The Devil's Dance

Clara's POV

The candlelight at Le Cirque cast shadows across Nathan Chen's impossibly perfect features as he studied me over his wine glass. In my past life, I might have blushed under such intense scrutiny. Now, I met his gaze with equal force.

"The Zhang deal," he said, setting down his glass with deliberate precision. "Tell me how you know about it."

I smiled, letting the silk of my black dress slide slightly off one shoulder. "Careful, Mr. Chen. Information like that doesn't come free."

"Name your price." His voice carried that dangerous edge I was beginning to recognize—the sound of a predator spotting prey.

"You assume I want something that can be bought?"

"Everyone has a price, Clara." He leaned forward, his cologne teasing my senses. "The question is, what's yours?"

"A partnership," I said, matching his posture. "I have information that could make you billions. You have the resources to help me destroy Alexander Reid completely."

Nathan's dark eyes flickered with interest. "And what makes you think I won't destroy you too?"

"Because," I traced the rim of my wine glass, "you're intrigued. I'm a puzzle you can't solve. And men like you can't resist puzzles."

His low chuckle sent shivers down my spine. "You're playing a dangerous game, Clara."

"Life's more fun that way, don't you think?"

The waiter approached with our main course, but Nathan waved him away. "Tell me about the offshore accounts first."

"Which ones?" I took a deliberate sip of wine. "The ones in the Cayman Islands or the secret Swiss accounts?"

His eyes narrowed. "How deeply have you dug, little girl?"

"Deep enough to know that your recent acquisition in Singapore isn't what it seems." I pulled out my phone, showing him a series of transactions. "These numbers don't add up, do they?"

Before he could respond, my phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: You can't hide forever, my dear wife.

"Alexander?" Nathan asked, his jaw tightening.

"He never did know how to lose gracefully." I showed him the message. "See? The threats are already starting."

"Let me handle it." Nathan's hand covered mine, warm and commanding. "I protect what's mine."

"And when did I become yours?"

"The moment you walked into my trap at Café Laurent." He smiled, all white teeth and predatory grace. "Did you really think I didn't plan this too?"

I pulled my hand away. "You're bluffing."

"Am I?" He reached into his jacket, producing a familiar USB drive. "This one contains the real evidence about the Morrison merger. The one you gave me was a decoy."

"How did you—"

"I told you, Clara. I'm always several steps ahead." He poured more wine into my glass. "The question is, why are you really here?"

"Maybe I just enjoy the company."

"No," his fingers brushed my cheek. "You're here because you know something. Something that terrifies even Alexander Reid."

I stood, gathering my clutch. "Thanks for dinner, Mr. Chen. But I don't belong to anyone."

His hand caught my wrist, gentle but firm. "Stay."

"Why should I?"

His eyes darkened. "Because you need me as much as I need you."

"You're very sure of yourself."

"I'm sure about you." He stood, towering over me. "Whatever game you're playing, Clara, I want in."

"And what makes you think you can handle my game?"

His smile was pure sin. "Because I've been watching you longer than you know. The question isn't whether I can handle your game—it's whether you can handle mine."

I turned and walked away without answering, feeling his eyes on me until I disappeared into my waiting car.

Only then did I allow myself to breathe. Nathan Chen was dangerous—more dangerous than I'd anticipated. He saw too much, understood too well.

My phone buzzed with another text from him: Sweet dreams, Clara. Tomorrow, we begin the real game.

I smiled despite myself. Nathan Chen might think he was the puppet master, but I'd learned from my mistakes.

This time, I was writing the script.

And tomorrow would be just the beginning.