CHAPTER 1

Collision of Worlds

The city pulsed with life beneath the towering skyline, neon lights flickering against the rain-slicked streets. High above it all, in the heart of a sleek glass tower, Peter Alexander sat at the head of a long conference table, his expression unreadable.

The meeting was tense—his board members silent as a presentation displayed the latest attack from his greatest enemy. A hostile takeover was underway, one that threatened to strip a major asset from his control.

Peter's fingers tapped against the table, slow and calculating. His rival was bold—too bold. And yet, Peter wasn't angry. No, anger was a wasted emotion. This was a game of power, and in the end, he always won.

Then the doors burst open.

A woman stumbled inside, clutching a damp folder to her chest. The entire room stiffened. No one—absolutely no one—interrupted Peter's meetings.

His secretary rushed in behind her, breathless. "Sir, I tried to stop her—"

The woman—young, strikingly beautiful—turned, cutting the secretary off. "I need to speak to the owner of this company."

The audacity.

Peter leaned back, intrigued by her lack of hesitation. Drenched from the rain, her clothes clung to her body, accentuating delicate curves. Her wide, defiant eyes locked onto his, completely unaware of the battlefield she had just stepped into.

"You're speaking to him," Peter said, voice smooth yet laced with quiet authority.

Naarah's grip tightened on her folder. "Then I have something to say."

The room remained frozen, his board members exchanging glances of disbelief. No one spoke to Peter like this. No one.

Peter gestured lazily with his hand. "Then say it."

She took a deep breath. "Your company is evicting families from their homes for a project that hasn't even started yet. People are losing everything because of a signature on a piece of paper."

A slow smirk tugged at Peter's lips. Ah, she was one of those—the ones who believed morality had a place in business.

"Is that so?" he mused, watching her closely.

"Yes." She stepped forward. "You're forcing people out of their homes. You can't just do that."

Peter let the silence stretch.

Most people cowered under his gaze. They stumbled over their words, shrank back, avoided eye contact. But this woman… she was different. She stood her ground, her chest rising and falling with conviction, completely unaware of the danger she was in.

And Peter?

He was intrigued.

He exhaled slowly, placing his elbows on the table. "You're either very brave or very foolish."

Naarah lifted her chin. "Maybe both. But someone has to stand up to people like you."

A flicker of amusement danced in his cold, sharp eyes. He rarely encountered people who didn't fear him, and she… she wasn't afraid.

Not yet.

Peter tapped a single finger against the polished surface of the table, considering his next move. He could have security remove her. He could crush whatever cause she was fighting for with a simple phone call. But instead…

He wanted to play.

"Sit," he commanded.

Naarah hesitated, then took a seat across from him, her back straight, her fingers gripping the folder tighter.

Peter studied her for a long moment before speaking. "What's your name?"

"Naarah."

The name rolled over his tongue, foreign but oddly pleasant. He leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, Naarah… do you always barge into meetings uninvited, or am I just special?"

Her cheeks flushed slightly, but she didn't back down. "Only when someone is ruining lives for profit."

A quiet chuckle escaped him. He couldn't help it. She was fascinating.

And dangerously unaware.

Peter's gaze flickered to the folder she held. "That's yours?"

"Yes." She slid it across the table. "Evidence that the evictions are happening. People are losing their homes. I know you have power—if you wanted to stop it, you could."

Peter traced a single finger along the folder's edge, his gaze never leaving hers. "And if I don't?"

Her jaw clenched. "Then I'll find someone who will."

The challenge in her voice sent a slow, burning heat through him.

She was so… pure.

So untouched by the realities of his world.

Peter had met women of all kinds—manipulative, ambitious, desperate for his attention. But Naarah? She was different. She had no idea what kind of men ruled this city.

No idea that she had just walked straight into the lion's den.

The door opened suddenly, and Peter's right-hand man leaned in, his face carefully composed. "Sir, there's been an incident regarding our competitor."

Peter's expression hardened. His rival. Always moving, always lurking.

His attention flicked back to Naarah, who was still staring at him, waiting—expecting him to do the right thing.

She had no idea who she was dealing with.

Peter's lips curled into a slow, dangerous smile. "Very well, Naarah. I'll consider it."

A flicker of hope crossed her face. "Really?"

"Mm." He leaned back, amusement flickering in his gaze. "In the meantime, you should be careful. There are dangerous men in this city."

She frowned. "I'm not afraid."

Oh, sweetheart. You should be.

Peter rose from his chair. "We'll speak again."

Naarah hesitated, then nodded before standing. "Thank you for your time."

As she walked out of the boardroom, Peter watched her go, something dark and unshakable settling in his chest.

She had no idea she had just caught the attention of the most powerful—and most dangerous—men in the city.

And he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.