Chapter 3: The Game Begins

Travis’ POV

The moment she walked in, I knew I had her attention.

She didn’t stop, didn’t falter, but I saw the way her body tensed, the split-second hesitation in her step before she continued forward like she hadn’t just noticed me sitting in her building.

Interesting.

Sophia Moreau wasn’t the kind of woman who hesitated.

She was the type who walked into a room and owned it without needing to say a damn word. The kind of woman who had built an empire from the ground up, surrounded by men who had probably spent their entire lives underestimating her—until she destroyed them.

And yet, here she was.

Still. For just a second too long.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she strode toward the glass doors of her private office, and I leaned back in my chair, stretching out my legs like I had all the time in the world.

She disappeared inside without acknowledging me.

I smirked.

That was fine.

I could wait.

I hadn’t planned on showing up here.

Not exactly.

After last night’s gala, I had convinced myself that whatever had pulled me toward her was just a passing intrigue—one of those fleeting sparks that meant nothing.

I had been wrong.

Because I had woken up thinking about her.

And when something got into my head, I didn’t ignore it.

I followed it.

And that’s what had brought me here—to Moreau Dynamics, a place that, under normal circumstances, I would have had no business being in.

I didn’t do public business.

My company, Cole International, didn’t operate in the same circles as Moreau Dynamics. Our worlds shouldn’t have overlapped.

But that was the thing about power. If you had enough of it, you could place yourself anywhere you damn well pleased.

And today?

I had decided to place myself here.

The receptionist had barely looked at me when I walked in. I had that effect on people. There was something about knowing you belonged everywhere that made people hesitate before questioning you.

I had taken a seat in the lobby, waiting.

And now?

Now I had her attention.

The glass doors to her office swung open again, and this time, she didn’t pretend she hadn’t seen me.

She walked straight toward me, every movement precise, controlled.

I stood as she reached me, letting my smirk tug at the corner of my lips. “Morning, sweetheart.”

Her expression didn’t shift. Not even a flicker of amusement. “What are you doing here?”

No pleasantries. No how nice to see you.

I liked that about her.

I slipped my hands into my pockets. “Thought I’d drop by. Get a tour.”

She exhaled sharply, like I was already exhausting her. “You’re either lost or delusional.”

I grinned. “I get that a lot.”

Her gaze flicked over me, calculating. I wondered what conclusions she was drawing about why I was here. She wouldn’t ask outright—no, she was too smart for that. Instead, she’d piece it together, find a way to make me show my hand first.

Too bad for her—I never did.

“You don’t do random,” she finally said, folding her arms. “You don’t just drop by places without a reason. So, tell me, Cole—what game are you playing?”

I tilted my head. “You assume it’s a game.”

She smirked, but there was no warmth in it. “With men like you? It always is.”

Something in my chest tightened. Not irritation. Something else.

She was right, of course.

But what she didn’t understand was that this wasn’t like my usual games.

This wasn’t about adding her name to some list, proving a point, or checking a box.

This was about her.

I just hadn’t figured out why yet.

I shrugged, keeping my expression unreadable. “Maybe I’m just curious.”

Her eyes darkened. “Curious about what?”

I took a step closer, dropping my voice just enough to let the air between us shift.

“You.”

It was a simple word. No embellishment, no arrogance. Just truth.

And for the first time since she had walked over here, I saw something flicker in her eyes that wasn’t irritation or dismissal.

It was wariness.

Good.

That meant she felt it, too.

I let the silence stretch between us, waiting for her to fill it.

She didn’t.

Instead, she inhaled deeply, like she was resetting herself, then said, “If this is some attempt to impress me, don’t bother.”

I grinned. “Who says I’m trying to impress you?”

Her jaw tightened. “If you’re here for business, go through the proper channels. If you’re here for anything else—you’re wasting your time.”

She turned to leave, but I wasn’t done.

“Do I make you nervous, Moreau?”

She froze.

And for the first time, I saw her hesitate.

It was subtle. So quick that if I hadn’t been watching her closely, I might have missed it.

But I had been watching.

She turned back to me, her expression smooth, unreadable once more. “Not even remotely.”

Liar.

I let my smirk widen. “We’ll see about that.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Stay out of my way, Cole.”

And just like that, she walked away.

I let my gaze follow her, watching the way she moved, the way she didn’t look back.

I should have left it there. Should have let her walk away, filed this under interesting, but not worth the effort.

But something about her—something sharp, something I hadn’t felt in a long time—had already hooked into me.

She thought she was untouchable.

She thought she was unreadable.

And maybe she was.

But I had never been one to walk away from a challenge.

And Sophia Moreau?

She was the most interesting challenge I’d ever met.