Chapter 13: Power Play

She crossed her arms, refusing to back down. I shot her a cool look, daring her to push further.

“You doubt me?” Harrison finally glanced at her.

His tone was ice, the warning clear. Harper shrank back, chastened.

He smiled, but his eyes were cold.

The message was clear: in this world, reputation was everything.

The Whitmore Group runs the global fashion game. Harrison’s word is gospel.

The crowd accepted his verdict, the matter closed. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, ready to play.

Harper didn’t dare meet his gaze, just glared at me from the sidelines.

Her resentment simmered, but she knew better than to challenge Harrison in public.

We played only one round.

The cards flew, tension thick. I kept my face blank, giving nothing away.

I hadn’t had enough, but the man tore up the cards in frustration.

He slammed his fist on the table, cards scattering. The crowd gasped, scandalized by his tantrum.

I felt a pang of regret—no one had wanted to play cards with me in years.

I traced the table’s edge, nostalgia flickering. The thrill of the game, the rush of victory—I missed it more than I’d admit.

The vast yacht hall fell silent except for the man’s ragged breathing.

All eyes were on me, waiting to see what I’d do.

I picked up the watch and handed it to Harrison.

He took it, our fingers brushing—a spark of electricity.

He ignored the expensive watch, taking the handkerchief from my hand instead.

His eyes softened, rare vulnerability flickering. I let him hold it, a silent promise passing between us.

I set the watch back on the table, smiling gently at the red-eyed loser.

He glared, but I offered a polite nod. There was no satisfaction in humiliation—victory was enough.

Harrison and I left together, heading straight to his suite.

The hallways were quiet, anticipation thick. I followed him, heart pounding.

“How many secrets are you hiding from me, hmm?”

He pinned me to the door, unhurried, grinning.

His hands bracketed my waist, his body warm against mine. I looked up, unafraid.

“It’s just cards. What’s so surprising?”

I shrugged, playing coy. He laughed, the sound low and dangerous.

“Winning doesn’t surprise me. What does is that you dared to cheat.”

His eyes sparkled, admiration and amusement mixing. I grinned, unrepentant.

He chuckled, voice low: “Savannah, you really are something.”