VOICES FROM THE SHADOWS

The night's lingering heat clung to Avie's skin as she strode into her office, her heels tapping a rhythmic staccato on the polished floor. The familiar scent of espresso and expensive perfume filled the air, but it wasn't the coffee that made her stomach turn—it was the voice.

"Well, well, if it isn't Avie," Clara Hastings purred, her tone syrupy and sharp. She lounged by the espresso bar, surrounded by her usual entourage.

Clara's eyes glittered as she played to her audience. "Ladies, guess who I ran into recently—Quentin Rome. Handsome, brilliant, and, might I add, absolutely irresistible."

She sighed theatrically, her smile widening as a few women tittered in response. "I'm simply torn between his mind and…other assets."

Avie paused just within earshot, adjusting her cufflinks with a nonchalant flick of her wrist. "Quentin Rome?" she mused, her voice carrying enough curiosity to bait without revealing the hook. "Charming man. I hear he leaves quite the impression."

Clara's gaze sharpened, her lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. "Oh, darling," she replied, her voice low and edged with rivalry, "he's more than charming. Let's just say…I'm working on getting his undivided attention."

Avie's smile was slow and knowing, her eyes meeting Clara's with a glint that made the air between them crackle. "Well," she said smoothly, "best of luck with that." Her tone was laced with something Clara couldn't quite place—assurance, amusement, and something far more dangerous: certainty.

The moment stretched, heavy with their familiar dance of one-upmanship, before Avie turned on her heel, her departure cool and effortless.

She hadn't even reached her office when her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Keep your distance from Rome. For your own good.

Avie paused, her brow lifting as she read the message twice. Her thumb hovered over the screen before she locked it and slipped the phone away, the corner of her mouth curling.

"So," she murmured to herself, "I've hit a nerve. Interesting."

She entered her office, the view of the city sprawling beyond her window, and settled into her chair.

Her eyes flicked briefly toward her reflection in the glass—cool, composed, and ready. Outside, Clara's laughter rang faintly down the corridor, but Avie's attention was already elsewhere.

The game had only just begun.