Chapter 2 Episode 2

The elevator ride back to her office felt far too short. Raven leaned against the mirrored wall, staring at her own reflection, her mind replaying every biting exchange she'd had with Matt during the meeting. His smug grin, the way he leaned into her personal barbs as if daring her to go further-it was maddening. She hated how effortlessly he managed to get under her skin.

"Ms. Dark?" Harper's hesitant voice broke through her thoughts. The young assistant stood with her tablet clutched tightly against her chest.

"Yes?" Raven snapped, her tone sharper than intended.

Harper flinched but recovered quickly. "The PR team needs your approval for the press release about the partnership. They're waiting in the conference room."

Raven sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Of course, there was more work tied to this accursed partnership. "Fine. Give me five minutes, then send them in."

As the elevator doors opened to her floor, Raven stalked through the sleek open office, her heels clicking against the polished floors. Employees parted like the Red Sea, nodding respectfully as she passed. She appreciated their efficiency but wasn't in the mood to return their greetings.

She barely made it to her glass-walled office before Harper hurried in behind her.

"Um... there's one more thing," Harper said, biting her lip.

Raven shot her a withering look. "What now?"

"It's... Matt Hank. He called your office line while we were in the elevator."

Raven froze mid-step, her fingers tightening around the strap of her handbag. "What does he want?"

Harper shifted awkwardly. "He said something about wanting to clarify details on the partnership terms."

Raven dropped her bag onto the desk with a thud, irritation bubbling to the surface. "Of course, he did. Call him back and tell him to email me. I don't have time for his games."

Harper nodded quickly and retreated, leaving Raven alone in her office. She let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding, leaning against the edge of her desk. Why was Matt so intent on pestering her? It wasn't as if he had anything to prove-he already had everything handed to him on a silver platter.

Her office phone buzzed again, and Raven's gaze snapped to it. The caller ID flashed Hank Industries. She debated ignoring it, but the thought of Matt thinking he'd rattled her was unbearable.

With a resigned sigh, she grabbed the phone and pressed it to her ear. "Raven Dark," she said briskly.

"Raven," Matt's smooth, infuriatingly confident voice filled the line. "I was hoping to catch you. Did you enjoy our little meeting this morning?"

Her jaw clenched. "I enjoyed it as much as one enjoys dental surgery, Matt. What do you want?"

He chuckled softly, the sound like nails on a chalkboard. "Always so direct. I admire that about you. But I was calling to suggest a follow-up meeting-just the two of us. I think we need to get on the same page if this partnership is going to work."

Raven narrowed her eyes, even though he couldn't see her. "Funny, I thought we were already on the same page. I hate you, you hate me, and we'll tolerate each other for the sake of this deal. Seems pretty straightforward to me."

"Ah, but hate and love are such close cousins, don't you think?" he countered smoothly.

Her grip on the phone tightened. "Don't flatter yourself, Hank. What's the real reason for this call?"

There was a brief pause, and when Matt spoke again, his tone was lower, almost serious. "Look, I get it-you don't trust me. But this project is bigger than either of us. We both have a lot riding on it, and if we spend the entire year throwing daggers at each other, it's not going to end well. I'm offering a truce. Let's at least pretend to be civil for the sake of our companies."

Raven leaned back against her desk, considering his words. The logical part of her brain knew he was right-infighting would only make things harder. But the emotional part of her-the part that still seethed every time she thought about what his family's company had done to hers-refused to back down.

"A truce," she said slowly. "And what does this so-called truce entail?"

"Simple," Matt replied. "No personal jabs, no undermining each other in meetings, and we both make an effort to communicate without the claws out. Think of it as a professional ceasefire."

She snorted. "You're asking a lot for someone who thrives on provocation."

"And you're no saint, Raven," he shot back, his voice laced with amusement. "But I think we can manage to be... cordial."

The word hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken tension.

"I'll think about it," Raven said finally, her tone noncommittal.

"Good enough for now," Matt said. "And Raven? Try not to miss me too much."

The line went dead before she could respond, leaving her staring at the receiver in disbelief.

Miss him? The man was delusional.

She slammed the phone back onto the cradle, muttering under her breath, "Cordial, my ass."

The rest of the day passed in a blur of meetings and reports, but Matt's words lingered in the back of her mind, like an itch she couldn't scratch. A truce. Could she really trust him to keep his word?

That night, as she sipped a glass of wine on her penthouse balcony, the city lights twinkling below, Raven made a silent vow to herself.

If Matt Hank thought he could charm his way past her defenses, he was sorely mistaken. She'd play along with his little truce-for now. But the moment he showed even the slightest crack, she'd be ready to strike.

This wasn't just business. It was personal. And Raven Dark never lost.