time you learn what it feels like to lose control.”

Something in my chest tightened.

Not discomfort.

Not fear.

Something else.

Something I didn’t like.

I ignored it.

“I don’t lose control,” I said.

Her eyes held mine for a second longer.

Then she stepped closer again, just enough for her voice to drop lower.

“Everyone does,” she whispered. “They just don’t know it yet.”

For a split second, everything around us disappeared.

The noise.

The people.

The room.

Just her voice.

Her presence.

Too close.

Too real.

I stepped back first.

Not because I had to.

Because I chose to.

That mattered.

It always does.

“You’re done here,” I said, my tone colder now.

Her expression didn’t change.

“No,” she replied. “You are.”

Before I could respond, she turned away.

Just like that.

No hesitation.

No second look.

She walked toward the exit like the conversation was over.

Like I wasn’t worth staying for.

That didn’t sit well with me.

“Stop.”

She didn’t.

Of course she didn’t.

I moved before I could think better of it, closing the distance in a few steps and catching her wrist.

The moment my hand touched her, everything went still.

She froze.

Not in fear.

In reaction.

Slowly, she looked down at where I was holding her.

Then back at me.

Her eyes weren’t calm anymore.

They were sharp.

Cold.

Dangerous.

“Let go,” she said quietly.

“No.”

That was my second mistake.

The shift was instant.

Her free hand moved faster than I expected, twisting my grip just enough to break it without force.

Clean. Precise.

Trained.

Before I could react, she stepped back, putting distance between us again.

“Don’t touch me,” she said.

Not loud.

But final.

I stared at her for a second, then let out a low breath.

“Noted.”

She adjusted her sleeve like nothing happened, her composure already back in place.

“You don’t listen well,” she added.

“I listen when it matters.”

“And this doesn’t?”

I held her gaze.

“No,” I said. “This is just the beginning.”

A small pause.

Then she gave me that same faint, unreadable smile.

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

She turned again, walking out without stopping this time.

The door closed behind her.

Silence.

The kind that lingers.

I stood there for a moment longer before glancing at the table, at the document I left behind.

Untouched.

Of course.

I let out a quiet breath, running a hand through my hair.

This wasn’t supposed to go like this.

It was supposed to be simple.

Clean.

Controlled.

It wasn’t.

And the worst part?

I didn’t hate it.

I picked up the folder, flipping it open to her photo again.

Same eyes.

Same expression.

But now it was different.

Because I’d seen her in front of me.

Heard her voice.

Felt the way she pushed back without hesitation.

Dangerous.

Unpredictable.

Exactly the kind of complication I don’t need.

And the kind I don’t walk away from.

I closed the folder slowly.

“Find everything,” I said without looking up.

My assistant, who had stayed silent the entire time, nodded quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“Not just records,” I added. “People. Movements. Patterns. I want to know where she is before she decides to show up again.”

“Yes, sir.”

I turned back toward the door she walked out of.

A small part of me already knew this wasn’t over.

Not even close.

Because something about her didn’t feel like a coincidence.

It felt like a problem that was going to follow me whether I wanted it to or not.

And if there’s one thing I don’t do—

It’s ignore a problem.

I deal with it.

Directly.

Even if it means stepping into a world I don’t belong in.

Especially then.