Money comes first before love

It was a crisp November morning, the kind that carried a bite in the air sharp enough to make even New Yorkers hustle a little faster. Elena Monroe adjusted the scarf around her neck as she pushed through the revolving doors of the Empire Financial Times building. The familiar scent of coffee, paper, and ambition hit her as she stepped into the bustling lobby, the click of her heels swallowed by the hum of phones and murmured conversations.

The elevator dinged, and Elena slid inside, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror-lined walls. Hazel eyes framed by thick lashes stared back, her hair twisted into a neat bun that screamed "professional." But professionalism was just a veneer; underneath it was a woman hungry for more. Today wasn't about her usual assignments-profiles on hedge fund managers or exposés on shell companies. No, today she was walking into the lion's den.

Her editor, Jack Greer, had sent her a cryptic email at 6:00 a.m.

Subject: Hastings. You're up.

She knew what that meant. Nicholas Hastings. The golden boy of Wall Street turned kingmaker. A man whose name was synonymous with power, control, and scandal.

Elena stepped off the elevator and made her way to Jack's glass-walled office. He was leaning back in his chair, a cigar he wasn't allowed to smoke clamped between his teeth. When he saw her, he waved her in without preamble.

"Elena, sit."

She dropped into the chair across from him, folding her arms. "Hastings? Really? Isn't he untouchable?"

Jack grinned, the kind of grin that made her stomach sink. "Nobody's untouchable. Not even him. We've got a tip. Something big. And you're the best we've got."

Elena arched a brow. "Flattery, Jack? What's the catch?"

"No catch." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. "We've been hearing whispers. Shady deals, hostile takeovers, maybe worse. I want you to get close. Find out what he's hiding."

"And how exactly am I supposed to get close to someone like Hastings? He doesn't do interviews."

"That's why I hired you, kid. You're resourceful. You'll find a way."

Elena opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. This was what she wanted-a chance to prove she could handle the big leagues. But Hastings wasn't just big; he was a storm, and anyone who got too close usually got swept away.

"Fine," she said, standing. "I'll take it. But don't expect miracles."

Jack smirked. "I never do."

Two days later, Elena found herself standing in the lobby of Hastings International, clutching a notepad she didn't need and wearing a blazer that suddenly felt too tight. The building was a monolith of steel and glass, towering over the city like a fortress.

She had managed to secure a meeting with his PR team under the guise of writing a feature on corporate innovation. It was a flimsy excuse, but it was enough to get her foot in the door.

A sleek-haired assistant escorted her to a conference room, all marble and chrome. "Mr. Hastings will be with you shortly," the assistant said before disappearing.

Elena took a seat, her heart beating faster than she liked. She hated waiting-it gave her too much time to think.

The door opened, and she looked up, expecting to see another assistant or perhaps a member of his team. Instead, Nicholas Hastings himself walked in.

He was taller than she'd expected, with broad shoulders that filled out his tailored suit perfectly. His dark hair was swept back, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers with a confidence that was almost unnerving.

"Elena Monroe," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. "I'm told you're here to talk about innovation."

For a moment, she couldn't find her voice. He wasn't just attractive; he was magnetic, the kind of man who could make you forget your own name if you weren't careful.

"Yes," she said, recovering quickly. "Thank you for taking the time. I wasn't expecting to meet you personally."

He sat across from her, his movements deliberate. "I don't usually. But your name came across my desk, and I was curious. You've made a reputation for yourself, Ms. Monroe."

Her pulse quickened. Did he already suspect something? "I like to think my work speaks for itself."

He smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes. "It does. Which is why I'll make this brief. I'm not interested in fluff pieces, and I don't have time for nonsense. If you want to discuss innovation, we'll do so on my terms. Otherwise, you can leave now."

Elena's instincts flared. This wasn't just a power play-it was a test. "I don't do fluff, Mr. Hastings. If I did, I wouldn't be sitting here."

For the first time, his expression softened, just a fraction. "Fair enough. Let's begin."

The next hour was a verbal chess match. Elena probed with carefully crafted questions, trying to peel back the layers of the man sitting across from her. But Nick deflected with the ease of someone who had spent years under scrutiny. He was charming but guarded, revealing just enough to keep her interested without giving anything away.

When the meeting ended, she felt both exhilarated and frustrated. As she gathered her things, Nick stood, watching her with an intensity that made her pause.

"Ms. Monroe," he said, his voice low. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other again."

She met his gaze, refusing to back down. "I wouldn't bet against it."

As she walked out of the building, her mind raced. Nicholas Hastings wasn't just a story-he was a mystery. And if there was one thing Elena couldn't resist, it was uncovering the truth.

The brisk air outside was a welcome relief as Elena stepped onto the sidewalk, the city's chaos wrapping around her like an old, familiar blanket. She clutched her notepad against her chest, her mind spinning with every detail of her encounter with Nicholas Hastings. His presence lingered-a gravitational pull she couldn't quite shake.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, snapping her back to reality. Fishing it out, she saw Jack Greer's name flashing on the screen.

"Did you charm the prince of Wall Street?" Jack's gruff voice barked the moment she answered.

"More like sparred with him," Elena replied, flagging down a cab. She slipped into the backseat, her voice steady but clipped. "He agreed to talk, but I didn't get much. He's a fortress."

Jack chuckled. "Of course he is. You didn't think it'd be easy, did you?"

"No, but he's sharper than I expected. Every question I asked, he turned it back on me. He knows how to play the game."

"Well, play it better. Dig deeper. You're not here to make friends, Elena-you're here to crack him open."

The line went dead before she could respond. Typical Jack.

As the cab weaved through traffic, Elena stared out the window, replaying every moment of her meeting with Nick. His sharp eyes, his calculated tone, the way he seemed to study her as much as she was studying him-it was all a dance, but she wasn't sure yet who was leading.

When she got back to her apartment, a cozy walk-up in Brooklyn that felt miles away from the gleaming towers of Manhattan, Elena collapsed onto the couch. She pulled out her notepad, flipping through her scribbled notes.

Nick Hastings: calculated, guarded, but human. Possible cracks in the armor? Explore further.

Her pen hovered over the page as her mind wandered to the faint flicker of vulnerability she thought she'd glimpsed in him. A moment where his charm had faltered, just for a second. Could she leverage that?

Her thoughts were interrupted by another buzz. This time, a text from an unknown number.

I hope you got what you needed today. Be careful where you dig. Some truths aren't worth the cost.

Elena sat bolt upright, her heart hammering. Who the hell was this?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating how to respond. But before she could type a reply, the message disappeared-vanished, as if it had never existed.

She stared at the blank screen, a chill creeping up her spine. Someone was watching her.

The next morning, Elena was back at Hastings International, armed with a new angle and a sharper resolve. She hadn't planned to return so soon, but the mysterious message had ignited something in her-a mix of fear and defiance. If someone wanted her to stop, that only meant she was getting closer to something big.

The receptionist gave her a polite smile as she approached the desk. "Ms. Monroe. Mr. Hastings is expecting you. Please follow me."

Elena frowned. Expecting her? She hadn't scheduled another meeting. But she followed the receptionist without protest, her heels clicking against the marble floors.

This time, instead of the sterile conference room, she was led to a private office on the top floor. The space was exactly what she'd imagined for a man like Nick Hastings-sleek, modern, and exuding power. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, and a massive oak desk dominated the room.

Nick was standing by the window, his back to her, hands tucked into his pockets.

"You're persistent, Ms. Monroe," he said without turning around. "I like

"You're persistent, Ms. Monroe," he said without turning around. "I like that."

Elena paused in the doorway, her instincts immediately on edge. The last time they'd met, he'd been distant yet controlled, as though he wanted to hold her at arm's length. But today? There was something different. A tension in the air, a deliberate intimacy in how he'd arranged this meeting.

"Persistence is part of the job," she replied, stepping into the room. She let her eyes scan the space, cataloging every detail: the minimalist artwork, the lack of clutter on his desk, the faint scent of cedar and leather. This wasn't just an office; it was a statement.

Nick turned then, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke. His gaze wasn't just looking at her-it was dissecting her, peeling back layers she hadn't even known she was wearing.

"Coffee?" he asked, gesturing toward a side table where a silver carafe and two porcelain cups sat waiting.

Elena shook her head, her voice steady. "No, thank you. I wasn't aware we had another meeting scheduled."

"We didn't," he said, taking a seat behind his desk. "But I assumed you'd be back. Ambitious women like you don't walk away from challenges."

Elena moved to the chair opposite him, her spine straight and her expression neutral. "And men like you don't leave much to chance. So, why did you really bring me here?"

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Straight to the point. I respect that. The truth is, Ms. Monroe, I'm curious about you. Most journalists come at me with the same tired questions, trying to trap me in soundbites. But you..." He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. "You're different. I can see it in the way you watch me, the way you choose your words. You're not just writing a profile-you're looking for something."

Elena's pulse quickened, but she didn't let it show. "I'm doing my job, Mr. Hastings. If that makes me different, then maybe you've been dealing with the wrong reporters."

Nick chuckled, a low, warm sound that somehow made her more uneasy. "Maybe. Or maybe you're just better at hiding your intentions."

Elena felt the heat of his gaze, sharp and unyielding, and she knew this was another one of his games. He wanted her to flinch, to give something away. Instead, she met his stare head-on.

"My intentions aren't hidden," she said. "I'm here to understand you-your business, your methods, your story. That's what my readers want."

"And what do you want, Ms. Monroe?" he asked softly.

The question threw her for a second. It was too personal, too direct. But she recovered quickly. "I want the truth. Isn't that what everyone wants?"

"Truth is overrated," Nick said, leaning back in his chair. "People don't want the truth-they want a story they can believe in. Something that fits their narrative. But you know that already, don't you?"

Elena tilted her head, studying him. "And what narrative are you trying to sell me, Mr. Hastings?"

He smirked. "That's the beauty of it-I don't have to sell anything. People will believe whatever they want about me. Ruthless billionaire. Visionary leader. Villain. Hero. The truth doesn't matter when perception is king."

For a moment, Elena felt a flicker of doubt. Was she in over her head? Nick Hastings wasn't just a man; he was a force, a storm disguised as a human being. But she shook off the thought. She had faced powerful people before, and she wasn't about to let him intimidate her.

"Perception may be king," she said, "but facts still matter. And I have a feeling there are plenty of facts about you that haven't come to light yet."

Nick's expression didn't change, but she saw the faintest flicker of something-amusement, maybe, or intrigue.

"Careful, Ms. Monroe," he said, his voice low. "You might not like what you find."

By the time Elena left Hastings International, her head was spinning. Nick's words lingered, cryptic and unsettling. He was daring her to dig deeper, but she couldn't tell if it was a challenge or a warning.

As she walked down the street, she pulled out her phone and called one of her most trusted sources, a data analyst who had a knack for uncovering hidden financial trails.

"Eric," she said when he picked up. "I need you to run a background check on Nicholas Hastings. Everything you can find-business dealings, offshore accounts, lawsuits, the works."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "That's a tall order, Elena. Hastings is like Fort Knox. But I'll see what I can do."

"Good. And Eric?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful. Someone's already watching me."

Another pause, longer this time. "Got it. I'll be in touch."

She ended the call and slipped her phone back into her pocket. Her instincts told her she was circling something big, but the closer she got, the more dangerous it felt.

As she turned the corner toward the subway, a black car parked across the street caught her eye. The windows were tinted, the engine idling. She quickened her pace, her heart pounding in her chest. Was she being paranoid? Or was someone really watching her?

By the time she reached her apartment, her nerves were frayed. She locked the door behind her, double-checking it before leaning against the wall.

She had chosen this life-digging into the secrets of the powerful, exposing their truths. But for the first time, she wondered if she was ready for what she might uncover. And worse, what it might cost her.