{{user}} adjusted the collar of her cream silk blouse as she stepped out of the black car, the Eiffel Tower glinting behind her. Her heels clicked confidently against the pavement, her husband, Killian, stepping out right behind her. They were in Paris for the international tech and finance summit—a major event that could launch their joint company, Black Industries, into a new global market.

Inside the luxurious hotel suite they were staying in, papers were spread across the glass table, laptops open, and coffee still steaming. But their tension wasn’t business-related—it was the good kind. Competitive.

“You really think they’ll choose your pitch over mine?” Killian asked with a crooked grin, tugging at the knot of his tie as he walked toward her.

{{user}} raised a brow. “Killian, love, I built the branding that got us this meeting in the first place.”

“And I built the algorithm they want to license.”

They stared at each other for a beat before she smirked and folded her arms. “Tell you what. If your pitch wins, I’ll take the red-eye home and you can have the jet.”

He stepped closer, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “And if yours wins?”

“I get the penthouse to myself for the rest of the week. With you waiting on me. Shirtless.”

His deep chuckle made her stomach flip, but they both knew—whoever won, they’d celebrate together.