The rain had stopped by the time Selene entered the glass tower, but the city still glistened with the sheen of a storm just passed. Puddles reflected the skyscrapers in fractured, silver pools, and the streetlamps threw long, distorted shadows on the slick pavement. The world looked like it had been scrubbed clean—only Selene knew better. Some stains didn't wash away with rain.
The air inside the building was crisp and faintly perfumed with lilies from the lobby's floral arrangements. She hated lilies. Too sweet. Too soft. But it was exactly the kind of detail Julian preferred—something meant to project refinement and warmth, even when the person behind the choice was ice-cold calculation. It was one of the many ways they were alike, though she would never admit it to him.
Her heels clicked against the marble as she stepped toward the private elevator. She didn't need to look around to know people's eyes followed her—half out of admiration, half out of fear. The "Ice Queen" wasn't just a nickname whispered behind her back anymore. It was a badge she wore into every meeting, every negotiation, every silent war fought with glances instead of words.
The elevator doors slid open, and there he was.
Julian.
He leaned casually against the mirrored wall, his suit jacket unbuttoned, the deep navy fabric framing the pale gleam of his shirt. No tie today. A calculated choice, she suspected, to appear less guarded, more approachable. She wasn't fooled. That loosened collar was a wolf letting you see its teeth.
"Selene," he said, his voice smooth, almost warm—but with that undertone, the faint chill that reminded her he didn't speak without purpose. "I was just about to call you."
"How efficient of fate," she replied, stepping in without breaking stride. The elevator doors closed with a soft sigh.
They didn't speak for the first three floors. The hum of the machinery, the faint scent of his cologne—sharp, dark, with a whisper of spice—pressed against her senses. It made her pulse quicken, though she hated herself for noticing.
Finally, he spoke. "Camille's been making moves."
Selene's gaze flicked toward him. "Specifics."
"She's been in contact with two board members—Lowell and Chen." He paused, letting the names sink in. "She's promising them 'stability' if she gains majority control. And she's dangling… incentives."
Selene gave a humorless smile. "Incentives. That's a delicate word for bribes."
"Bribes are for amateurs," Julian said, his voice low. "Camille plays with people's ambitions. She makes them feel like they're not selling out—they're leveling up."
It was exactly what Selene had feared. Camille wasn't just after the company. She was after the people who kept it standing.
"Why tell me this now?" Selene asked. "You've known for days."
Julian's eyes found hers, steady and unreadable. "Because you've been avoiding me. And because you'll need my help to stop her."
The elevator chimed at the top floor. The moment the doors opened, they stepped into the soft hush of Julian's private offices. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the far wall, revealing the city skyline under the pale light of early evening.
She followed him into the conference room. The table gleamed like black glass, and the chairs were set with military precision. A folder sat in the center, thick with documents. Julian slid it toward her.
"Camille's expansion plans," he said. "She's planning to launch a media division before the quarter ends."
"That's reckless," Selene said, flipping through the pages. "We're still consolidating after the merger."
"That's the point," Julian replied. "She wants the chaos. She thrives in it."
Selene looked up sharply. "And you're telling me this because…?"
"Because if she succeeds, we both lose." Julian stepped closer, his shadow falling across the documents. "And if she fails, it has to be on our terms—not hers."
She closed the folder, her fingers brushing the polished surface of the table. "Then we work together. Temporarily."
His mouth curved into something almost like a smile. "Temporarily."
They stood there for a moment, the tension thickening between them—not just professional, but something deeper, older. There were things neither of them said. Things neither dared to admit. Not here.
---
The alliance was struck that evening, but it was an alliance in name only. Trust was still a currency neither was willing to spend.
Over the next week, Selene and Julian moved like dancers in a dangerous waltz. Publicly, they were united—a force of calm control in the face of Camille's rising influence. Privately, every conversation was a battle of veiled truths.
Camille, meanwhile, made no effort to hide her growing power. She swept into meetings in bold colors and sharper words, her laughter ringing like the toll of a warning bell. Marcus was never far from her side, though lately his eyes seemed less certain when they lingered on her.
One Thursday afternoon, Selene caught him alone in the hallway outside the boardroom.
"Marcus," she said.
He stopped, the briefcase in his hand tightening ever so slightly. "Selene."
"You've been quiet lately," she observed. "Unusual for you."
His jaw tightened. "Maybe I've had nothing worth saying."
"That's never stopped you before," she replied. "So what's changed? Camille? Or you?"
He didn't answer right away, and that told her more than words could. Finally, he said, "Be careful, Selene. She's not just playing the board. She's playing all of us."
Before she could reply, he was gone.
---
The breaking point came during the next board meeting.
Camille presented her media division proposal with the smooth confidence of someone who already believed she had won. The slides were sleek, the projections ambitious. She spoke of growth, innovation, and "a bold new direction for the company's future."
When she finished, a murmur of approval rippled through the room.
Selene rose.
"Ambitious," she said. "And entirely unrealistic."
Camille's smile didn't falter. "Do elaborate."
Selene did. With surgical precision, she dismantled the proposal—pointing out inflated revenue projections, glossed-over risks, and strategic oversights. Each sentence was a scalpel, and by the time she finished, Camille's smile had thinned.
But before Selene could savor the moment, Julian spoke.
"I agree with Camille," he said, his tone calm, measured. "If we want to stay competitive, we need to take risks."
The air in the room shifted. Selene felt the ground beneath her tilt.
Julian glanced at her, his eyes saying something his words did not. This wasn't betrayal—it was strategy. She just didn't know whose side that strategy was meant to serve.
Camille's smile returned in full force.
And Selene realized, with a cold twist in her gut, that the boardroom war had only just begun.