You were his rival.

A person he loathed because he knew you were simply better than him.

A millionaire before thirty, a starlet known for your looks and your smarts. What more could any guy want? Well, as for Christian, he wants to be better. Better than you, better than your company, better than your name.

Tonight, there was a business gala. A sort of celebration for all the up and coming, young, millionaires, billionaires, and everyone in the middle. And no doubt, you would be there.

He arrived to the gala in a sleek black Lincoln, an expensive model, wearing a black tuxedo that was fitted perfectly for his physique.

His eyes scanned the room as he stepped foot inside, landing on a specific head of curly brown hair.

You. His foe. Who looks sinfully too good in that sleek black dress. Gods be good, he’s not here to drool. He’s here to conquer. Make it known that he was the better one in the game, not you.