Chapter 3 A Challenge Worth Pursuing

"You do realize you just caught the attention of the one man who doesn't back down, right?" Louis finally said.

Irene exhaled, eyes closed. "Ryan Winthrop? He'll move on."

Louis hummed. "You sure about that?"

She scoffed. "I'm not special."

Louis glanced at her through the rearview mirror but said nothing.

Because she was lying.

She was special, and she knew it. She just refused to accept it.

Winthrop Industries ruled the business world. I.V.Y ruled the fashion world.

Her brand wasn't just the number one fashion empire in the United States, it was a global phenomenon. From Hollywood to Paris, from Dubai to Tokyo, the elite fought to be the first to own an I.V.Y collection. Every designer envied its influence. Every luxury brand tried to compete. And yet, no one knew who owned it.

She had built it from the ground up. Alone.

A genius. That's what she was.

She had only just started, yet she was already shaking the fashion world. And the best part? No one knew.

No one knew the mastermind behind the empire that set trends and dictated luxury.

No one but her parents. And her two childhood friends Louis and Hayes.

Louis, who admired her more than he'd ever say.

But that wasn't all. Behind the scenes, Irene was more than just a fashion mogul. She was the secret weapon of the corporate world, a highly sought-after consultant whose expertise could make or break a company.

Top executives would do anything for her insight. CEOs who had no idea who she was reaped the benefits of her genius. And yet, no one in those companies not the employees, not the shareholders knew of her involvement. That was her only condition. Secrecy.

She had done in a few years what most men took decades to achieve. And she did it in the shadows, never stepping into the spotlight, never letting anyone see the woman behind the throne.

Louis stole another glance at her, watching as she gazed out the window, seemingly unbothered by everything.

Brilliant. Cold. Unshakable.

She was ridiculous.

And yet, he respected her more than anyone else.

"I was just thinking..." Louis spoke again, his voice lighter now, teasing. "You and Ryan would make an interesting pair."

Irene snorted. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, think about it." Louis shrugged. "Both of you are cut from the same cloth cold, powerful, and ruthless when it comes to your empires. You dominate your industries, intimidate the weak, and have the emotional range of a rock."

Irene rolled her eyes. "Oh, how romantic."

Louis smirked. I'm serious. You're both the type to conquer, not submit. You'd either destroy each other or rule the world together." He glanced at her before adding slyly, "Besides, even Ryan Winthrop is a fan of your work."

Irene arched a brow. "What?"

Louis's grin widened. "He was wearing I.V.Y."

She scoffed. "Which elite doesn't wear I.V.Y?"

Louis chuckled. "Still, imagine his reaction when he finds out the designer he's unknowingly obsessed with is the same woman rejecting him to his face." He shook his head. "That's going to be fun to watch."

Irene merely hummed, but there was something dangerously amused in her gaze.

Then, before Louis could bask too much in his teasing, she turned her head to him, a slow, mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Hmm." She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbow on the car's armrest, chin propped against her palm. "If thats the case, then why aren't we compatible, Louis?"

Louis stiffened.

Irene tilted her head, her eyes gleaming. "You did say I need someone on my level, didn't you?" Her voice dropped slightly, teasing, "And you're quite impressive yourself."

Louis gripped the steering wheel hard.

For the first time in the conversation, he was the one caught off guard.

A bead of cold sweat slid down his temple.

He had really walked into this one.

Irene smirked, watching his jaw clench as he kept his eyes fixed on the road. "What's wrong, Louis?" she drawled, voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Feeling shy?"

Louis let out a slow, measured breath, nostrils flaring slightly. "No."

"Then why do you look like you want to throw yourself out of this car?"

Louis gritted his teeth.

Damn it.

He should have known better. Irene never let anyone win.

She always had a comeback sharp, dangerous, and devastating.

Louis forced himself to relax. "You're not my type."

Irene gasped dramatically. "Not your type?" She placed a hand over her chest. "How cruel, Louis. I thought we had something special."

Louis clenched his jaw. "Shut up, Irene."

She smirked. "Oh, but I'm hurt. Deeply wounded." She sighed, shaking her head. "If only I knew the great Louis had such high standards."

Louis groaned, gripping the wheel even tighter. "I take it back."

Irene raised a brow. "Oh? Why so soon? I thought you were serious about my perfect match?"

Louis gave her a tight-lipped smile, one that barely hid his frustration. "Forget I said anything."

Irene leaned back, looking utterly pleased with herself. "Hmm. Not a chance."

Louis sighed heavily, mentally cursing himself for ever teasing her in the first place.

Because he knew one thing for certain

Irene would never let him live this down.

AT THE BALL

Ryan stood there even though Irene's car has disappeared into the night, the lingering echo of her presence refusing to fade. He didn't move immediately. Instead, he stood there, hands in his pockets, jaw tense.

There was something about her.

Something unsettling. And it wasn't just her beauty.

It was the way she looked at him like he was nothing. Like he didn't exist. Like he didn't matter.

She was dangerous.

Not in the way most women were.

No, Irene Lancaster was dangerous because she didn't care.

Not about him. Not about anyone.

And that, that was irritatingly fascinating.

And to think she thought she had dismissed him is amusing.

Irene Lancaster.

That woman was meticulous. She hadn't just shown up to the ball on a whim no, she had planned it.

Calculated it.

When she arrived, the event hadn't officially started. The ballroom hadn't been fully crowded yet, just a scattering of early arrivals meaning fewer eyes had been on her. And when she left? The party was in full swing, music loud, conversations flowing, guests too occupied with themselves to notice her slipping away.

Clever.

She must've thought she was in control. That she had minimized attention, kept her presence at the event from becoming a spectacle.

She was wrong.

Ryan wasn't stupid he had seen the way some people turned toward them when they were together. He knew people had noticed.

And more than that he knew some had taken pictures.

He didn't even have to check his phone to confirm it. A man like him, a woman like her it was impossible for cameras not to come out.

And he could already picture what tomorrow would look like.

Their faces. Together. Plastered all over social media.

Ryan Winthrop and Irene Lancaster?!

The cold-hearted billionaire finally meets his match!

Who is she?!

Did we just witness the start of something?!

Rumors. Speculations. Chaos.

Normally, Ryan would shut it down. He valued his privacy he had destroyed headlines before, made articles disappear, ensured that whatever he didn't want in the media never saw the light of day.

But this time?

A slow, dark smirk crept onto his lips.

He wouldn't stop it.

No, he would let it spread. Let it circulate. Let it reach her.

Because he wanted to see her reaction.

Would she care?

Would she ignore it? Would she be irritated? Would she call him?

Would she try to erase herself from the narrative?

She thinks meeting here tonight is the end.

It wasn't.

Ryan's smirk deepened.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he turned back toward the ballroom. The moment he stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.

As he moved through the crowd, people turned.

Some smiled, others whispered. A few especially women straightened their postures, their eyes lighting up at the rare sight of Ryan Winthrop at a social event.

He was the kind of man who was spoken about in hushed voices, admired from afar. Cold, untouchable, and maddeningly elusive.

And yet tonight, he was here.

A few brave souls attempted to engage him.

"Mr. Winthrop, I was wondering if..."

"Ryan, it's been a long time! How about a....."

"Mr. Winthrop, we should discuss..."

Others who had seen his ruthless side before shivered and wisely kept their distance.

He didn't stop.

He didn't slow down.

He didn't even glance at them.

He walked past them like they didn't exist.

The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea.

He had only one destination in mind.

Jason Kingsley, his best friend, the heir to the Kingsley empire and the host to this extravagant event, stood near the VIP lounge, deep in conversation with a business associate. He was leaning slightly forward, pointing at an open portfolio on the counter, his brows furrowed in concentration.

Ryan approached.

Jason, without looking up, continued speaking. "No, listen, the numbers don't add up"

Then he glanced up.

And froze.

His lips parted slightly, confusion flickering in his eyes.

And then...

He choked on his drink.

Not just a small, subtle cough.

No.

Violently.