Isla’s POV

The moment Isla stepped into Sinclair Enterprises that morning, she knew she had a target on her back.

Grayson Sinclair wouldn’t let yesterday go unanswered.

Men like him didn’t enjoy being challenged—especially in front of their own executives. He was going to test her today, push her, see if she would break.

Too bad for him, Isla Carter didn’t break.

She had barely made it to her office when the sharp click of heels echoed behind her.

“Elena Monroe,” Isla greeted smoothly, turning to face the woman approaching.

Elena was Sinclair Enterprises’ Chief Operating Officer—one of the most powerful women in the company and a known loyalist to Grayson Sinclair. With her flawless tailored suit, sleek auburn hair, and ice-cold efficiency, she was the kind of executive people feared—and respected.

“Miss Carter,” Elena said, voice crisp and professional. She handed Isla a thick folder. “The CEO has a request.”

Isla opened it to find a comprehensive analysis on Sinclair’s international expansion risks.

Due by noon.

She barely held back a smirk. So this was how Grayson wanted to play.

If he thought burying her in impossible deadlines would throw her off, he was in for a surprise.

“I’ll handle it,” Isla said, tucking the folder under her arm.

Elena gave her a knowing glance before walking away.

Alright, Sinclair. Let’s play.

---

By 11:55 a.m., Isla strode into Grayson’s office, dropping the completed report onto his desk without a word.

Grayson looked up from his laptop, his storm-gray eyes flicking to the folder before meeting hers.

His expression was unreadable, but she swore she caught the slightest flicker of amusement.

“You actually finished it,” he mused.

She crossed her arms. “You expected me to fail?”

His lips twitched. “No. I expected you to cut corners.”

Isla lifted her chin. “Unlike some people, I don’t make reckless decisions based on gut instinct alone.”

Something dark and intrigued flickered in his gaze.

“Careful, Miss Carter. That almost sounded like an insult.”

She smirked. “Just an observation.”

The tension between them thickened, stretching in the air like an invisible thread.

Grayson studied her for a long moment before leaning back in his chair. “Not bad.”

Isla arched a brow. “Is that a compliment?”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. “Don’t push your luck.”

She turned to leave, but just as she reached the door—

“Oh, and Miss Carter?”

She paused.

“There’s a company gala this weekend,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “It would be… beneficial for you to attend.”

She glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze. “Beneficial for me, or for you?”

His smirk deepened.

“You’ll have to come and find out.”

Isla walked out without answering, but she already knew one thing—this game had only just begun.

---

Grayson’s POV

Grayson leaned back in his chair, watching Isla Carter’s retreating figure.

He hated to admit it, but she had impressed him.

He had expected her to struggle, to slip up—but instead, she had delivered a flawless report ahead of schedule.

Most people—especially newcomers—would have panicked, rushed, made mistakes. But not Isla. She had analyzed, calculated, executed.

And that was rare.

Still, this wasn’t just about the report.

This was about control.

He had built Sinclair Enterprises with power, strategy, and dominance. He didn’t share control—not with the board, not with competitors, and definitely not with a woman who had walked in thinking she could fix him.

Yet she didn’t fear him the way others did.

No hesitant stammering. No nervous glances. No desperate need to win his approval.

She challenged him.

And the worst part?

He liked it. Too much.

Grayson exhaled, rolling his pen between his fingers.

That was a problem.

He didn’t mix business with pleasure. Ever.

But when Isla had looked at him—fire in her eyes, daring him to push her further—he had felt something shift.

Something dangerous.

The way she had said, “Beneficial for me, or for you?” had sent a slow, unwelcome heat curling in his stomach.

Damn her.

He was going to test her at the gala. See how she handled the political games, the power plays.

But the real question was—whose limits would break first?

Grayson smirked to himself.

Game on.