Chapter 5: Emotions
1082words
What I hadn't anticipated was how difficult it would be to maintain my hatred for Chris.
Living together in his penthouse apartment, working side by side as his assistant, I'd expected to find evidence of the monster I remembered—some glimpse of the calculating predator who had destroyed my family and ended my life. Instead, I discovered a man whose brilliance in business was matched by an unexpected thoughtfulness in private.
"You're still up," Chris said, finding me in his home office at midnight, surrounded by market reports.
I looked up from my laptop. "Just finishing the analysis for the Singapore meeting."
He leaned against the doorframe, his tie loosened, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms. "It can wait until morning. You've been at it for hours."
"I want to be thorough," I replied, trying to ignore how the soft lighting accentuated the angles of his face.
Chris crossed the room and peered over my shoulder at the screen. His proximity sent an unwelcome flutter through my stomach. "Your attention to detail is impressive. But even brilliant minds need rest."
He placed a cup of chamomile tea beside me—my favorite, I'd mentioned it once in passing weeks ago. These small gestures of consideration had become increasingly common, and increasingly troubling.
"Thank you," I said, closing the laptop. "You're right. I should sleep."
As I stood, our bodies were briefly inches apart. For a moment, neither of us moved. His eyes held mine, and I felt a dangerous pull toward him—a pull that had nothing to do with our business arrangement and everything to do with the man I was coming to know.
"Goodnight, Lara," he said softly, stepping back to give me space.
"Goodnight, Chris."
These moments had been happening more frequently—moments of connection that blurred the lines of our contractual relationship. We'd begun as business partners, evolved into something like friends, and now... now there was an undeniable tension whenever we were alone together.
It terrified me.
Because even as I found myself drawn to this version of Chris, I continued my secret campaign against the Frost Group. As Lady Crain, I systematically targeted companies within their supply chain—small but crucial operations that provided specialized components or services. One by one, I acquired controlling interests, then implemented subtle changes: price increases here, delivery delays there, quality control "improvements" that slowed production.
None of these moves were dramatic enough to raise alarms individually, but collectively they created a steady drain on the Frost Group's resources and efficiency. Their profit margins in certain divisions had already begun to shrink. Chris spent increasingly long hours trying to identify and solve these mysterious operational issues.
"Something doesn't add up," he said one evening as we shared a rare dinner together at home. "These problems shouldn't be happening simultaneously across different suppliers."
I took a sip of wine, hiding my expression behind the glass. "Perhaps it's just market forces. Everything's becoming more competitive."
"No, it's too coordinated." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I'd come to recognize as frustration. "Someone's targeting us."
"Who would do that?" I asked innocently.
Chris shook his head. "I don't know. But I'll find out."
The determination in his voice sent a chill down my spine. If he discovered Lady Crain's identity, everything would unravel. Yet part of me—a growing, troubling part—felt guilty watching him struggle against an invisible enemy. Against me.
The next morning, I found him asleep at his desk, spreadsheets and reports scattered around him. Without waking him, I draped a blanket over his shoulders. My hand lingered longer than necessary, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.
What was happening to me? This man had killed my sister in another life. Had killed me. I couldn't afford to forget that, couldn't allow these growing feelings to distract me from my purpose.
Yet as weeks passed, the line between pretense and reality blurred further. We attended charity galas and business functions as the perfect power couple. His hand on the small of my back felt increasingly natural. Our practiced smiles for photographers began to hold genuine warmth. In meetings, we developed an almost telepathic ability to read each other's thoughts, finishing sentences and supporting arguments seamlessly.
"You two are remarkable together," a business associate commented after we'd successfully negotiated a complex deal. "It's rare to see such perfect partnership."
Chris's eyes met mine across the table, a private smile passing between us. "We complement each other," he said simply.
Later that night, returning home in the back of the town car, an unexpected silence fell between us. The energy had shifted, charged with something neither of us had acknowledged.
"You were brilliant today," he said finally, his voice low.
"We were brilliant," I corrected.
His hand found mine in the darkness between us. I should have pulled away. Instead, my fingers intertwined with his.
When we reached the penthouse, the tension followed us into the elevator. Standing side by side, I could feel the heat radiating from his body, sense his awareness of me. As the doors opened to our floor, he turned to me.
"Lara," he began, his voice husky.
The sound of my name on his lips sent a shiver through me. For a dangerous moment, I imagined leaning into him, discovering if his kiss matched the tenderness I'd glimpsed in other moments.
Instead, I stepped back. "I should check on those reports from Tokyo."
Relief and disappointment warred in his expression. "Of course."
That night, alone in my room, I opened my laptop and logged into Lady Crain's accounts. The latest acquisition was complete—a key logistics provider for the Frost Group's European operations. With a few keystrokes, I could begin the next phase of disruption, tightening the noose around Chris's business empire.
My finger hovered over the enter key.
Images flashed through my mind: Chris bringing me coffee exactly how I liked it; Chris listening intently as I explained my ideas for expanding in emerging markets; Chris's rare, genuine laugh when I'd made a particularly sarcastic comment during a tedious board meeting.
I closed my eyes, and pressed enter.
