Grayson’s POV

Grayson had made a mistake.

Letting Isla Carter get under his skin was dangerous. But letting her get this close—challenging him, testing his patience, making him second-guess his own instincts—was worse.

He sat in his penthouse office, staring out at the city skyline, whiskey in hand, but his mind was stuck on her. The way she didn’t flinch under pressure. The fire in her eyes when she accused him of protecting Victoria.

She had no idea how close she was to the truth.

His grip tightened around the glass. Victoria wasn’t just a corporate rival. She was a problem. One he should have dealt with long before now. But something about Isla charging in, demanding answers, made everything more complicated.

The warning call she received had been a mistake. Too soon. Too obvious. Victoria usually played a long game. If she was sending threats already, it meant Isla was on the right track—too close to something she shouldn’t see.

And the worst part?

Grayson wanted her to keep digging.

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Isla’s POV

If someone thought a warning call was enough to scare Isla Carter off, they had severely underestimated her.

She wasn’t backing down. Not now.

Sitting in her office, Isla scanned the files she had pulled from Sinclair Enterprises’ investment records. There were inconsistencies—money shifting in and out of shell companies, transactions disguised as failed ventures. It was subtle, but it reeked of deliberate manipulation.

And there was one name that kept appearing. Victoria Langley.

A knock on her door made her tense. She expected an assistant or a board member checking in. Not Grayson.

Not the man whose presence set her pulse into overdrive.

He stepped inside, his movements controlled, as if he were holding something back. The air between them was always thick—unspoken challenges, electric tension, a push-and-pull neither of them fully understood.

“You’re still digging.” His voice was low, unreadable.

She lifted an eyebrow. “I thought that’s what you hired me for.”

“I hired you to fix the company. Not to put a target on your back.”

She stood, closing the folder. “If there’s a target, it’s because there’s something to hide.”

He took a step closer. Too close.

His scent—expensive cologne, whiskey, and something undeniably masculine—wrapped around her. His presence was a force, impossible to ignore.

“You think you can handle this, but you don’t know what you’re up against,” he murmured.

“Then tell me.”

His jaw clenched. A storm flickered in his dark eyes, something unspoken, dangerous.

But before he could respond, his phone rang.

Annoyance flashed across his face as he pulled it out, answering with a clipped, “What?”

A pause. Then, something shifted in his expression—something sharp.

He ended the call, his gaze locking onto hers. “Come with me.”

She frowned. “Where?”

He was already grabbing his suit jacket. “If you want to know what you’re up against, you’re about to find out.”

The drive was silent. Tension hung thick between them, the unspoken weight of whatever Grayson wasn’t saying pressing down on them both.

They pulled up to a high-end restaurant—the kind where business deals were made over thousand-dollar wine and unspoken threats.

Isla followed Grayson inside, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The hostess barely had time to greet them before he murmured a name. A private room. A secret meeting.

And then, they stepped inside.

Sitting at the table, sipping a glass of red wine like she had all the time in the world, was Victoria Langley.

She looked up, her perfectly painted lips curving into a slow, knowing smile.

“Well, well,” she murmured, setting down her glass. “This is unexpected.”

Isla could feel Grayson tense beside her.

And for the first time, she realized something—

This wasn’t just a corporate game. This was war.