CHAPTER 2

A Dangerous Game

The moment Naarah stepped out of the towering glass skyscraper, she exhaled sharply, her pulse still racing from the confrontation. The city's crisp evening air wrapped around her, a stark contrast to the suffocating tension she had just left behind.

Had she really just spoken to him like that?

Peter Alexander—one of the most powerful men in the world. Cold, calculating, untouchable. The way he had looked at her sent an unfamiliar chill down her spine. She had seen amusement in his eyes, but there was something else lurking beneath—something dark.

A shiver ran through her.

No. She refused to be intimidated.

People were losing their homes, and she wasn't going to back down just because the man in charge happened to be intimidatingly gorgeous and dangerously powerful.

She shook off the thought and pulled out her phone. She needed to follow up with the families being evicted.

But as she raised the device to her ear, a sleek black car rolled up beside her, its tinted window lowering just enough for her to see the man inside.

Peter.

Her breath caught.

His sharp, piercing gaze locked onto hers, unwavering.

"Get in," he said.

Naarah blinked. "Excuse me?"

Peter tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "It's late. I'll take you home."

Something about the way he said it made her stomach tighten. It wasn't a request. It was a command wrapped in silk.

Naarah hesitated. Everything about this man screamed danger, and yet…

The way he looked at her made her skin prickle. Like she was a puzzle he wanted to solve.

"I don't think that's necessary," she said, keeping her voice steady.

Peter's lips curled slightly, but there was no humor in his smirk. "You just waltzed into my office and challenged me in front of my board. Do you really think I'm going to let you walk home alone?"

The statement sent a jolt through her. It wasn't kindness—it was something else.

Control.

"I can take care of myself," she said.

Peter's gaze darkened, something unreadable flashing across his expression.

"I don't doubt that," he murmured. "But humor me."

A muscle in her jaw twitched. This man was impossible.

Still, arguing with him in the middle of the street wasn't exactly a smart idea.

With a sigh, she stepped toward the car. The door opened smoothly, as if the vehicle itself anticipated her compliance. The moment she slid into the leather seat, she felt the weight of Peter's presence beside her—close, commanding, effortlessly powerful.

The door shut with a soft click, sealing her inside with him.

The car moved forward, and for a moment, silence stretched between them.

Naarah clenched her hands in her lap.

She needed to focus. She couldn't let herself be rattled by him.

"So," she said, keeping her tone even. "Did you really mean it when you said you'd consider stopping the evictions?"

Peter turned his head slightly, studying her. His fingers tapped against the armrest, slow and deliberate.

"I don't make promises I don't intend to keep."

"That's not an answer," she pointed out.

A slow, amused exhale left him. "No, it's not."

She scowled. "So you were just playing with me?"

Peter's gaze drifted down to her lips for the briefest second before returning to her eyes.

"I don't play, Naarah."

Her breath hitched.

Everything about this man was suffocatingly intense. His presence, his words, the way he looked at her like he could see something inside her that even she wasn't aware of.

She shifted in her seat. "Then what do you do?"

Peter leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to something dangerously smooth.

"I make people regret underestimating me."

A shiver ran through her.

The car slowed as they approached her street. The contrast between Peter's world and hers was stark—his power wrapped in gleaming skyscrapers and black-tinted cars, while hers was nestled in dimly lit apartment buildings and narrow streets.

The driver pulled to a stop, and Peter reached for the door handle.

But then, instead of opening the door, he turned back to her.

"You were brave tonight," he said, his voice softer now, yet still laced with something unreadable. "But bravery can be dangerous."

Naarah swallowed. "Someone has to stand up to people like you."

Peter tilted his head slightly, as if amused.

Then, before she could process it, he leaned in closer—just enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin.

"I wonder," he murmured, his voice dangerously low, "do you even realize how tempting you are when you're defiant?"

Her heart stopped.

She barely had time to react before he pulled away, opening the door for her.

"Go inside, Naarah."

Her body refused to move.

But then she saw the glint of amusement in his eyes—like he knew the effect he had on her.

That snapped her out of it.

With a sharp inhale, she stepped out of the car.

But before she shut the door, she met his gaze one last time.

"You should be careful too, Peter."

His brow arched slightly.

"Why's that?"

She gripped the edge of the door, meeting his stare head-on.

"Because I'm not afraid of you."

For the first time that night, something in Peter's expression shifted.

Something dark. Something intrigued.

Then, just as quickly, the amusement returned.

"Good," he murmured. "I'd hate for this to be too easy."

And with that, the door shut between them, leaving Naarah standing alone on the sidewalk, her heart racing, her skin burning from the ghost of his presence.

What the hell had she just gotten herself into?