10. Christian/ V
10
CHRISTIAN/ V
CHRISTIAN
I leaned against the balcony of my penthouse, a mug of hot coffee in hand, the golden liquid catching the ambient glow of the skyline.
My mind was still at the lake house—Scarlett’s laugh, the way she felt curled against me, the whispered promise in her eyes.
I told myself I’d give her space, let her settle back into her world before pulling her into mine again.
But then my phone rang.
Her name flashed on the screen, and instantly, my chest tightened.
Scarlett wasn’t the type to call without a reason.
I answered immediately. “Scarlett?”
There was a sharp inhale on the other end, like she wasn’t sure if she should’ve called at all.
“Christian… I—” She exhaled. “I need your help.”
I straightened, every nerve in my body on alert. “What happened?”
“My shipment. It was canceled.” Her voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the frustration, the exhaustion. “We have a major event tomorrow, and without it?—”
I didn’t need her to finish. I already knew what was at stake.
Whoever cancelled her shipment, was that same person also responsible for that Luxe Dining article?
A slow, dangerous burn ignited in my chest. I clenched my jaw, forcing my voice to stay even. “Where are you now?”
“At Amélie. I just got here. I’m trying to figure out if I can source the ingredients elsewhere, but it’s—” She hesitated. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”
“Stay there. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Christian, you don’t have to?—”
“I’ll be there.” I ended the call before she could argue.
I barely remembered grabbing my keys or getting into my car, only that I was furious.
Not just at whoever had pulled this stunt, but at the fact that Scarlett had to deal with it alone.
When I arrived at Amélie, the place was nearly empty, save for Scarlett and her manager, Renée, who looked equally frazzled.
Scarlett had her arms crossed, her phone clutched tightly in her hand.
The moment she saw me, something in her expression softened, like she hadn’t realized how much she needed me until now.
I went straight to her. “Tell me everything,” I said.
She exhaled. “The supplier swears they got a notice from us to cancel the shipment. I didn’t send it. No one from my team did.”
Of course, they didn’t. This wasn’t just bad luck. It was sabotage.
I turned to Renée. “How much do we need?”
“Enough to feed three hundred guests,” she said.
I didn’t even blink. “Done.”
Scarlett’s brows furrowed. “Christian?—”
“I’ll make a call. We’ll get the shipment here before morning.” I pulled out my phone and walked a few steps away, dialing a contact who owed me a favor.
Scarlett followed, lowering her voice. “I appreciate the help, I do, but this is my problem?—”
I turned to face her, my patience thinning. “It was your problem. Now it’s ours.”
She stared at me, lips parted slightly. “Ours?”
I stepped closer, my voice dropping. “Scarlett, I didn’t get into this partnership just to stand on the sidelines while someone tries to take you down. You’re not in this alone.”
Her throat bobbed, her defenses wavering.
I brushed my knuckles against her cheek, voice softening. “Let me help you.”
She swallowed hard, then finally—finally—nodded.
I made the call. Within minutes, the problem was solved.
The shipment would be rushed in by morning, courtesy of a vendor I had on speed dial.
When I hung up, Scarlett let out a shaky breath.
“Just like that?” she asked.
I nodded. “Just like that.”
We ended up in her office after that, exhaustion catching up with both of us.
She leaned against her desk, arms wrapped around herself, and for the first time all night, she looked small and tired.
I crossed the room, placing my hands on her arms, running slow circles with my thumbs. “It’s handled.”
Her lips parted, her breath hitching slightly.
And then, as if something in her finally snapped, she reached for me.
Her hands fisted in my shirt, pulling me down into a kiss that stole my breath.
I didn’t hesitate. I deepened the kiss, sliding my arms around her waist, lifting her onto the desk.
She gasped against my lips, legs parting just enough for me to step between them.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling, demanding.
I obliged, kissing her deeper, sliding my hands down her back, memorizing the curves of her body.
She made a sound low in her throat, a desperate little noise that sent a shudder through me.
I broke away just enough to meet her gaze.
Her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with want.
“I don’t know what this is between us,” she whispered. “But I want it.”
I brushed my fingers along her jaw. “Then have it.”
For once, she didn’t argue.
She just kissed me again.
It was hours later when I finally carried her to my car, exhaustion weighing on both of us. She curled into my side as I drove, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on my palm.
When I pulled up to her building, I expected her to say goodnight.
Instead, she looked at me with an expression that made my blood heat all over again.
“Come upstairs,” she said softly.
I didn’t need to be asked twice.
The second the door closed behind us, she was in my arms again.
We barely made it to the bedroom before clothes were shed, before hands and lips replaced words.
And when it was over, when she lay tangled in my sheets, bare and beautiful, I knew?—
This wasn’t just business anymore.
It never had been.
V
The headline made her stomach turn.
AMéLIE STUNS AT EXCLUSIVE EVENT—A NIGHT OF CULINARY PERFECTION.
V clenched her jaw as she scrolled through the article, each glowing paragraph only adding to the fury simmering beneath her skin.
Scarlett Lane delivers yet another flawless evening, proving why Amélie remains one of the most sought-after dining experiences in the city.
She didn’t just recover. She thrived.
V pressed a manicured nail against the desk, tapping in irritation.
She hadn’t thought Scarlett would be able to bounce back from the shipment cancellation so easily.
She had timed it perfectly—just close enough to the event to send Amélie into a downward spiral.
Yet, somehow, Scarlett had won.
No, not somehow.
Christian.
V’s lips curled in disgust. That was the only explanation.
He had stepped in and saved Scarlett like some knight in shining armor, reinforcing her delusions that she could play in the same league.
She inhaled slowly, exhaling through her nose. This wasn’t over.
Scarlett might have escaped this round, but V wasn’t finished with her.
She picked up her phone and dialed.
The voice on the other end answered immediately. “Ma’am?”
“I want Amélie shut down,” she said, her tone cool, controlled. “Temporarily, at least. Enough to cause damage.”
A pause. “You want an inspection?”
“No. I want a violation.”
Another hesitation. “That could get tricky.”
V smiled. “Then I suggest you find someone willing to get their hands dirty.”