Chapter 2 Chapter 2

Seline’s Pov

There was a heavy pause. I could practically feel him gripping the phone hard enough to crack it. “You think this is over?” he growled. “I’m going to bury you.”

I laughed softly. “You can try, Riker. But we both know you’re better at fucking models than winning real wars," I said sweetly.

“Careful,” he said, his voice dropping into something darker. “Keep running that pretty mouth, and I might decide to shut it up myself.”

A strange heat flickered in my stomach. I hated that my body even reacted to the threat in his voice. “Big words for a man whose stock is currently bleeding out,” I replied coldly. “Enjoy the red numbers, darling.” I hung up before he could respond. Ashely raised an eyebrow at me. “That was him, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes.” I said, "I put my phone down on the table." “He’s pissed," said

“Good. "Let him stay pissed," she replied, but something told me that Knox Riker wasn’t the type to just take a loss and move on, and I was right.

Two weeks later

The charity auction for some children’s hospital was supposed to be a boring, predictable night, and it was until Knox Riker walked in with a six-foot-tall Brazilian supermodel on his arm and made a record-breaking donation of ten million dollars just to win the spotlight. I was sitting three tables away, wearing a backless black gown, when our eyes locked across the room and he smirked. Then he leaned down and kissed the model like he was trying to prove something. His hand slid possessively down her back as cameras flashed around them. He wanted a reaction from me, but I gave him nothing.

Instead, I turned to the handsome tech investor sitting beside me, Marcus Hale, and laughed at something he said, touching his arm lightly. I made sure Knox had a perfect view. The game had officially begun. Later that night, as I was leaving the event, a tall shadow stepped in front of me near the valet. Fucking Riker.

No model this time, just him in a perfectly tailored tux, looking like sin and violence wrapped in luxury. He stared down at me, blue eyes burning. “You think you can keep embarrassing me in public?” he asked, voice low enough that only I could hear.

I tilted my head, meeting his gaze without flinching. “You embarrassed yourself when you stole from me. I’m just making sure everyone knows what kind of man you are.”

He stepped closer, too close. The scent of his cologne hit me; it was dark, expensive, and masculine. “One day,” he said slowly, “that smart mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”

I smiled up at him, sweet and poisonous. “And one day, Knox Riker, you’re going to learn that I don’t kneel for anyone. Especially not you.”

I stepped around him and walked toward my waiting car, feeling his eyes burning into my back the entire way. That was only the second battle, and there would be hundreds more.

The war escalated faster than I expected. Within a month, Knox Riker had retaliated like the ruthless bastard he was.

He poached two of my top executives, the head of digital strategy and my best data analyst, offering them obscene salaries and signing bonuses that made my legal team’s jaws drop. Then, just to twist the knife, he leaked a manipulated story that Whitmore Media was struggling financially.

My stock dipped. Not badly, but enough to piss me off. So I hit back harder. I had Eli dig up dirt on one of Riker Tech’s major defense contracts. Nothing illegal, just enough “ethical concerns” about civilian data privacy to make a few senators nervous. The contract didn’t get canceled, but it got delayed by six weeks, and the scrutiny cost him millions. We were both bleeding money just to hurt each other and yet… every time we ended up in the same room, the air felt electric.

It was the annual Tech & Media Summit in Manhattan, the one event neither of us could skip. I walked into the grand ballroom wearing a sleek emerald green dress that hugged every curve of my body. My hair was up in a stylish updo, I had diamonds in my ears, and my resting bitch face was firmly in place.

I felt him before I saw him. Riker, he was standing in the center of the room, surrounded by investors and two women who were practically draped over him. He was wearing a black three-piece suit that made him look even more dangerous than usual. When our eyes met across the crowded space, his lips curved into that signature smirk, the one that said he wanted to either fuck me or destroy me. Probably both.

I ignored him and headed toward the bar. Before I could order, a deep voice spoke right behind me. “Still pretending you’re not obsessed with me, Whitmore?” he asked. I turned slowly, with the champagne glass in my hand, and looked up into those cold blue eyes.

“Obsessed?” I let out a soft laugh. “The only thing I’m obsessed with is watching your empire crumble piece by piece.”

He stepped closer, invading my personal space like he had every right to. The scent of his cologne wrapped around me again, dark amber and something dangerously addictive.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear. “Keep pushing me and I might stop being polite.”

“Polite?” I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know the meaning of the word 'polite.' You’re just a spoiled rich boy who’s never been told no.”

His gaze dropped to my lips for a split second before returning to my eyes. The tension between us crackled like electricity. “Careful,” he warned, leaning in until his breath brushed my ear. 

“One day I’m going to make you eat every fucking word that comes out of that smart mouth," he said, and a shiver ran down my spine. I hated my body for reacting to him.

I tilted my head and smiled sweetly. “You’d have to make me kneel first, Riker, and we both know that’s never going to happen.” Before he could reply, I walked away, putting an extra sway in my hips just to fuck with him.

The real bomb dropped three days later. I was in my office when Ashely burst in, looking unusually stressed. “Seline… we have a situation," she said.

I frowned. “What now?”

“The government consortium for the new AI infrastructure project just released the shortlist. They want a partnership between a major tech company and a media empire.” She paused, looking uncomfortable.

“And?” I asked.

“They’re only considering two teams.” She swallowed. “Riker Tech… and us, but there’s a condition.” From the way she said it, I already knew I wasn’t going to like it.

“They’re requiring a temporary merger, for full collaboration and to guarantee commitment…” She took a deep breath. "They're demanding the CEOs enter into a marriage contract for the duration of the project for the period of eighteen months minimum.”