Chapter 5: A Game of Shadows

Amara Kingsley stepped out of Liam Hargrove's office, her posture relaxed but her mind razor-sharp.

She had played her part well.

She had signed the contract, setting her plan in motion.

Now, the real work began.

As she walked toward the elevators, a familiar voice cut through the hum of the corporate world.

"Amara?"

She turned, unsurprised to see Noah.

Her younger brother stood a few feet away, arms crossed, watching her like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

She gave him an easy smile. "Business."

Noah's gaze flickered toward the glass doors behind her, then back to her face.

"With Liam Hargrove?" His skepticism was clear.

"Yes," she said simply.

Noah frowned. "And since when do you work with guys like him?"

"Since it became profitable," she replied, stepping into the elevator.

Noah followed, hitting the ground floor button.

He sighed. "Amara, I know you're smart, but Hargrove isn't just any businessman. He's—"

She turned to him, her expression unreadable. "Powerful. Dangerous. Cutthroat. Yes, I'm aware."

Noah shook his head. "Then why are you getting involved with him?"

Her lips curled slightly. "Because he doesn't know what I know."

Noah gave her a long look, searching her face. "You're being cryptic again."

She shrugged. "It's a habit."

The elevator doors opened, and she stepped out.

Noah caught her wrist.

"If you ever need backup," he said, "you know where to find me."

She smiled, placing a hand over his.

"I know."

She wouldn't need it.

Because this time, she was ten steps ahead.

The Invitation

That evening, Amara sat in her apartment, the city lights casting a soft glow across her space.

Her phone buzzed.

Liam: There's a gala tomorrow night. Be there.

She sipped her wine, amused at his confidence.

Amara: We'll see.

A moment later, her phone vibrated again.

Liam: I don't like waiting, Miss Kingsley.

She smirked.

Amara: Then you'll hate me soon enough.

No response this time.

Good.

Let him wonder.

Let him question.

She wasn't the same woman he had destroyed.

This time, she was the one pulling the strings.

The Gala: A Different Game

The Grand Astoria Hotel shimmered under the glow of golden chandeliers.

Guests in designer gowns and tailored suits filled the ballroom, laughter and champagne flowing effortlessly.

Amara stepped through the entrance, her midnight-blue gown clinging to her like a second skin.

Heads turned.

Not just because of her beauty—but because she walked like she belonged.

And then she felt his gaze.

Liam Hargrove.

She turned, meeting his eyes across the room.

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips.

Let the game begin.

A Dance with the Devil

"Miss Kingsley."

Liam's voice was smooth, dripping with amusement as he approached.

"Mr. Hargrove," she greeted, sipping her champagne.

"You came."

"You expected me to refuse?"

His smirk deepened. "I expected you to hesitate."

She tilted her head. "I don't hesitate, Mr. Hargrove."

His gaze darkened slightly.

"Good," he murmured, offering his hand. "Shall we dance?"

For a second, she let the moment stretch.

Then, she placed her hand in his.

His fingers curled around hers, warm and firm.

They moved onto the dance floor, the orchestra playing something slow and haunting.

Their movements were seamless.

As if they had done this before.

Because they had.

At least, in her past life.

Liam leaned in slightly. "You're different."

She raised a brow. "How so?"

"You're not easily impressed."

She smirked. "Should I be?"

He chuckled. "Most women are."

She swirled her champagne, meeting his gaze. "I'm not most women."

A flicker of something passed through his eyes.

Curiosity. Interest. Challenge.

Good. Let him wonder.

A Warning, A Promise

After the dance, Liam led her to a quieter part of the ballroom, pouring her a glass of whiskey.

He watched her carefully. "What do you want, Amara?"

She took the glass, swirling the amber liquid slowly.

"What do you think I want?"

Liam studied her, a hint of amusement in his gaze.

Finally, he smirked. "I guess I'll have to find out."

She chuckled, taking a slow sip.

"Good luck with that, Mr. Hargrove."

Then she turned and walked away.

Letting him watch.

Letting him wonder.

Because this time?

She was the one in control.