Chapter 2 Two Lies, One Suite

Location: The Roth–Vance Penthouse Suite

> "This is a joke."

Amelia stopped cold just inside the penthouse, her heels clicking against polished marble. She scanned the sleek, modern spacethe wide terrace, open-concept living room, a bottle of champagne already on ice, and a single king-sized bed dominating the master.

One bed.

> "PR said we should look 'comfortable,'" Leo said from behind her, dropping his overnight bag on the velvet chaise. "You don't like it? You can sleep on the couch."

> "You'll be sleeping on the sidewalk."

> "You sure?" His voice dipped. "Because I'm very good with shared spaces."

She spun, glaring.

> "You think this is funny?"

> "No," Leo said, walking toward her. "I think it's inevitable."

The tension between them was chemical now combustible and humming just beneath the skin.

Leo stepped closer, invading her space. Amelia didn't move back. Didn't blink.

> "You're playing a dangerous game, Vance."

> "I like danger." His voice lowered. "You wear it like perfume."

His hand hovered near her hip, not touching yet somehow more intimate than any contact.

Amelia's breath hitched.

> "We're enemies," she whispered.

> "Enemies who want to taste what hating each other has cost."

She hated that her pulse skipped. That her skin buzzed. That her knees remembered how it felt to be dipped on the dance floor, his thigh between hers.

> "You're a narcissist."

> "You're obsessed with control." He stepped in fully now, until their bodies nearly brushed. "Let go. I dare you."

And God help her, her body was tempted.

> "You're not my type," she said softly, voice trembling with defiance.

> "That's the first true thing you've said all day." Leo's thumb brushed the underside of her jaw. "Because I'm not your type. I'm your ruin."

Her lashes fluttered. Their mouths were inches apart.

And just before their lips met

Her phone buzzed.

She yanked away like he'd burned her.

> "Saved by the bell," he murmured.

She turned toward the bar, furious at herself, furious at him, furious at the heat still licking beneath her skin.

> "We're here to fix a scandal. Not create new ones."

> "Speak for yourself." He leaned against the wall, watching her with that lazy heat. "I've got a few I'd like to start."

Hours later, Amelia stood under a rainfall shower, the city glowing through the frosted glass.

She told herself she was only trying to relax.

But when her fingers drifted down her own body, when she bit her lip thinking about the press of his palm on her waist, the hard line of his chest against her back during that dance...

She hated herself for how badly she wanted it.

Wanted him.

A knock at the bathroom door.

> "Water heater's shorted. I need in."

> "No."

> "It's either this or I show up to our first joint interview smelling like last night's sin."

She cursed under her breath and cracked the door.

> "Shower's big enough. Stay on your side."

> "What side?"

He stepped in.

Steam enveloped them.

Amelia pressed herself against the far wall. Leo stood just behind her, water running over his chest, his abs, that lazy smirk still in place.

> "Nothing to see here," she muttered, refusing to look.

> "That's a shame," he said, eyes locked on her reflection in the glass.

She turned.

Big mistake.

The air between them evaporated.

His hand touched her wrist, then slid so slowly up her arm. Not groping. Exploring.

She didn't stop him.

Her breath grew shallow.

His thumb ghosted over her collarbone. His voice was low.

> "You hate that I see you. Don't you?"

> "I hate that you like it."

> "I love it."

She stepped forward, pushing him back against the tile. Her eyes locked on his mouth.

> "Say it," she whispered.

> "Say what?"

> "That you want me."

> "I want you." His hands gripped her hips. "Badly. Brutally. Completely."

They stood like that. Breathing. Shaking.

She didn't kiss him.

She left.

Later that night, Leo stepped onto the terrace, shirtless, drink in hand.

> "You always watch the skyline like it's about to fall."

Amelia, wrapped in a silk robe, didn't look at him.

> "Because it might."

> "That leak... wasn't just a PR hit," he said, voice turning serious. "I checked the server logs. Someone left behind a digital fingerprint. A signature."

> "Whose?"

He looked at her.

> "Yours."

She froze.

> "I didn't"

> "I know. Which means someone's framing you."

Her pulse thundered.

> "Someone inside?"

> "Someone who wants both of us out of the picture."

They stared at each other.

Then

The lights flickered.

A whisper of static buzzed through the penthouse.

Leo moved first, stepping in front of her, shielding her.

> "Stay behind me."

> "Leo"

> "Amelia. Don't argue."

He opened the door to the hallway

And found a red envelope taped to the wall.

Inside: A single photo. Amelia in the shower. Her body. Her face. Clear as day.

On the back:

> It's not just business anymore. It's personal.

Sleep tight, lovers.

"How long have they been watching us?"

Amelia's voice was low, lethal. The photo trembled slightly in her hand though her fingers didn't.

Leo stood shirtless in the doorway, fury boiling just beneath his skin. Not his usual smug smirk, not his careless charm.

No, this was something different.

This was violence dressed in Vance skin.

> "That's not just surveillance," he said, voice flat. "That's a warning."

Amelia turned the photo over again. The image was high-resolution. Clear. Close.

Someone had been inside the suite.

> "Who has access to this floor?" she asked tightly.

> "Only security," Leo said. "And us."

He pulled his phone from his back pocket, dialing with one hand while the other wrapped around her shoulder, guiding her inside.

She let him. That, alone, terrified her more than the photo.

The suite door locked behind them with a beep. Leo pulled the blinds closed, turned off the lights, and stepped in front of her again.

> "We're not safe here."

> "I'm not scared."

> "You should be," he said, stepping closer. "Someone just threatened you in your own home."

> "It's not my home. It's a set."

> "It's real enough that someone broke in."

Silence.

His hand brushed her hair back, slowly. His thumb ghosted over her cheek.

> "You okay?" he asked.

> "Don't," she whispered. "Don't pretend you care."

His eyes darkened.

> "I'm not pretending."

Then, before she could think, Leo stepped forward, crowding her back against the suite wall.

He didn't kiss her.

He just stood there, his body pressing into hers, their breaths syncopated and ragged.

> "You think this is just sex," he said. "You think I touch you because it's a power game."

Her fingers tightened on his biceps. His heat bled into her.

> "Isn't it?" she breathed.

> "No. Not with you."

> "Liar."

> "Say stop," he whispered.

She didn't.

He tilted her chin. She didn't pull away.

His mouth met herssoft, at first. Testing. A question wrapped in heat.

She answered with teeth.

The kiss turned brutal in a heartbeatmouths clashing, hands clawing at clothes, a war fought in silk and skin.

Leo walked her backward to the bed.

Amelia's robe hit the floor.

His shirt followed.

He didn't undress her. He didn't need to.

His hands slid down the length of her spine as she sank onto the mattress, breathless, furious, wanting.

> "We shouldn't," she gasped.

> "We already did."

> "This changes nothing."

> "It changes everything."

He lowered over her, and her legs opened without a second thought.

Her control cracked, piece by piece.

She hated how much she loved the way he said her name like a vow and a dare.

They didn't go all the way.

But they went far enough to shatter something between them.

Afterward, she sat at the edge of the bed, hair loose, lips swollen.

Leo handed her a glass of whiskey. No words.

> "You're still the enemy," she said.

> "So are you."

> "So what are we doing?"

> "Making a mistake we'll make again."

She laughed once. Dark and low.

> "You're not worth it."

> "No," he said. "But you are."

The intercom buzzed.

Leo's head snapped up.

He crossed the room in two strides and pressed the answer button.

Nothing.

Just static.

Then a voice.

Distorted. Masked.

> "Tick tock, lovers."

> "Your time's running out."

The line cut.

Amelia stood. Heart pounding.

A knock at the door followed.

This time, a package. Unmarked.

Inside: A USB drive.

Leo inserted it into the laptop, jaw tight.

A video played.

Security cam footage.

From inside her bedroom.

Footage of her sleeping.

Of Leo entering.

Of him placing his hand on her throat during a heated kiss.

> "Holy" Leo backed away. "This wasn't tonight. This is from before."

> "What?" she breathed.

> "That night I helped you escape that press ambush at the Zurich summit. We were alone. No cameras."

> "Then how...?"

They looked at each other.

Because whoever was behind this?

Had been watching for a long, long time.

> This wasn't blackmail.

This was an obsession.

And it wasn't just targeting Amelia anymore

It was watching both of them fall.