The First Meeting

The Merger Gala was the event of the year. Held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, it boasted the finest opulence money could buy—gilded chandeliers, priceless artwork, and the most powerful business moguls in attendance. The air hummed with the excitement of VIPs and media personalities, all buzzing with curiosity over the impending union between Morgan Enterprises and Hawthorne Industries.

When Mila Morgan entered the gala, the room fell into a hushed reverence. Dressed in a custom Valentino gown, her elegant silhouette cut through the opulence like a blade. The gown was a masterpiece of understated luxury—a deep, midnight blue that shimmered with every movement, the fabric hugging her curves with a quiet, lethal grace. Her hair was swept up in a tight, sleek bun, revealing her striking features, and her makeup was flawless, accentuating the cold brilliance in her eyes.

She moved through the crowd, each step commanding attention, her presence magnetic. The media couldn't look away, snapping photos as she passed, while whispers trailed in her wake. Mila didn't falter under the weight of their stares. This was her world, and she ruled it with a steely resolve. She was here to make a statement: she wouldn't be subdued by a marriage contract, not by Drake Hawthorne, and certainly not by some outdated family tradition.

On the opposite side of the room, Drake Hawthorne watched her approach, his expression one of calm control. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored Armani suit, its sharp lines and dark fabric only accentuating his air of confidence and power. His eyes followed her across the room, admiring how effortlessly she commanded the space. Even though they hadn't yet spoken, the tension between them was already palpable, a current that rippled beneath the surface, drawing the attention of everyone nearby.

Drake's lips curled into a smug smile as Mila's gaze locked with his for the first time since the marriage proposal had become public knowledge. His eyes held hers as she walked toward him, the tension thickening with every step. He wasn't just waiting for her—he was preparing for battle.

When they finally stood face-to-face, the room seemed to shrink, the noise of the gala fading as all eyes focused on Mila and Drake. The media circled them like sharks, cameras flashing, capturing the moment of their first public encounter as rivals bound by circumstance.

Drake's voice was smooth, low, dripping with amusement. "So, this is how it's going to be, huh? One look at me, and you're already plotting your escape plan?"

Mila didn't blink, her lips curling into a smirk that mirrored his. Her response was as sharp as her presence. "Don't flatter yourself. If you think this marriage is going to happen, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

The tension between them electrified the room, an undeniable chemistry that neither of them would acknowledge. Mila could feel the eyes of the press on them, waiting for any sign of weakness, but she was unflinching. This wasn't just a business encounter—it was the beginning of a war. And she didn't plan on losing.

Drake leaned in slightly, his voice low but taunting. "You're making this too easy, Mila. You know as well as I do that there's no escaping this. We're bound together now, like it or not."

Mila's eyes flashed with defiance. "The only thing I'm bound to is my company. And I'll destroy anyone who tries to take that from me—whether it's you or your family."

He chuckled, his gaze never leaving hers. "I admire your fire. It's a shame you'll be wasting it on trying to fight the inevitable."

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the unspoken challenge hanging in the air. Around them, the crowd watched, the tension crackling in every glance. The media buzzed, capturing every smirk, every subtle shift in their posture. This was the moment they had been waiting for—the first clash between two titans.

"Enjoy tonight, Hawthorne," Mila said, her voice icy but calm. "Because this is as close as you'll ever get to winning."

Drake's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with something darker, more dangerous. "We'll see about that, Morgan."

The conversation ended, but the battle had just begun. They stepped back, each one retreating to their respective corners of the gala, but neither of them could shake the charged energy that had passed between them. Mila was the first to break eye contact, moving gracefully into the crowd, but even as she turned away, she could feel Drake's gaze lingering on her.

The gala continued as planned, but to Mila and Drake, this was just the opening move. Neither would back down, and both were determined to come out on top. But for the first time, Mila felt a flicker of something unexpected. Drake wasn't going to be an easy opponent. He was every bit as ruthless, every bit as calculating, and every bit as determined as she was.

Before the night ended, they exchanged one final glance across the room, the weight of unspoken promises hanging between them. This war would be fought with more than just business strategies. It would be personal.

As the night wore on, the media buzzed with speculation about the upcoming union. But those who truly knew Mila Morgan and Drake Hawthorne understood one thing: this was only the beginning of something far more dangerous.

The war had officially begun, and neither of them planned to lose.