Undressed By His Arrogance

Joey sighed and continued, "For fuck’s sake, man, find a more private place for this reunion. I know you, Winn—you’re about two seconds away from making this entire groundbreaking about your heartbreak. Don’t hand them the headline giftwrapped."

Winn exhaled through his nose. Finally, he nodded—once, curtly—acknowledging Joey’s logic. But his eyes never moved. Not once. They stayed locked on Ivy.

This was a story for the ages, and they all knew it. The runaway bride, showing up at her ex’s biggest professional event of his career.

The press could smell blood in the air—and the two of them, standing on opposite ends of the site, were the perfect spectacle.

Joey followed his gaze, groaned under his breath, and muttered, "And quit looking at her like you want to take her clothes off for God’s sake. Even though, knowing you, you probably do." He gave Winn a side-eye.

"You’re practically eye-fucking her in front of thirty cameras. At least have the decency to blink once in a while."

And as Ivy glanced up at that exact moment, their eyes met—hers wide and guarded, his fierce and unyielding.

The noise of the crowd faded, the music dulled.

And if the cameras caught that moment, Winn didn’t give a damn.

*****

Ivy had been preparing for this moment for months. The night she lost her baby girl, that fragile, perfect being who had never even drawn her first breath, Ivy had sworn an oath so dark it scared her.

She had stood in that hospital room and promised her daughter that she would take down Tom Kane — the man who had turned her life into a living purgatory.

The man who had orchestrated her ruin, manipulated her future, and shattered her womb and heart in one move.

And now, here she was, standing under the blinding glare of cameras and the hot sting of summer air on her skin, face carefully powdered, a study in poise and control.

No one here knew the kind of storm that lived under her dress, in the silent quake of her chest, in the hidden scar that stretched across her heart.

She had told herself she was ready. That she would be cold, untouchable, poised as marble when she saw Winn again.

She had practiced it, again and again in front of mirrors, training her smile to be polite but detached, her eyes to stay dry even when her heart ached for him. She’d told herself that the next time she saw Winn Kane, she would feel nothing.

But the human heart was treacherous.

Because the very moment their eyes met across that open expanse — that moment when the noise of the crowd dulled and the cameras blurred into white — Ivy’s carefully built defenses began to crumble.

Her breath caught. The world seemed to tilt. For one terrifying heartbeat, she forgot why she had come here, forgot the mission.

Get a grip, she told herself, fingers tightening around the strap of her purse. He’s angry, that’s good. Anger means distance. Anger means control.

And he was angry. She could see it in the stiff line of his shoulders, in the way his jaw clenched as he looked at her — the fire that burned in his eyes was betrayal, confusion, and pain all tangled.

It should have made her smile, should have strengthened her resolve. If he hated her, then she could keep her distance. If he hated her, she could finish what she came here to do without guilt gnawing at her insides.

But it didn’t.

She forced her feet to move. The cameras followed her, flashing relentlessly as if desperate to capture every flicker of emotion on her face.

She would destroy Tom Kane. She had to. The man had stolen her future, her peace — and in doing so, he had also stolen Winn from her. Ivy had no illusions about ever getting her happy ending again.

She tore her gaze away from Winn and headed for the long table where the European investors sat. She slipped into business mode, shoulders back, spine straight.

The table was a hive of murmurs, laughter, and glasses clinking. Bernard was the first to notice her. His eyes widened.

"Miss Morales!!!" he exclaimed in his rich Dutch accent, half rising from his chair to greet her.

Ivy smiled. "Good evening," she said, extending her hand gracefully. "It’s really nice to see you again. I’m here on behalf of Everest this evening. I hope you’re having a splendid time so far?"

The group erupted in polite greetings.

"You work with Everest now?" Wilhelm asked. "You and Mr Kane had quite the whirlwind of a romance. And now you work with Everest? Life has a twisted sense of humor, doesn’t it?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Everything happens for a reason," she said.

"We’ll be seeing a lot more of each other from now on. I’ll be keeping you constantly updated on the progress Mr Kane makes, and I’ll provide an estimated completion timeline for the mall before the quarter ends."

She let her gaze sweep across the table, utterly in control.

"Everest is committed to maintaining transparency and ensuring this project reaches its full potential. I want you all to rest assured — there’s no friction between House of Kane and Everest. We’re aligned on every front."

Her delivery was perfect.

Bernard clapped his hands once, delighted. "Magnifique!"

Simon leaned forward, folding his hands together. "I was afraid the partnership wasn’t going to work," he said earnestly. "But great job so far."

"Oh, let’s give credit where credit is due. Mr. Kane is to be praised for the progress so far." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Looks like she still sings my praises."

The voice sliced through her defenses before she could blink. That deep baritone—so confident, so infuriatingly male—rolled through her. Winn Kane. He was standing behind her now. Her heart did a ridiculous flip-flop. Steady, Ivy. Steady.

She forced her spine straight, swallowing the sudden wave of heat that climbed up her neck.

(Veyron Sweetheart, Alchemist: You have queen for a day. Ask any questions.)