Adetoye_Eniola

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Dominance & Desire

In the cutthroat world of business, Vincent Graves is known for his ruthless precision. Cold, calculating, and always in control, he’s built an empire through sheer dominance. Zane Harrington, on the other hand, is everything Vincent despises—reckless, unpredictable, and far too tempting for his own good.

When a multi-million-dollar inheritance forces them into an uneasy partnership, their long-standing rivalry ignites into something even more dangerous. Every meeting is a battlefield, every conversation a game of power. But beneath the sharp words and heated stares, desire simmers—dark, undeniable, and impossible to ignore.

As past traumas resurface and buried emotions claw their way to the surface, Vincent and Zane are left with a choice: fight until they destroy each other… or surrender to the fire that threatens to consume them both.

Enemies by fate. Bound by power. Seduced by something neither of them is ready to admit.


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DOMINANCE &DESIRE

But with something unspoken—something neither of them were willing to name.

Vincent stood rigid, his fists clenched at his sides, every muscle in his body coiled tight. Like he was fighting himself. Like he was losing.

Watched the way Vincent's chest rose and fell a little too fast. Watched the way his fingers twitched—like he wanted to reach out but wouldn't let himself.

"You ever get tired of this game, Graves?" Zane asked, voice low.

Vincent's jaw clenched. "I don't play games."

Zane chuckled, slow and lazy. "That's the biggest lie you've told today."

Vincent exhaled sharply. "We have a deal to finalize."

Zane took a step forward. "Sure. Let's talk business." Another step. "Let's talk strategy." Another. "Let's pretend we don't both know what's really happening here."

He reached out—slow, deliberate—and brushed his fingers against Vincent's wrist. The same way he had before.

Not much. Just a flicker of movement. Just a moment of weakness.

Vincent's fingers curled into a fist, his control snapping back into place. "You don't know anything."

Then—so fast it made Zane's breath hitch—Vincent grabbed his wrist. Tight. Firm.

Vincent's grip wasn't harsh, but it wasn't gentle either. It was possessive. A warning. A line drawn in the sand.

One they were both about to cross.

"You really think this is a game?" Vincent murmured, voice low, dangerous.

Zane tilted his head, pulse thrumming. "What else would it be?"

Zane smirked, leaning in just slightly. "If you don't want this, let go."

Zane could see the war in his eyes, the battle between control and desire, between reason and instinct.

So he leaned in further, their faces inches apart, his breath ghosting over Vincent's lips.

And in that moment, Zane knew—there was no turning back now.

They were past the point of no return.

NO WAY BACK.