Island Kisses

"Tell me this isn't your fault, Vance."

Amelia Roth didn't bother standing when Leo stormed into her office. She didn't flinch when the glass doors slammed shut behind him. Her heels were propped on the corner of her desk, a leather folder open in front of her, and her voice sharp enough to leave marks.

Across the room, Leo Vance's jaw ticked just enough to betray that she'd already hit a nerve.

> "Good morning to you too, Roth. Coffee? Or just caffeine-free aggression today?"

He was dressed in sin: a black-on-black suit, undone collar, and that goddamn smirk that had sunk more negotiations than scandal ever could. Amelia's pulse didn't flicker. Not for him.

> "Spare me the charm," she said, shutting the folder. "Because unless you can explain why our stock just tanked twelve percent in three hours, I'm calling your father and suggesting we burn your name off this deal before the SEC has a chance."

Leo's lips parted amused, not surprised.

> "You think I leaked it?"

> "I think you exist to be a problem. I think this is exactly your brand of sabotage. And I think I'm one call away from crushing your company and salting the ground it was built on."

> "Always such violent metaphors," he said, walking toward her desk. "Tell me, Amelia. Do you speak to everyone like you're auditioning for the role of Ice Queen? Or am I special?"

> "You're not special. You're a headline waiting to happen."

> "Aren't we all?" He pulled out the chair across from her and sat like he owned the floor beneath it. "But here's the thing. This leak hurts me too. And I don't like bleeding in public."

Amelia's eyes narrowed. She folded her hands over the desk.

> "Talk."

Leo's cocky grin faded just enough to make room for something dangerous.

> "This wasn't a random hack. The files that went out were internal. Confidential. They had both Roth and Vance merger plans attached. That means someone on the inside of this joint venture wants us dead."

> "Then find them and fire them."

> "Oh, I intend to. But first, we have a press conference in two hours. And like it or not " he leaned forward, dropping a printed headline in front of her, " the press already thinks we're screwing."

She didn't look at the paper. She looked at him. Hard.

> "We aren't."

> "That's not what this says." Leo's finger tapped the bold red title: Roth and Vance: Bedroom Deal or Corporate Merger?

He grinned again. More wolf than man.

> "I guess we're trending."

Amelia stood, slowly. She walked around the desk, each step a calculated threat.

> "If you think I'll play along with some tabloid fantasy "

> "Then I'll show them the truth." Leo's voice dropped. "That you're ruthless. Cold. And completely under my skin."

They stood chest to chest. Her perfume hit him like a sin he'd regret. His breath tickled her jaw.

> "This isn't high school, Vance."

> "Could've fooled me. You just called my dad."

Her mouth twitched. Not a smile. Not quite.

> "Leave."

> "I will. After we make a deal."

> "What deal?"

> "We fake it," he said, simple. "A truce. Public unity. You and me, playing nice for the cameras. Hell, let's give them what they want. Let's flirt at galas, smile for the media. Pretend we don't want to slit each other's throats."

Amelia's nails dug into her palm.

> "Pretend we don't?"

> "Pretend I haven't wanted to touch you since I saw you destroy that VP in Singapore last year."

Silence slammed between them.

Then, he turned for the door.

> "I'll send the PR team your measurements for a joint photo shoot," he said. "Try to wear something soft. It'll make you seem human."

He left before she could throw something at his head.

Amelia sat stone-still in the Roth-Vance conference room as Charles Vance paced and her father polished his rage behind thin glasses.

> "This is beyond damage control," Charles growled. "This is an all-out attack."

> "We've been undercut," William Roth agreed. "By someone with access to both infrastructures."

> "And the press already has their narrative," Leo added, lounging like a prince at war. "Us. Together. Destroying everything."

> "Then lean into it," Charles said. "Give them what they want."

Amelia's head snapped up.

> "You're suggesting we stage a relationship?"

> "I'm suggesting you become the solution to the scandal. Co-leads. Public partnership. And yes if the chemistry looks real, let them believe it."

> "It's a lie," she bit out.

> "It's strategy," Leo corrected. "You know, the thing you're so famous for."

She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him.

She hated that both urges felt the same.

Later that evening, a sleek black envelope waited on her desk.

Roth-Vance Charity Gala

Tomorrow. 7PM. Arrive together.

Underneath, Leo had written in his lazy, scrawling pen:

> We should at least pretend to like each other. Wear red. I'll match your sin.

Amelia stared at the note for a long time.

Then she picked up her phone and dialed Chloe.

> "What's the sexiest, most 'fuck around and find out' dress I can wear to a PR gala?"

The next night, Amelia walked into the gala on Leo's arm.

Flashes erupted around them like fireworks. His hand grazed her bare back. Her body betrayed her with goosebumps.

> "Careful," she whispered. "I bite."

> "Good," he murmured, lips near her ear. "I bruise."

They smiled for the cameras.

Enemies. Liars. Lovers in the making.

And somewhere across the ballroom, a pair of eyes watched through the scope of a hidden lens.

A red laser blinked once on Amelia's dress.

Click.

Photo captured.

> You're playing a dangerous game, Roth.

And someone just raised the stakes.