Chapter 2

Mike stared after the storming woman, dumbfounded by her audacity. How dare she speak to him that way? He was Michael Robinson, scourge of the business world - insults and defiance simply weren't tolerated.

Recovering his wits, he called out after her retreating form. "Hey! We're not finished here!"

The woman - Kiara, wasn't it? - whirled back to face him, cheeks flushed with indignation. "On the contrary, I'm quite through with arrogant bullies who think they can buy their way out of responsibility."

Mike felt his eye twitching at her barb. "I'm the one taking responsibility here, sweetheart - calling emergency services for your foolish actions. A 'thank you' would be proper."

"My actions?" Kiara looked heavenward as if begging the skies for patience. "I was minding my own business when you came tearing around that corner, whiskey on your breath and eyes blazing like a madman! Yet I'M the one to blame?"

Mike took an affronted step back. "How dare you insinuate - I'll have you know, I've been a restaurateur and pillar of this community for decades!"

"Oh, well pardon me for insulting such an upstanding citizen," Kiara rejoined acidly. She swung her arm in a mock grand gesture. "Thank you for gracing me with your high-handed arrogance and that lovely aroma of public inebriation."

By now Mike's face had turned an unflattering mottled red, his temper well and truly lashed. "You condescending little --"

He cut off as a small, pained whimper issued from the discarded dog toy. Kiara immediately sobered, crouching by the bundle of fraying rope on the roadside.

"Oh hush now, little one," she murmured soothingly, retrieving the pathetic creature. It was indeed a puppy, emaciated and mud-caked, blinking up at them through scruffy fur. "Did the mean loud man scare you? It's alright..."

Mike scowled as Kiara nuzzled the squirming mutt, his anger deflating slightly at the picture she made. Even caked in dirt from her fall, hair disheveled, she looked...well, disgustingly wholesome fussing over a mangey stray.

Blissfully unaware of Mike's scrutiny, Kiara was focused entirely on calming the whimpering pup. At length she straightened, cradling the pitiful beast to her chest and shooting Mike one final look dripping with icy disdain.

"So sorry to have waylaid you from your no-doubt very important revelries, Lord Arrogance. You may now resume vomiting into your silk top hat and monocle at your leisure."

With that parting barb, she pivoted on her heel and flounced off down the darkened road without a backward glance.

Mike could only stare after her, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions raging through him. Anger, befuddlement, lingering attraction for her fire and pluck - warring and churning into a massive tangle in his gut.

Who the hell was that woman?

Finally giving his head a shake, he turned and made his way stiffly back to his battered Ferrari. As he wrenched open the crumpled door, a small scrap of paper fluttered free and landed at his feet.

Curious, Mike scooped it up. It was a business card, simple and tasteful, emblazoned with the words: Davis Hotel.

Realization slammed into Mike, punching the breath from his lungs. Kiara...Davis? As in, THE Davis family, owners of that palatial luxury hotel empire?

No, it couldn't be...could it? He had nearly run down THE Kiara Davis, his prospective, well, bride?

Mike collapsed onto the leather seat, head spinning. If word got out about this encounter, his father would erupt like a volcano. Arranging that farce of a merger was complicated enough without traumatizing the bargaining chip.

As Mike started the damaged Ferrari's engine with hands that suddenly felt leaden, he resolved to keep this bizarre night to himself. His pride stung harshly enough without Robinson finding out.

Little did Mike realize, on that fateful night, his life had irreversibly collided with Kiara Davis's. And the crash course was only beginning.

Mike strode into his corner office the next morning, desecrated whiskey glass still in hand from the night before. The throbbing in his temples served as a bitter reminder of his reckless actions and bizarre encounter with...what was her name again? Kiara, wasn't it?

Shaking his head to dispel the fuzzy memory, he settled behind his desk and began reviewing contracts and financial reports. He was in the middle of scrutinizing a multi-million dollar acquisition when his assistant's voice buzzed through the intercom.

"Mr. Mike? Miss Beth is here for your 11 o'clock appointment."

Mike frowned briefly, then recognition dawned. "Ah yes, send her in."

Moments later, the sleek glass door opened to admit a striking woman in a form-fitting maroon sheath dress. Amira Beth swept in with feline grace, flashing Mike a slow, suggestive smile.

"Good morning, Mike. I must say, you look deliciously rumpled this morning."

Mike allowed a lazy grin to spread across his features as he appraised her figure. "Just the way you like me, I'd wager."

Amira laughed softly as she rounded the desk, bending to trail a fingernail along Mike's jaw. "Is that any way to greet a professional acquaintance in the workplace?"

"We both know you're anything but a professional acquaintance, Amira," Mike purred, pulling her into his lap in one smooth motion. "Now, why don't you show me a good morning?"

She responded by slanting her mouth over his in a heated kiss, eagerly reciprocating as his hands roamed over her curvaceous body. As arousal thrummed between them, Amira made short work of unbuckling Mike's belt...

Some time later, Mike lay spent on his office sofa, loosened tie askew. Amira stretched languidly beside him, idly stroking his sweat-dampened chest.

"We really should take this to a hotel one of these days," Mike remarked, only half-joking. "I'm paying that cleaning staff far too much in hazard wages."

Amira merely laughed in reply, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. 

The following morning the leakage of the sex tape filled the entire city and all over the social media as Robinson sits in his office contemplating on the next line of action. 

Robinson slammed his fist onto the ornately carved desk, face mottled with rage. "This is an outrage! How dare some worm attempt to sully my family's name with these salacious lies?"

His lawyer Marcus flinched at the outburst but pressed on grimly. "I'm afraid it's no lie, sir. The, er, footage's authenticity has been verified by our tech experts."

"Well then find whoever is responsible and make them suffer!" Robinson boomed, his voice shaking with barely contained fury.

A meek cough came from the doorway as one of Robinson's underlings sidled in, a burly man Janix. "Uh, pardon me Mr. Robinson. But I may have a lead on the scumbag behind this."

Robinson's eyes narrowed to slits as he jerked his head in acknowledgment. Marcus made himself scarce, recognizing the impending storm about to be unleashed.