Scarlett "Red" Valenti's POV
The waterfront smells of salt and ambition, the Hudson River glinting under the morning sun like a sheet of liquid silver. I stand on the edge of the undeveloped lot, my boots sinking slightly into the uneven ground, the city's skyline looming behind me. This is it—my future, my legacy, a hundred acres of potential waiting for me to carve my name into it. But Julian Knight's here, tainting the moment, his presence like a storm cloud I can't shake. He's standing a few feet away, his dark hair catching the breeze, his tailored jacket doing nothing to hide the way his shoulders fill it out. Damn him for looking like that.
"Valenti," he says, his voice low, sliding over me like a caress I don't want to feel. "You're early. Eager to see me?"
I turn, my red hair whipping across my face, and fix him with a glare. "Eager to get this over with, Knight. Let's walk the site and pretend we can stand each other for an hour."
His lips curve, that infuriating half-smile that makes my blood simmer. "Pretend? Come on, Scarlett. You're enjoying this as much as I am."
I scoff, striding past him toward the water's edge, my navy blazer flapping in the wind. "Enjoying you? I'd rather enjoy a tax audit."
He falls into step beside me, too close, his cedarwood cologne teasing my senses. "Keep telling yourself that," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, smooth as sin. "But I see it, Scarlett. The way your eyes flash when you're sparring with me. You like the fight."
My pulse kicks up, and I hate it. Hate how he's right, how the clash of our wills lights something dangerous inside me. I stop, turning to face him, my arms crossed to keep my hands from doing something stupid—like shoving him or pulling him closer. "You're delusional," I say, my voice sharp, but there's a tremor I can't quite hide. "I'm here for the deal, not your ego trip."
He steps closer, his gray eyes locking onto mine, intense, unyielding. The air between us crackles, heavy with something I refuse to name. "The deal," he repeats, his gaze dropping to my lips for a heartbeat before flicking back up. "Is that why your breath catches every time I get close? Why you're standing there, all fire and defiance, but your cheeks are flushed?"
I clench my jaw, forcing myself to hold his stare. "You're imagining things, Knight. Must be all that time you spend staring at your own reflection."
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sends a shiver down my spine. "Oh, Scarlett, I'm not imagining a damn thing. I see you. The way you move, like you're daring me to push you. The way your voice sharpens when you're trying to hide how much I get to you."
I step closer, closing the gap until we're inches apart, my heart pounding so loud I'm sure he can hear it. "You think you get to me?" I say, my voice low, dripping with challenge. "You're nothing but a distraction, Julian. A pretty face with a big mouth. I've handled worse."
His eyes darken, and for a moment, I think he's going to back off. But he doesn't. He leans in, just enough that I can feel the heat of him, his breath brushing my ear as he speaks, his voice a velvet growl. "Pretty face, huh? Careful, Scarlett. Keep talking like that, and I'll start thinking you want to find out what this mouth can do."
My breath hitches, and I curse myself for it. My body's betraying me, a warm ache pooling low in my belly, my skin tingling where his words land. I want to slap that smug look off his face, but I also want—damn it, I don't know what I want. I tilt my head, my lips brushing so close to his jaw I can feel the stubble, and I whisper, "You'd have to be worth my time, Knight. And I don't waste my time on men who can't keep up."
He freezes, just for a second, and I see it—the flicker of something raw in his eyes, desire mixed with frustration. It's a crack in his armor, and I want to dig my nails into it, tear it wide open. "You're playing a dangerous game," he says, his voice rough now, like he's fighting to keep control. "Push me too far, Scarlett, and I'll show you exactly how well I keep up."
I laugh, soft and sharp, stepping back to break the spell before I do something reckless. "Promises, promises," I taunt, turning toward the water, my heart racing. "Focus on the deal, Julian. That's the only thing you're getting from me."
He doesn't follow, but I feel his eyes on me, heavy, burning. "We'll see about that," he says, his voice carrying just enough promise to make my knees weak. I keep walking, my boots crunching against the gravel, pretending I'm unaffected. But I'm not. My skin's alive, every nerve singing with the tension he's strung between us. I hate him for it. Hate how he makes me feel exposed, like he's peeling back layers I've spent years building.
The waterfront stretches before us, raw and untouched, a canvas for my vision. I force my mind back to the project—condos, green spaces, a skyline that screams Scarlett Valenti. "This section," I say, pointing to the northern edge, my voice steady now, "is perfect for the residential towers. High-end, exclusive, with views that'll make buyers beg."
He steps up beside me, his arm brushing mine, and I tense, refusing to look at him. "Residential's fine," he says, his tone back to business, but there's still that undercurrent, that heat. "But we integrate my AI grid here—smart lighting, traffic flow. It'll cut costs and draw tech investors."
I turn, raising a brow. "Your grid's untested. I'm not betting my reputation on a glitchy algorithm."
He smirks, stepping closer again, his voice dropping low, teasing. "Scared, Scarlett? Thought you were fearless."
I meet his gaze, my lips curving into a dangerous smile. "Scared? No. I just don't trust you to deliver anything but hot air."
His laugh is low, almost a growl, and it sends a shiver through me. "Oh, I deliver," he says, his eyes holding mine, the words laced with a meaning that has nothing to do with business. "And when I do, you'll know it."
My breath catches again, and I hate how my body responds, how my skin flushes under his stare. I turn away, focusing on the water, the city, anything but him. "Keep dreaming, Knight," I say, my voice sharp, but inside, I'm burning, caught in a game I didn't mean to play. This isn't just about the deal anymore. It's about him, me, and the line we're dangerously close to crossing.
As we walk the site, his voice weaves around me, tempting, challenging, pulling me deeper into this dance I can't afford to lose. I'm Scarlett Valenti, untouchable, unbreakable. But Julian Knight's words are a fire I can't ignore, and for the first time, I'm not sure if I want to put it out—or let it burn.