In business, there are two types of people: predators and prey. I've always been the predator, because trust is a gamble—and I never play games I can't win. Running a hotel empire demands it. You can't afford to lose—not money, not trust, and certainly not control.

I leaned back in my mahogany chair, the skyline sprawling beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of my corner office. My red dress hugged my curves, and my dark hair was swept into a French bun—poised and perfect, just like everything else about my life. Or so I made sure it seemed.

"Mr. Willis is here to see you," my assistant, Jones, announced through the intercom.

"Send him in," I replied, my fingers lightly brushing the engraved nameplate on my desk—Isabella Armstrong, President of Hotel Ocean Blue.

Mr. Willis, one of my father's trusted employees, entered, his nervousness palpable.

"You wanted to see me, Isabella?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," I said coolly. "Care to explain this?" I slid a file across the desk.

His eyes widened as he glanced at the contents, a bead of sweat forming on his forehead.

"I... I can explain..."

"You've been embezzling funds. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

He remained silent, avoiding my gaze.

"You're fired," I said. "Security will escort you out. I suggest you retain legal counsel."

His face turned pale. "You can't do this! I've worked here for years. I helped your father build this company—"

"So you thought that excused embezzlement? I can tolerate incompetence, but not theft."

He looked defeated. "Your father wouldn't do this. He'd give me a second chance."

"I'm not my father. I don't give second chances, Mr. Willis. Be grateful I'm not having you taken out in handcuffs."

He stood, his white hands forming fists. "You're a merciless bitch who values no one but herself. Mark my words, someday you'll be at the mercy of others."

I eyed him coolly. "All I care about is that you're making me late for an award."

Security arrived, and he left with them. Seconds later, Jones rushed in and tapped his watch.

"Five minutes."

My eyes widened. "Shit." I got up from the chair and grabbed my purse. "Is the car ready?" I started for the door, and he followed me out.

"Yes, Steve is waiting—"

"No, not Steve. Tell him to get the red Porsche ready. I want to drive myself tonight."

He chuckled. "Did Lewis say something?"

My lips curved. "Something about me being a merciless stuck-up bitch," I said, pushing the buttons to call the elevator. "Then I realised he was wrong. I'm a woman who loves power and values honesty. Apparently, being upfront about who you are is a crime.

The doors opened, and we walked inside the elevator. I turned around and faced the mirror, checking my makeup. In fact, I looked like I had just finished doing my makeup, so at least I didn't get creases over the duration of the time I spent talking to Lewis.

"Oh, no," came Jones' loud groan beside me.

I turned. "What?"

He quickly put his phone down. "Nothing."

"Jones, spit it out."

He hesitated. "Not unless we get you your lemon juice first."

Lemon juice?

Jones only recommended lemon juice when he was about to deliver bad news that he knew I'd hate. The last time I had lemon juice was two weeks ago when I lost the bid to acquire a company I had set my eyes on. My ego was still healing from that loss.

"Jones...."

The elevator opened, and he quickly stepped out first, adding, "But on second thought, why don't you skip the award? It's not like you care."

"Jones, you're dying to lose your bonus, aren't you?"

He stopped walking and sighed. "My informant just told me we lost the award."

"The ceremony hasn't even started yet," I pointed out.

"That's why it's called an informant, Isabella."

My heart skipped a beat, and my narrowed eyes betrayed my concern. "What? Don't tell me...."

He winced. "Yes..."

"Motherfucker!" I flung my purse against the wall, cursing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"This is good," Jones said. "It could have been bad. Imagine sitting in the audience and hearing Montgomery Hotel's name and seeing William walk up to the stage. Now imagine that arrogant, six-foot devil smile on his face making a speech."

I could imagine it....

William Montgomery.

Of all the hotels, of all the damn people in the world, how could William Montgomery end up beating me twice in the same month?

God, I hated that arrogant, smug son of a bitch.

Everyone in the hotel industry knew our rivalry. Unlike me, he came from old money, so he fitted right in with the assholes who worshipped him. He didn't have anything to prove to anyone. He was just that good, like he was blessed with a boon of success.

We were known for pushing each other to the limits, each striving to outshine the other. There were no rules to success, and William had mastered the art of winning. He was a rich, spoiled bastard with a reputation for being acutely intelligent, flirtatious, and greedy for other people's things.

And he was also the one who won the bid on the company I wanted to acquire two weeks ago.

Now, he took the award that was supposed to be mine.

After I calmed down, I took a deep breath and looked at Jones, who was still unsure whether to approach or I was going to have another breakdown.

"I'm going."

His eyes bulged. "You are?"

"Well, I can't exactly hide. If I'm going to lose, I should lose with pride and dignity."

"Pride and dignity." He chuckled. "Yesterday, you popped a kid's balloon because he scored more goals than you. You don't take loss well, Isabella."

I scoffed. "Watch me."

***

Envy burned in my chest as I stepped out of my Porsche and faced the towering skyscraper that seemed to brush the sky.

With a confident stride, I made my way into the grand ballroom, the sound of applause and conversation filling the air. Few eyes turned to me as I entered.

I flashed a charming smile, greeting familiar faces and shaking hands with some before finding my seat.

Much to my surprise and annoyance, there was someone seated on the chair beside mine, his head—a foot higher than any other.

His eyes raised to mine.

His mouth twitched.

Did he do this on purpose?

Of course.

He lived to irritate me. And he barely needed to try—the sight of his smug face was enough.

William Montgomery was all dimples, square jaw, and white teeth, looking sharp in his navy suit and crisp white shirt, with tall, muscular stature and big, green eyes.

He had dark brown hair with a curl, sharp cheekbones, and full lips, looking like a model.

I tried to avoid his existence, but he shifted his chair close to mine and leaned in. "You missed the fun," he whispered, his voice husky and sexual.

It became impossible to ignore him, so I huffed and turned back to him. "I didn't miss anything."

His eyes gleamed behind thick lashes. "You missed my speech."

"I have heard you talk so many times, trust me when I say I didn't miss anything."

I hated how good he smelled — a combination of a freshly chopped oak tree and something clean.

He leaned back a bit, relaxed and confident, cool and calculating. "No, but I missed seeing the look on your face when my name got called on stage to take the award I knew you wanted."

"Are you here to brag?"

"Unfortunately, yes. When do I ever get to piss you off? Oh, yeah, that was when I got Valley View. How does it feel to lose to me twice in a row, Izzy?"

"Like a volcano in my mouth."

He brushed his pointer finger over his lips, as if amused. "I truly love your honesty."

"Yeah? Here's another one. You're a piece of shit, Montgomery."

Thank God no one was paying attention to us.

"Cute. You've always been cute." He gave me a slow, sexy smile, loving every minute of this. "I think that's why I find you so fucking hot." His voice grew low and deep, soft as velvet, dark as ever. "Look at you, in that dress and hair, your red lips just so fucking plump and sweet. I could just taste you on my lips." He smacked his lips together.

The skin on my neck tingled, as if he whispered those words in my ear.

I swallowed the lump in my throat as we stared at each other.

His hand landed on my knee. For a moment, all I registered was the heat and size of his palm, which felt large enough to wrap clear round my thigh if he wanted. It was a little too easy to picture how his hand might slide farther.

"Save it." I gave a quick glare, which said 'get your hand off my fucking knee.' "You're not even trying hard enough. Lost your touch already?"

His mouth twitched in response, and he gave my leg one final firm squeeze before he released me.

"That's a family gene. You never lose it." He picked imaginary lint off the arm of his overpriced suit, noticing the cuff links and the Rolex watch.

"Why are you at my table?" I ask, my patience being tested.

"Because you're the only one I want to be close to."

"I said drop it, William. I called off the bet, didn't I?"

Three years ago, we made a bet: the first one to admit they were in love with the other would lose.

It started as a way to mock the tension between us, but it quickly turned into a long-running game of pride and stubbornness, a cover-up for what we both knew had happened between us.

Before that night, we were at least cordial with each other. There was no pressure of rivalry, just a mutual respect and attraction. But everything changed when we crossed the line and slept with each other.

Instead of owning up to our actions, we disregarded each other's feelings and preferred to maintain our pride by making this ridiculous bet, which only intensified our rivalry.

But playing a long game where you compete to see who could admit their feelings first was insane—it was our way of avoiding the truth.

"Just because you said the words doesn't mean the bet is off. The heavens heard it. It's not off until you admit that you're a little bit in love with me."

"And I keep telling you that I'm not."

We were rivals.

We hated each other's guts.

We could not be anything but.

That was why the game had dragged on for so long, with neither of us willing to give in. It was a test of our pride and the strange, twisted bond we shared.

He sat forward, his purpose renewed. "You say that, but you are. You say you hate me, but you indulge me. You know me better than anyone. Hell, you know all my passwords and my deepest secret. What does that tell you?"

"That we share an unhealthy relationship I want no part of."

"Isabella, don't be mean." His voice was wrapped in velvet; a voice made for giving orders you couldn't resist.

For the rest of the ceremony, I ignored him. When it was over, I got up before he realised that I was gone.

Meeting with Ryan and Gemma Hardy, a couple who were hotel owners and good friends of my family's, I put on a smile.

"Isabella." They greeted me with hugs and kisses.

"You look beautiful, darling."

"Thank you. You look incredible," I said, noticing Gemma's elegance. "I didn't think the both of you would be here."

"We had an emergency at the hotel, so we had to come back," Ryan said.

"Oh my god, is everything okay?"

"Just a minor problem that was sorted out. What about you? Are you okay?"

I chuckled. "People lose awards all the time. It's no big deal," I said with a shrug.

Gemma patted my arm. "But it's William. I know how you feel about him."

"Competition is competition, Gemma. There will be losers and there will be winners. I just happen to lose this time."

"Don't forget the other time as well," William said, his voice laced with amusement.

I turned to see him standing there with a smirk.

Our eyes locked, and the energy between us was palpable as if our bodies were speaking to each other without words.

"I won't lose to you again," I declared.

"Oh, sweetheart, get used to this feeling because you're going to be feeling it for a long time. It's your new best friend," he teased, stepping closer.

My smile widened at his audacity, a competitive glint in my eyes. "You think so?"

"I know so."

"Wanna bet?"

He sipped his drink. "There are rules, Isabella." The air swirled between us as his eyes dropped to my lips. "You can't bet on an existing bet."

"You're just scared you're going to lose this time."

William stepped closer. "Being scared is a foreign concept to me."

"Then it's a deal." I leaned in. "We each choose a rundown hotel in a prime location. The one who can renovate and reopen their hotel to critical acclaim first wins. Winner takes all."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "What does the loser get?"

My smile turned into a sly grin. "The loser has to donate to a charity of the winner's choice and publicly acknowledge their superior skills in a full-page ad in a magazine."

"You're not holding back, are you?"

"Not when it comes to winning."

"Since the terms are on you, I'm adding bonus content," he said with a smirk.

"For fuck's sake, William."

"Ah, ah," he tutted. "The bet is on your terms, Iz. It would be selfish of you to not let me add something to it."

"Fine."

He puts his lips to my ear. "The old bet stays. This time, the loser admits their love."

"I'm not in love with you."

He put his lips to my ear. "Liar."

His breath tickled my skin and sent goosebumps scattering down my arms.

"Will you stop it?" I whispered as I looked around, uncomfortable with my body's reaction to him.

"Isabella." He leaned in to whisper in my ear again. "Are you in or are you not, my precious rival?"

I smirked. "I'm in, my sick, demented rival."

William pulled back and his green eyes met mine. He gave me another slow, sexy smile before holding his glass in the air toward me, as if to signify the start of a war.

Game on.