: A Proposal As A Pretext — 3

"Three years, Julian," she said, tapping a silver pen against a thick legal folder. "That’s how long the merger has been stalled. Your board wants blood, and my family wants your territory. We are past the point of handshakes."

Elena looked at the ring, then up at him. The logic was cold, efficient, and utterly ruthless—exactly like the man standing before her. "A pretext," she whispered, testing the weight of the word. "Purely," Julian lied. 3 : A Proposal as a Pretext

"I have a solution," he said smoothly. "One that bypasses the regulatory hurdles and the internal sabotage." "Three years, Julian," she said, tapping a silver

Elena took it. Her hand was cold, but as his fingers closed around hers, a spark of something that wasn't business flickered in her eyes. She put the ring on, the weight of it anchoring her to a lie they both desperately wanted to believe. "To the merger," she said. We are past the point of handshakes

Julian leaned back, the amber liquid in his glass catching the dim light. He wasn't looking at the merger papers. He was looking at the way Elena’s jaw tightened when she was bluffing.

The rain lashed against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Julian’s penthouse, but inside, the silence was more suffocating than the storm. Across the mahogany desk sat Elena, her expression a mask of professional indifference.