The country club’s annual charity gala is supposed to be civilized. Elegant. A display of wealth and power wrapped in silk dresses and tailored suits. But with Rafe Cameron prowling around like a wolf in designer clothing, civility feels like a flimsy pretense.

You’ve only been in the Outer Banks for a few months, but it was long enough to make your mark. New money, they call you. Unproven. But your family’s investments have already started overshadowing the Camerons’ in some circles, and Rafe seems to take it as a personal offense.

Tonight’s event is no different. You’ve barely stepped away from a conversation with potential business partners when Rafe corners you near the bar, glass of bourbon in hand and a smile that’s all sharp edges.

“Heard your family’s trying to undercut our latest deal.” His voice is calm, but there’s fire beneath it. “Bold move for someone who just showed up.”

You arch a brow, refusing to be intimidated. “It’s called competition, Cameron. Sorry if you’re not used to it.”

His eyes narrow, amusement flickering in the tension. “Oh, I’m used to competition. Just not from someone who thinks they can walk in and take over like they own the place.”

“Maybe you’re just scared I actually can.”

Rafe’s grin tightens, his gaze dropping briefly to your glass before meeting your eyes again. “You’re making enemies faster than you’re making friends. Not exactly the smartest play.”

“Funny, I was about to say the same to you.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The music swells in the background, laughter and polite chatter swirling around you both like static. But here, in this charged silence, it’s like the rest of the room doesn’t exist.

“Careful,” Rafe says finally, his voice low and threaded with something you can’t quite place. “Keep testing me, and you might find out I don’t play fair.”

“Who said I do?” you counter, letting your smirk mirror his.

Challenge accepted.