Chapter 210

The morning sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn Sinclair’s penthouse, casting golden streaks across the marble floors. She stood by the window, her fingers wrapped tightly around a steaming cup of coffee, her mind racing with the events of last night.

Nathan Blackwood had kissed her.

Not just any kiss—it was the kind that left her breathless, her pulse erratic, her body humming with an unfamiliar heat. The memory of his lips against hers sent a shiver down her spine.

What the hell was that?

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus. She had a meeting with Preston Whitmore in an hour, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted. Not when her career was on the line.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. A message from Lillian Graves, her assistant:

"Preston just called. He wants to discuss the script changes before the meeting. Also, Victoria Hayes has been asking about you. Again."

Evelyn’s grip on her coffee cup tightened. Victoria Hayes—Nathan’s scheming secretary—was like a persistent shadow, always lurking, always watching.

She typed back: "Tell Preston I’ll be there early. And ignore Victoria."

But even as she sent the message, unease settled in her stomach. Victoria wasn’t the type to be ignored.

Nathan Blackwood sat in his office, staring at the contract in front of him. The merger with Holloway Industries was supposed to be his top priority, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Evelyn.

The way she had melted into him last night. The way her breath hitched when he pulled her closer.

He clenched his jaw. This was dangerous.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he said, his voice clipped.

Victoria Hayes stepped inside, her heels clicking against the hardwood. "Mr. Blackwood, the board is waiting for your decision on the Holloway deal."

Nathan leaned back in his chair, studying her. Victoria was efficient, ruthless—and far too interested in his personal life.

"Tell them I’ll make my decision by the end of the day," he said.

Victoria hesitated. "There’s… something else."

Nathan arched a brow. "What?"

She handed him a tablet. On the screen was a photo—Evelyn, leaving his penthouse at dawn, her hair disheveled, her lips slightly swollen.

Nathan’s blood ran cold.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded.

Victoria smiled, slow and knowing. "Does it matter? The press will have it by noon."

Nathan stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "You’re playing a dangerous game."

Victoria tilted her head. "Or maybe I’m just ensuring you don’t forget where your priorities lie."

Nathan’s phone buzzed. A message from Julian, his brother:

"We need to talk. Now."

Nathan exhaled sharply. Whatever Julian wanted, it couldn’t be good.

And with Evelyn’s photo about to hit the tabloids, the storm was only beginning.

Evelyn stepped into the studio, her heels clicking against the polished floor. Preston Whitmore was already there, flipping through the revised script.

"Evelyn," he greeted, his expression unreadable. "We have a problem."

Her stomach dropped. "What kind of problem?"

Preston handed her a tablet. On the screen was a headline:

"Blackwood’s New Muse? Actress Evelyn Sinclair Spotted Leaving His Penthouse at Dawn."

Evelyn’s breath caught.

The photo beneath it was damning.

Preston sighed. "The studio is concerned. This kind of publicity—"

"Is none of their business," Evelyn snapped.

Preston’s gaze hardened. "It is when it affects the film’s image."

Evelyn clenched her fists. She had worked too hard for this role. She wouldn’t let Nathan—or Victoria—ruin it for her.

But as she stared at the photo, one thought echoed in her mind:

Game on.