“You’re mistaken. I didn’t authorize a cut like that.”
“Someone at your firm did. And it wasn’t just Vanguard. You’ve done it with several. You’re cheating. I think an insider is feeding you intel so you can benefit.”
He steps closer. “You’re making a lot of excuses for losing.”
“Excuse me?”
He leans in. “It’s business. And Big Stream doesn’t just compete—we set the pace.”
“Is that your tagline or your Tinder bio?”
“Depends on the match.”
“You’re such a cocky bastard,” I say.
“And you’re even more beautiful when you’re pissed.” His lips curl. “Tell me, Adams—when’s the last time you lost a deal to someonelessqualified?”
My jaw tightens.
“That’s what I thought.”
For a second, we just look at each other. Not talking. Not blinking. He’s too close. Too full of himself. Too… right there.
I move to walk away. He blocks me.
“Look, the industry is just a game. And if you’re not willing to play it…” His eyes dive into mine. “Then you’ve already lost.”
I smile sweetly. “Oh, you want to play then?”
“With you,” he says. “Absolutely.”
“Okay,” I start, looking up at him through my lashes. “Then let’s play, asshole.”
I push past him, cider forgotten, blood buzzing.
His eyes are still on me. I can feel them—hot, heavy, tracking every step.
And God help me, I kind of want to turn back around.
But fuck that. I’m not trading pride for a pair of perfect hands and a mouth that ruins reason.
I don’t care how good his lips felt on my skin or how they made my pussy tingle.
Let him watch me walk away.
Let himfeelit.
Because if he wants another taste, he’s gonna have toearn it.
CHAPTER 11
STRATEGIC ANNIHILATION
NOLAN
Coffee warmsmy palms as I lean against the front window of the café near my loft—one of those places with mismatched chairs and baristas who judge your order on sight.
Outside, the city hums to life in that familiar, bustling tune. The skyline’s softened by morning haze, but my head’s still hung up on the girl with the cider and the claws.
