Chapter 2 2

The First Move

Rosie stood in front of her full-length mirror, smoothing her hands over the dress she'd chosen for the fitting- a deep navy wrap dress that whispered elegance but screamed distance. No way was she giving Lucas any more ammunition than he already had.

Her boutique had closed early for the day, and she'd spent the last hour double-checking the pieces she was bringing to the Blake Enterprises penthouse for the fitting. She wanted to keep things professional, brisk, detached. But her reflection showed someone rattled beneath the surface-a woman who couldn't stop remembering the last time Lucas had looked at her the way he had yesterday.

Her driver pulled up to the private residence entrance of the Blake building, and Rosie gathered her garment bags and portfolio, her pulse steadying as she stepped out.

The elevator ride was silent, except for the quiet hum of her own nerves.

When the doors opened on the top floor, a butler in a sharp uniform greeted her.

"Ms. Kirkland, right this way. Mr. Blake is expecting you."

Of course he was.

She stepped into the penthouse, eyes sweeping across the modern luxury-dark leather, clean steel, glass walls framing the New York skyline. It was everything Lucas: sharp, powerful, untouchable.

Except Lucas himself stood at the bar, sleeves rolled up, nursing a tumbler of scotch. He turned when she entered, eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of amusement and calculation.

"Right on time," he said, his voice smooth as silk.

"I'm here to work," Rosie replied coolly, setting the garment bags down by the plush sofa. "Let's keep it simple."

Lucas sauntered over, eyeing the bags. "Is that the masterpiece?"

She unzipped the first one, revealing the scarlet gown, and watched his eyes narrow with sharp appreciation.

"Bold," he murmured. His fingers brushed the fabric- deliberate, slow. "This'll turn every head in the room."

"That's the idea," Rosie said briskly, ignoring the shiver that danced across her skin. "Now, I need you to try it on."

Lucas arched a brow. "Me? In this?"

She rolled her eyes. "The tuxedo, Lucas. Don't be a child."

He smirked but complied, disappearing into his room with the tuxedo she'd designed-a custom fit, sharp lines, midnight black with subtle velvet lapels. Every stitch was meant to make him look untouchable.

He returned a few minutes later, adjusting his cufflinks. Rosie froze, her breath catching despite herself.

God, he looked... dangerous.

"Well?" he drawled, catching her staring. "Do I pass?"

She cleared her throat and forced herself to step closer, tugging slightly at the lapels, adjusting the fit on his broad shoulders. She kept her fingers light, professional, but every brush of contact sent unwanted sparks racing through her.

"It fits," she said tightly, stepping back. "It'll be ready by Friday."

Lucas's eyes burned into hers, reading everything she was trying to hide.

"Good," he said softly. "Because after Friday... we make our first move."

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

He moved closer, lowering his voice. "This isn't just about the gala, Rosie. We're sending a message- to your competitors, my enemies, and everyone watching: that we're back in each other's lives. Unbreakable."

Her stomach twisted. "Lucas, this is a business arrangement. Nothing more."

His smile was slow, almost predatory. "That's what you keep telling yourself."

She bristled. "I should go."

Lucas caught her wrist gently, halting her. His touch was warm, familiar, and maddening.

"Why did you leave me, Rosie?" he asked, voice low and raw, stripping away the armor for just a fleeting second. "I deserve the truth."

Her heart thudded painfully. For a moment, she almost told him. Almost let the truth spill out-that her father had blackmailed her, that she had left to save him, not to hurt him. But old scars and pride held her tongue.

"It doesn't matter now," she whispered, pulling her hand free. "We both moved on."

Lucas's jaw tightened. "Don't lie to me."

She grabbed her bags, turning before her resolve crumbled. "I'll see you at the gala."

That night, Rosie sat alone in her apartment, staring at the ceiling.

Why did it still hurt? Five years had passed. They'd both built new lives. But the moment she saw him again, it was like no time had passed at all.

She reached for her wine, her fingers trembling slightly.

Lucas had always been the one man who made her feel alive-and the one man who could break her completely.

She closed her eyes, willing the ache to quiet. This was business. Strictly business.

But deep down, she knew the truth.

Nothing about Lucas Blake was ever just business.

Three Days Later – The Gala

Rosie adjusted her earring, her breath tight as she stepped out of the limo and into the flashing chaos of paparazzi cameras.

Lucas was waiting for her at the entrance, clad in the tuxedo she'd designed, every inch the powerful billionaire. His eyes locked onto her immediately, darkening as they took her in-the scarlet gown hugging her curves, the slit climbing high up her thigh, her hair swept up to expose her neck.

He offered his arm, and she hesitated just a second before sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow.

"Breathtaking," he murmured under his breath, lips near her ear. "I knew red would suit you."

"Shut up and smile," she whispered back, forcing a dazzling grin for the cameras.

They walked the carpet like royalty, the flashbulbs exploding around them. Rosie could hear the reporters shouting:

"Lucas! Rosie! Back together?"

"Is this a rekindled romance?"

"Lucas, any comment on your fiancée returning after five years?"

Lucas simply tightened his grip on her hand and led her inside, his smile cool and unreadable.

The ballroom was a sea of glittering gowns and sharp suits, but all eyes followed them as they entered.

Rosie's heart raced. She hated this charade-but part of her hated even more how right it felt, standing beside him again.

As the night unfolded, Lucas worked the room with practiced ease, his hand resting on the small of her back, his touch proprietary and possessive.

When they finally had a moment alone near the balcony, Rosie turned to him, her mask of calm starting to crack.

"This... is insane," she hissed. "Everyone's talking. They think we're-"

"Exactly what I want them to think," Lucas interrupted smoothly, eyes gleaming. "We're rewriting the story, Rosie. On my terms this time."

Her breath caught as he stepped closer, his fingers brushing a stray curl from her cheek.

"Be careful," she warned, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound strong. "We both know where this leads."

Lucas's eyes locked onto hers, something raw flickering beneath his cool exterior.

"Oh, Rosie," he murmured, his thumb grazing her jaw. "I'm counting on it."

"We agreed on rules," she said, her voice tighter than she wanted. "And you're breaking them already."

Lucas's gaze didn't waver. "The rules were yours, Rosie. Not mine."

She hated how close he still stood, how every nerve in her body sparked under his scrutiny. She had to get control of this situation- fast.

"I'm here to help you with your image, Lucas. That's it."

He gave a low laugh, stepping back just enough to let her breathe. "You keep telling yourself that. But tonight... everyone in this room believes something else." He paused, eyes narrowing with intent. "And part of you? You believe it too."

She opened her mouth to retort but froze as his phone buzzed. Lucas pulled it from his pocket, his expression hardening as he read the message.

"Problem?" Rosie asked, sensing the shift.

Lucas's jaw tightened. "Business."

Before she could question further, a well-dressed man appeared at Lucas's side, speaking in a low, urgent tone. Rosie couldn't catch the words, but the tension in Lucas's body was unmistakable.

He turned back to her, his eyes sharp and focused. "I have to step away. Stay here-and stay visible."

She frowned. "Lucas-"

But he was already gone, swallowed up by the crowd and out of sight.

Rosie stood alone, her heart pounding-not just from the lingering heat between them, but now from unease.

She wandered toward the balcony, needing air. As she stepped outside, the cool night wrapped around her, a stark contrast to the fevered energy inside. She leaned on the marble railing, staring out at the glittering city skyline.

What the hell was she doing?

This wasn't her world anymore. It never really had been.

She was still lost in thought when a voice broke through the quiet.

"Rosie Kirkland. I thought I recognized you."

She turned, her eyes narrowing at the man approaching. Tall, slick, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Victor Hale," he introduced himself smoothly, extending a hand. "I'm a... competitor of Lucas's. And once upon a time, I was a fan of yours, too."

Rosie shook his hand cautiously. "Nice to meet you."

Victor's smile widened. "I'd say more than nice. Your return is... interesting. Very interesting."

She bristled. "Is that supposed to mean something?"

Victor shrugged, stepping closer. "Lucas Blake is a dangerous man, Ms. Kirkland. Getting tangled up with him again... might not be the smartest move."

Her spine stiffened. "I can handle Lucas."

Victor's eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "We'll see."

With a final smirk, he melted back into the crowd, leaving Rosie rattled.

She turned back to the city view, her mind racing. Whatever Lucas was caught up in, it was bigger than she'd thought. And now, so was she.

Thirty minutes later, Lucas reappeared, jaw tight, eyes stormy. He found Rosie near the bar, his gaze sweeping over her quickly.

"Everything okay?" she asked, searching his face.

Lucas hesitated, then nodded once. "It's handled."

But the tension in his shoulders told her otherwise.

"Victor Hale came by," she said quietly. "He warned me... about you."

Lucas's eyes darkened. "Stay away from him."

"I didn't seek him out," she shot back. "He found me."

Lucas exhaled sharply, his hand brushing her lower back as he leaned in, his voice low and urgent. "This isn't just about appearances anymore, Rosie. Things are... complicated. And you're in the middle of it now, whether you like it or not."

She pulled back, eyes flashing. "I didn't ask for this."

"No," he agreed, his gaze locking onto hers, intense and unrelenting. "But you're here. With me. And that means you're part of it."

Her breath caught, the air between them charged and dangerous.

Before she could answer, the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, calling Lucas to the stage for his keynote.

Lucas's eyes softened just a fraction. "Stay close tonight. Please."

And then he was gone again, stepping into the spotlight as the room erupted in applause.

Rosie stood frozen, her heart pounding in her chest.

She wasn't sure what scared her more-Victor's warning... or how deep she was already falling back into Lucas's world.

And her own feelings... Because no matter how hard she tried to bury them... They were rising fast, impossible to ignore.

. . . . . . . . . .