The billionaire secret

ia's

managed to hold my ground against him, and I'd left feeling a mix of triumph and frustration. He was toying with me, and I

d in my inbox the next morning,

rested in exploring the story behind my projects, I would like to offer you a more personal persp

asons to decline; professionalism, caution, my gut warning me that getting closer to Alexander was like stepping into quicksand. But my curiosity was stronger. He was

I typed a simple response:

out seeming like I was trying too hard. In the end, I chose a classic black dress, fitted but not revealing, elegant witho

ed and sophisticated, tucked away on a quiet street downtown, its intimate lighting casting a warm glow over dark wood and deep red furni

re d' approached me with a p

eady there, seated at a private table with a bottle of wine chilling in a silver bucket beside him.

ice low and velvety. "I'm

ice surprisingly steady. "T

at ease, every move exuding confidence, while I struggled to ignore the butterflies that had taken up residence in m

u'd accept," he said

eyebrow. "I'm a journalist. I

e you don't. But this is a bit mo

I wasn't just here for the story. I met his gaze head-on, refusing to be in

ned back in his chair, studying me as if I were a puzzle he couldn't quite solve. "I was impress

steady myself. "It's my job to ask

e asked, leaning forward slightly.

ng his intensity. "Are yo

a shiver run down my spine. "I suppose t

ion stayed safe, about the challenges of building in Manhattan, his latest project's impact on the community, the politics of lux

is hands; strong and capable, resting casually on the table, or to the way his voice deepened when he spoke about his

d nothing to do with the story I was chasing. I pulled my hand back quickly, but he'd noticed. His eyes

ice quieter, more intimate. "Most reporters... they wa

intensity of his gaze. "Maybe I'm looking

voice dropping to a whisper. "And what

nspoken and dangerous. I could have told him everything, that I was after the story of his sister, that I suspected him of hi

uth," I said simply. "W

is glass against mine. "To the truth," he said, h

with fire. Alexander Grant was more dangerous than I'd imagined, and I wasn't sure

han necessary. He offered to have his driver take me home, but I declined. I needed to clear my head, to ma

hallenge. I had survived it, but I wasn't sure if I'd won. Alexander had given me just enough to keep me hooked, but I

wn. This was only the beginning, and the stakes were gettin