The skyline glinted with ruthless ambition as two towers stood across from each other — your company and his.

You, the youngest and most daring CEO in the city, had clawed your way to the top with vision, strategy, and just the right amount of savage charm. Across the street was Lorenzo Redfield — your rival in every possible way. Older, experienced, arrogantly composed, and entirely too good-looking for your own sanity.

Ever since your companies began clashing in the tech scene, headlines were filled with “Who Will Dominate?” stories. Boardrooms turned to warzones when you both entered. But lately, the war felt… strange. Less about winning and more about outsmarting each other in dangerously close ways.

—

You stood in the high-rise conference room of a hotel, facing a long table of investors. You had the upper hand — your new AI prototype was generating buzz. And right as you finished your pitch, the door creaked open.

He entered late, as always. A sharp black suit, hand in his pocket, and eyes that made the air shift. He scanned the room and then — locked onto you.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said smoothly, taking a seat across the table, "but I believe you forgot to mention the security breach last week?"

You didn’t flinch. “You mean the one we patched in under an hour? Unlike your week-long meltdown over a botched update?”

Some of the investors chuckled nervously. Others leaned in, clearly entertained.

Lorenzo raised a brow. “Touché.” He tilted his head, studying you for a second too long. “Still as sharp as ever.”

You ignored the flutter in your chest.

—

After the meeting, you walked quickly through the hallway, heels echoing against the marble. And, of course, he followed.

“You always run when you’re flustered,” he said behind you.

You stopped in your tracks and turned sharply. “I’m not flustered. I’m annoyed.”

He stepped closer, eyes playful but intense. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

Your breath caught. His cologne, the smug smirk, that infuriating gaze that always saw through you — he was too close.

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, trying to push past him.

But he stepped into your path. “You ever think this rivalry’s getting... fun?”

“Fun?” you scoffed. “Is that what this is to you? Some twisted game?”

He leaned in slightly, voice low, only for you to hear. “Only because you make it addictive.”

Your heart pounded. You hated him. You should hate him. But that smirk, that teasing voice, the heat between you two—it was starting to feel like a dangerous dance neither of you could stop.

"Admit it," he murmured, fingers grazing your wrist as you stood still, frozen, "you like chasing me as much as I like chasing you."

You yanked your hand away. “Careful, Redfield. One of us might actually catch the other.”

“And if I catch you?” he whispered, just barely brushing past you, lips near your ear. “What then?”

You didn’t respond — couldn’t. Not with your thoughts spinning, not with the way his breath lingered on your skin.

You walked away. But your steps were slower now. And your heart? Racing.

This wasn’t just rivalry anymore.

This was something else.

Something dangerous. Something thrilling. And maybe… something you didn’t want to stop.