CHAPTER SEVEN

Weighing the Risk-

Power is Never Given—It's Taken

Nicole spent the next few days immersed in Tyler's proposal, dissecting every clause, rewording, restructuring, and reinforcing—ensuring that by the time Tyler received her revisions, he would know exactly who was in control.

She sat in the grand conference room of Melbourne Enterprises, the scent of polished wood and fresh espresso filling the air. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden streaks over the contract Tyler Winslow had sent.

A knock on the door.

Emma stepped in, her usual sharp poise laced with hesitation. "Boss, the lady boss is here. She says it's urgent."

Nicole's grip on her pen tightened for a fraction of a second before she forced herself to relax. Victoria Melbourne. A woman as ruthless as she was formidable. A mother who loved and hated her equally.

Nicole had long accepted that their relationship was a battlefield, one where neither surrendered.

"Send her in."

Emma nodded and disappeared, only for the door to swing open moments later. Victoria Melbourne never waited for permission.

She strode inside, her tailored suit pristine, her presence commanding. Everything about her was controlled, from the crispness of her posture to the cold calculation in her gaze.

Nicole rose slowly, matching her mother's energy, an unreadable smile curving her lips. "Mother."

Victoria studied her, as if searching for a weakness to exploit. "Nicole, rumors about your dealings with Tyler Winslow have reached me."

Nicole arched a brow. "I assume they didn't amuse you."

Victoria's eyes gleamed with something close to disappointment—but sharper. "They concern me. Tyler's reputation is... complicated. Do you even realize what you're getting yourself into?"

Nicole met her mother's stare with unwavering calm. "This is business, Mother. And I have it under control."

Victoria's lips pressed into a thin line. "You sound just like your father when you say that."

Nicole's spine straightened. "Good."

A flicker of something—approval, irritation, or perhaps both—passed through Victoria's gaze before she leaned in slightly. "Listen to me, Nicole. You're playing with fire. Tyler Winslow isn't a man you manipulate without consequence."

Nicole's expression didn't falter. "Neither am I."

Victoria exhaled sharply. "Family comes first. Don't forget that. You're a Melbourne. We don't tolerate failure."

Her words were a warning and a threat in one breath. And then, just as swiftly as she had come, she stood up,turned and walked away without a glance back.

This was a woman who fought her husband just to give me space but now she doesn't seem like my mother but a business partner…

Nicole remained still, her mother's words echoing in the silence. Family comes first.

But what if power did?

A Dance of PowerMinutes after Victoria left, Rachel walked in, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. "She's worried."

Nicole exhaled slowly. "She's always worried when she can't control the board so I won't say worried like you meant Rachael."

Rachel chuckled. "And Tyler?"

Nicole leaned back in her chair, gaze unreadable. "He's about to find out just how little control he actually has."

As if summoned by the conversation, Emma stepped in. "Mr. Winslow is here."

Nicole exchanged a glance with Rachel before closing the contract with deliberate precision. "Send him in."

Tyler Winslow entered like he owned the room. Confidence draped over him like an expensive suit, his presence commanding attention without effort.

"Nicole," he greeted smoothly, taking the seat across from her without waiting for an invitation.

"Tyler." Her voice was poised, a quiet challenge wrapped in civility.

Rachel remained standing, arms crossed, a silent observer.

Tyler's gaze flicked to the folder in front of her. "I assume you've gone through the contract."

Nicole clasped her hands together, tilting her head slightly. "Thoroughly."

His lips curved in a knowing smirk. "And?"

Nicole slid the folder across the table. "I've made a few adjustments."

Tyler opened it, scanning the revised clauses. The longer he read, the more his expression shifted—somewhere between amusement and challenge.

51% control.

Tyler bit back a chuckle. Of course.

Nicole Melbourne didn't just want a stake in the game—she wanted the whole damn board.

"You want majority control," he murmured, looking up. "That's not exactly a partnership."

Nicole took a slow sip of her espresso, unfazed. "It's a safeguard. I don't invest in ventures I can't control."

He held her gaze, letting the silence stretch. She was testing him. Pushing him. And hell if he didn't enjoy it.

"Then let's not pretend this is just business," he said, voice lower now. "You don't trust me."

Nicole's lips curled slightly. "I don't trust anyone, Tyler."

Tyler leaned back in his chair, studying her. She wasn't lying.

She was control wrapped in silk, power in every calculated movement. The kind of woman who could build an empire with one hand and burn down an enemy with the other.

Damn, he admired that.

"Fine," he finally said, closing the folder but not pushing it away. That was the first sign of a negotiation still in motion.

"You remind me of someone," Tyler added after a beat.

Nicole raised a brow. "Oh?"

Tyler's gaze darkened, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. "My father."

Rachel tensed slightly at the mention of Henry Winslow, the ruthless man who had built the Winslow empire.

Nicole, however, didn't flinch. She simply held his gaze. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

Tyler smirked, slow and deliberate. "Depends. He always got what he wanted. But the price was never cheap."

Nicole tilted her head slightly. "Neither is power."

Another pause. Then, finally—Tyler reached for the pen.

"You have a deal, Nicole."

She watched as he signed his name—bold, precise, a declaration of war and alliance in one stroke.

But as he did, one thought lodged itself into his mind—unshakable, undeniable.

Nicole Melbourne wasn't just dangerous.

She was temptation dressed as a challenge.

And for the first time in years, Tyler Winslow wondered if he was playing the game… or if he was being played.