A Dish Best Served Cold

Riley

Arcadia is everything I expected: upscale, dark, seductive. The type of place where you make deals that never see the light of day. 

Callum used to talk about it like it was a playground for people like him—those who craved control, power, and secrets. People who got off on the idea that everything had a price, even a person's soul.

He never thought I was smart enough to figure that out. He never thought I was paying attention when he talked about his deals to his friends in front of me. But he was wrong.

The smell of whiskey and cigars fills the air, and soft jazz plays in the background. The patrons here are the elite, but with a sharp edge. Everyone looks polished, but there's an undercurrent of danger in the room, like everyone's playing a game where the stakes are higher than most people can comprehend.

I scan the room, my pulse quickening. I know what I'm looking for; who I'm looking for. Damien Frost. Callum's biggest rival, and the only man ruthless enough to take Callum down.

I spot him near the back, sitting in one of the leather booths like he owns the place. Come to think of it he probably does, too. He's got that air of dominance about him, the kind that makes people hesitate before approaching. 

His black suit is tailored to perfection, hugging his broad frame, and his dark hair is slicked back, a sharp contrast to his piercing blue eyes. Those eyes are cold, calculating, like they see everything and trust nothing. 

He's not like the average billionaire CEOs. The tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt and the ink wrapping around his knuckles tell me he didn't get where he is by playing nice.

Russian-born and ruthless. A man whose name makes people go quiet in the boardrooms. A man Callum respects and fears in equal measure.

And now I'm going to make sure Damien and I have something in common: a shared hatred of Callum Hawthorne.

I approach his table, my heart pounding in my chest, but I keep my face calm, composed. I can't afford to show weakness right now. I'm stepping into the lion's den, and Damien Frost doesn't deal with weakness.

One of his men, a hulking figure with a scowl etched into his face, steps forward as if to stop me. But Damien lifts a hand, motioning for the man to step back, his eyes locking onto mine with mild curiosity.

"Well, this is a surprise," he says, his voice low and smooth with a faint Russian accent. "Riley King, right? You're supposed to be Callum Hawthorne's fiancée. Or is that not the case anymore?"

I can feel the heat rise to my cheeks, but I don't let it fluster me. He already knows I've just walked out on Callum, and it's clear he's intrigued.

"Not anymore," I reply, stepping closer to the table. "That arrangement ended about an hour ago."

Damien leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies me. "And what brings you here to me?"

I take a deep breath, my mind racing through everything I've planned for this moment. This is it. "I know things about Callum—things that could destroy him. I'm here to make a deal with you."

His eyebrow arches slightly, but he doesn't move. "A deal? That's bold, considering you just walked out on your engagement. What makes you think I'm interested?"

"I know you and Callum are competitors," I say, keeping my voice steady. "You've been circling each other for years, but he's always managed to stay one step ahead of you. I can change that. I remember every big deal, every major acquisition, every little detail he let slip because he thought I wasn't paying attention. He thought all I was only a pretty face and underestimated me."

Damien's expression remains unreadable, but there's a flicker of interest in his blue eyes. He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "And what do you want in return?"

I swallow, my palms feeling clammy despite my calm face. "I want to be protected. Callum won't take this lightly when he finds out what I'm doing. And more than that, I want you to marry me."

There it is. The bombshell.

Damien blinks, clearly taken aback, but then a slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face. He leans back again, folding his arms over his chest as he regards me with amusement. 

"Marry you?" he repeats, his voice laced with amusement. "Why in the world would I marry you, Riley King?"

"Because I can give you exactly what you need to take Callum down," I say, my voice steady, though my heart is hammering in my chest. "And you'll enjoy rubbing it in his face when you walk into a room with his ex-fiancée on your arm. It's a win-win."

Damien chuckles softly, shaking his head. "You're confident, I'll give you that. But marrying you? That's quite the commitment for something that might be nothing more than a bluff."

"I'm not bluffing," I reply firmly. "I know exactly how Callum operates. I've been at his side for three years, and I know the inner workings of his empire. I can give you valuable information."

Well, technically it's been more than three years, if you count the two years before we got married. 5 years of information, 5 years of things that still haven't happened yet.

He raises an eyebrow. "Prove it," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "Give me one piece of information. Something I can use. If it works out for me, I'll consider your … offer."

My heart pounds in my chest. This is it. I take a breath, steadying myself, and lean in closer.

"There's a major deal coming up with Ryker Industries—a tech acquisition Callum's been working on for months. In one week, he's going to finalize it. But if you get to them first, offer them a better deal, you can snatch it right out from under him."

His eyes flash with interest, but he doesn't speak, waiting for me to continue.

"I know the terms of the deal," I say. "I know where he's vulnerable. If you make a move now, you can undercut him and take the deal out from under him."

Damien's eyes narrow slightly, his amusement fading as he listens carefully. "And this deal, what's it worth?"

"Billions," I say, my voice steady. "It's a merger that will make Callum untouchable in the tech industry. But if you step in, you can ruin it for him."

He's silent for a long moment, staring at me with those piercing blue eyes like he's trying to see straight through me. I don't blink, don't flinch. I can't afford to.

Damien studies me for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he smirks. "You've done your homework."

"I told you," I reply, my voice calm despite the adrenaline coursing through my veins. "I'm not bluffing."

He leans back again, a slow smile spreading across his face. "If this works out the way you say it will, then we'll have a deal. I'll marry you, show you off, and rub it in Callum's face. But if you're wrong…"

"I'm not," I say, cutting him off. "You'll get exactly what you want."

Damien taps his fingers lightly on the table, his gaze flicking to the glass of whiskey in front of him before returning to me. "You're asking me to marry you on the promise of a single bit of information."

"I'm asking you to marry me in exchange for all the knowledge I have about Callum," I correct him. "This deal is just the beginning."

Another long pause. The tension between us is thick, and I can feel his men watching me closely, waiting for his command. If he decides to say no, if he thinks I'm bluffing, this could go sideways quickly. But I can see the wheels turning in his mind.

Finally, he nods slowly, his smile returning. "Alright. If this deal works out for me, I'll consider your proposal. But don't think for a second that I'm doing this out of kindness. I'll marry you, Riley King, but only because it'll benefit me. I'll show you off, make sure Callum knows exactly what he's lost. And you'll give me every piece of information you have on him."

A wave of relief floods through me, but I don't let it show. This is just the beginning. I nod, keeping my voice calm. "Agreed."

He reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a sleek black phone. He taps the screen a few times before sliding it across the table toward me.

"Your number," he says, his voice cool and commanding. "We'll be in touch."

I take the phone, my fingers steady as I type in my number and hand it back to him. He takes it without a word, slipping it back into his pocket as he picks up his whiskey again.

"One week," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "If this deal goes the way you say it will, we'll discuss our … arrangement."

I nod, standing up from the booth. "I'll be waiting."

He watches me as I turn to leave, his gaze heavy on my back. I can feel the tension in the room, the eyes of the other patrons still on me, but I don't care. I've done what I came here to do.

The first step is done. The game has begun.

And this time, I'm playing to win.