The echo of Vanessa's heels had barely faded when silence fell across the room like a thick velvet curtain. Elise stood tall in the aftermath, but her breath came in shallow waves. Not from fear—but from the thrill of finally standing up for herself.
Silas watched her closely, eyes narrowing with something more than just admiration. Something feral.
"That was impressive," he said, voice low. "You've got more steel in you than half the men I do business with."
Elise turned to him, lips curving with quiet satisfaction. "I'm not the same girl they sold."
"No," he said, stepping closer, "you're the woman they're going to regret underestimating."
The space between them crackled. Elise could feel the heat of his body, his scent—clean, masculine, expensive—wrapping around her like smoke. He raised a hand, gently brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, fingers lingering just a second too long.
She froze—not from discomfort, but from how seen she suddenly felt. She hadn't expected this. Not from him. Not from anyone.
"You really chose me?" she asked quietly. "Back then?"
Silas's jaw tightened. "From the moment I saw what they were doing to you. You didn't beg. You didn't cry. You just stood there, silent, proud. Like a queen in chains. I bought you because I couldn't stand watching them treat you like nothing. And because I saw… potential."
Her heart thudded. "You saw a business opportunity."
"I saw a woman who could burn the world down and make me thank her for the fire."
Their eyes locked, and something shifted—no longer just transactional, no longer a game of power. For the first time, it felt like something real.
Silas leaned in. "You did well today. Now it's my turn."
Elise frowned. "Your turn for what?"
"To strike back."
He poured them both a drink, handing her a glass with that signature smirk.
"To war," he said.
Elise raised her glass, eyes gleaming.
"To revenge."
And as their glasses clinked, the flames of a partnership—dangerous, powerful, and laced with something dangerously close to love—began to blaze.