Page 11 of Tempting My Nemesis

“Do you know what you represent?” I continue, stepping even closer until our bodies nearly touch. “This isn’t just some game. This is a lifeline for you, yes, but it’s also a statement. You’re not just my investment—you're mine for 6 months.”

Her breath falters, and for a moment, her fiery spark fades, replaced by something deeper. I can see her struggle against the gravity of my words—the challenge behind them.

I feel a pang of something—pity? No, not pity—something more complicated. Something dangerous.

"You’ll get used to it," I say quietly, more to myself than to her.

She doesn’t respond immediately, just continuing to run her fingers over the dress. Finally, she looks up at me again.

"And what about us? How do we make this look real?"

"We need to learn each other’s rhythms," I say softly. "We need to anticipate each other’s moves and reactions."

Her breath hitches slightly as she nods. "Alright."

"Good." I step back, giving her a hint of room to breathe. "Remember, any slip-up could attract unwanted attention."

She swallows hard and nods again before heading toward the door.

As she leaves my office, I feel a strange mix of satisfaction and something else—something unsettling.

I stepout of the sleek black car, my hand finding the small of Zoe's back. The cameras flash, blinding us momentarily. Zoe tenses under my touch.

"Remember, just smile and stay close to me," I murmur, guiding her through the throng of reporters and onlookers.

"Easy for you to say. You're used to this," she whispers back, her voice tight with anxiety.

I scan the crowd, assessing potential threats. This is more than just a charity event—it's a battlefield of power plays and hidden agendas. And now, with Zoe by my side, the stakes are even higher.

We make our way into the opulent ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow over the sea of designer gowns and tuxedos. The air is thick with perfume and whispered conversations.

"Deep breaths," I remind Zoe as we approach a group of influential CEOs. "You've got this."

She nods, squaring her shoulders. I admire her resilience, even as I sense her discomfort.

"Caleb Steele!"

A tall figure approaches, his imposing presence amplified by a dark suit and that signature smirk that never quite reaches his cold, calculating eyes. It’s Kane Holloway—the last man I want drawing near Zoe.

He greets me like he’s still a close friend, as if nothing ever happened between us. His brazen approach only confirms how confident he feels that CipherClash, with him at the helm, can undermine everything I’ve built. There’s a dangerously fierce intelligence behind those gray eyes, always searching for a weakness.

"Who's this lovely lady?" Kane asks, feigning charm as his gaze shifts from me to Zoe.

I tighten my grip on her waist, a protective gesture that happens automatically.

“This is Zoe, my girlfriend,” I assert, making it clear that she’s off-limits.

Kane raises an eyebrow, and I can practically see the wheels turning in his head. The recognition of Zoe’s significance in my life is evident, yet so is the thinly veiled disdain.

As we mingle, I keep one eye on Zoe and another on the room, my senses heightened. She's holding her own, but I can feel the discomfort radiating off her. This world of wealth and power is foreign to her, and it shows. I don’t want Kane to think for one second that he can intimidate her.

A waiter passes with champagne, and I grab two flutes, handing one to Zoe.

“You're doing great,” I say quietly, wishing I could take her away from this charade.

She takes a sip, her green eyes meeting mine over the rim of the glass. For a moment, I see past her carefully composed facade to the delicacy beneath. I force myself to push away the unfamiliar instinct to protect her. Kane's presence is a constant reminder of the dangers lurking in the shadows, and I can't afford to show any weakness.

This is business, I remind myself. Nothing more.

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