POV: Elena Vasquez

The cab’s engine growled as I stared out the grimy window, Manhattan’s glittering skyline shrinking behind me. My heart pounded, each beat a mix of rage and something sharper: humiliation, maybe, or the sting of Alexander’s kiss still burning on my lips. The tablet’s words kept flashing in my mind: Tame the spitfire in three months, or hand over the merger. You’ve got your mark. I was a bet. A game to him and that smirking bastard, Victor Lang. I’d trusted ...