Max
There was no reason the boardroom should feel this warm.
It was a sleek, glass-walled space in the heart of Sterling Tower—air-conditioned, sunlit, the sort of place designed for clean lines and cleaner numbers. The table was Scandinavian oak. The coffee was artisanal. The mood? Sterile.
And yet, Max felt like her skin was too tight.
Aurelia sat across from her, legs elegantly crossed, red lipstick back in place like a weapon holstered and loaded. She wore a dark green silk blouse, subtle gold jewelry, hair pinned with the same casual elegance that had once trailed across Max's bare stomach only thirty-six hours ago.
Max hadn't looked. Not directly. But her body had noticed anyway.
The flight back from Geneva had been thirteen hours of strategic avoidance—separate first-class cabins, carefully timed bathroom breaks, an unspoken agreement to maintain professional distance after three nights that had redefined everything between them. They'd parted at JFK with nothing but curt nods, as if they hadn't spent the previous seventy-two hours discovering each other in ways that went beyond corporate competition.
Now, back in New York, back in the boardroom, back to reality, Max was determined to reestablish boundaries. To prove that whatever had happened in Suite 927 was firmly contained there. To convince herself, more than anyone, that she was still Maxine Sterling, CEO and Ice Queen, untouched by the fire that was Aurelia Kaiser.
It wasn't working.
Vivien Hart—Kaiser's CFO—was presenting a quarterly sustainability proposal. Max should have been focused on projections, supply chain viability, co-investment options. Instead, she was acutely aware of Aurelia's perfume. The sound of her pen scratching notes. The way her fingers tapped softly on the tabletop when she was bored.
"Sterling Global's forecasted timeline for biodegradable textile partnerships is a full quarter slower than our model," Vivien said, gesturing to a graph that showed competing projections.
Max's eyes flicked to the document, recalibrating.
"Our pace ensures structural integrity and logistics," she said coolly.
Aurelia spoke before Vivien could respond. "Or maybe you're just afraid to move quickly in case the board gets nervous."
Max met her gaze sharply. "We don't panic for headlines, Ms. Kaiser. We build for longevity."
Aurelia leaned forward, voice low but unmistakably amused. "Longevity's good. Assuming your materials aren't obsolete by launch."
Max held her stare. "You're fishing for something."
"And you're dodging."
The others in the room were still. Listening. Watching.
The luxury sustainability consortium had brought together executives from both companies to discuss joint initiatives—a collaborative project to showcase the industry's commitment to environmental responsibility. It was a PR exercise as much as a genuine effort, but one with significant market implications.
Max handed the file across the table. Their fingers touched for half a second.
That was all it took.
Aurelia's pinkie grazed hers deliberately, a featherlight brush, and Max's spine stiffened like she'd been shocked.
She didn't react.
Outwardly.
But inside?
She was absolutely burning.
Three nights in Geneva had taught her exactly how Aurelia's hands felt. How they moved. How they could bring her to the edge of control and then push her beyond it. Those same hands now holding the sustainability report as if it were the only thing they'd ever touched.
"If we align our supplier audits," Max continued, voice betraying nothing of her inner turmoil, "we can consolidate compliance verification without compromising individual standards."
"Practical," Vivien noted, making a note. "Though it would require unprecedented information sharing between our companies."
"We're capable of professional collaboration," Max replied evenly.
Aurelia smiled, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "When it suits us."
The double meaning hung in the air, subtle enough that only Max caught it. She kept her expression neutral, but beneath the table, her fingers clenched around her pen.
This was going to be a very long meeting.
---
Aurelia
Max was unraveling—and doing a damn good job pretending she wasn't.
Aurelia watched the tension in her jaw, the way her eyes refused to drift toward her unless forced. The poker face was flawless, but her shoulders were too straight, too stiff. The air around her vibrated with effort.
Poor thing, Aurelia thought. She really thinks she can out-ice me after Geneva.
After three nights of discovering what lay beneath that perfectly composed exterior. After learning the exact sound Max made when she came apart. After seeing her with her guard down, vulnerable and honest in ways Aurelia suspected few people ever had.
She let her finger graze Max's as she took the document, just enough to stir the quiet storm under her suit. Just enough to remind her.
You kissed me. You touched me. You stayed.
And now you're pretending you didn't want it.
Aurelia turned back to the discussion, legs crossed, voice smooth. "What I'm suggesting is we coordinate rollout with storytelling. Our data shows public perception of transparency is as important as actual carbon footprint metrics."
"Sterling Global doesn't engage in performative metrics," Max said. Crisp. Dismissive.
Vivien arched a brow. "You saying Kaiser does?"
Max didn't answer.
Aurelia smiled. "It's okay, Max. Not everyone can master both ethics and aesthetics."
Max's eyes finally snapped to hers. "We're not in a press panel now. There's no need to perform."
"I never perform," Aurelia said, voice velvet. "Everything I do is intentional."
There was a pause.
The temperature in the room didn't change, but it felt hotter somehow. Like the words weren't just about strategy anymore. Like everyone present could feel the currents beneath.
The consortium executives exchanged glances, clearly sensing the tension but misinterpreting it as typical corporate rivalry. They had no way of knowing that Aurelia had memorized the taste of Max's skin, the weight of her body, the surprising softness of her when all her defenses were down.
The woman sitting across from her now—cool, collected, distant—was the armor Max wore. But Aurelia had seen what lay beneath it. Had held it in her hands. Had whispered to it in the dark.
And she wasn't about to let Max pretend otherwise.
The meeting wrapped with polite nods and vague promises to "align touchpoints." But as executives filed out, more than a few cast side glances between the two CEOs who hadn't looked at each other again.
Vivien stayed behind with Aurelia. Lani hovered by Max, trying to look like she wasn't mentally taking screenshots of every microexpression.
As Max gathered her tablet, Aurelia stepped closer—too close for corporate comfort.
"Your quarterly forecasts seem optimistic," Max said, a calm jab to cut through the tension.
Aurelia tilted her head. "I excel at exceeding expectations."
Their eyes locked.
Long enough for Lani to widen hers in silent panic. Long enough for Vivien to raise a single, knowing brow.
It was a moment charged with everything they weren't saying. Everything they couldn't say in this sterile boardroom with its clean lines and clearer expectations.
Max broke the gaze first.
Without another word, she turned and walked out.
Aurelia watched her go, noting the slight stiffness in her usual fluid stride. The slight quickness in her step, as if she couldn't escape fast enough.
Running away, Aurelia thought. Again.
It shouldn't have bothered her. This was exactly what she'd expected—Max retreating behind her professional walls, pretending nothing had changed, refusing to acknowledge the shift between them.
And yet, it stung more than Aurelia wanted to admit.
---
Vivien caught up with Aurelia as they stepped into the quieter corridor outside the conference room, heels clicking against polished floors. The scent of strong coffee and sharp tension still clung to Aurelia like perfume.
Vivien waited until they were out of earshot before saying, "You know you're playing with fire, right?"
Aurelia didn't miss a beat. "I am fire."
Vivien rolled her eyes. "That line's cuter before you get burned."
Aurelia glanced sideways, but didn't deny it. "She's pretending it didn't happen."
"She's pretending a lot," Vivien said dryly. "But I saw the way you two weren't looking at each other."
Aurelia didn't speak.
"And I felt it," Vivien continued. "The energy in that room could've fried the lighting system. Don't play dumb with me, Rel."
Aurelia finally stopped walking.
Vivien turned to face her.
"You slept with her."
Aurelia crossed her arms. "I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." Vivien lowered her voice. "You have lipstick smudges on your collarbone and you flinched when she passed you the file."
Aurelia looked away, jaw tightening. "It was one night."
Vivien arched a brow. "So was your engagement to Elena. And that lasted how long again?"
"That's low."
"It's true."
Aurelia exhaled hard, shoulders sinking for half a second before she caught herself.
The hallway was blessedly empty, the consortium attendees having dispersed to various breakout sessions and networking events. But the privacy only made Vivien's words more pointed, more difficult to deflect.
Vivien softened, just a little. "I'm not judging you, Aurelia. I get it. She's…" She waved a hand. "Sterling. Ice-queen beautiful. Sharp as hell. Definitely your type—if your type is emotional repression in thousand-dollar pantsuits."
That earned a flicker of a smile.
"But I also remember what happened with Elena," Vivien continued. "And I remember how long it took you to come back from that."
Aurelia's expression cooled instantly. "This is nothing like Elena."
"No? Because it looks a hell of a lot like you catching feelings for someone who won't give them back."
Aurelia turned her face away, trying to keep her voice light. "I'm not catching anything. Max and I have history. That's all. It bled over. We reset. That's what adults do."
Vivien gave her a long, hard look. "You don't reset from something like that. You bury it. You box it up. But it's still ticking."
Aurelia stayed quiet.
"And don't forget," Vivien said, more gently now, "Elena's still technically your fiancée. The PR team is working overtime to keep the yacht photos buried, but you're still planning a public statement about the breakup. You're cleaning up one mess while creating another."
Aurelia flinched, the reminder of her still-public engagement landing like a blow. Elena's recent indiscretions—caught by paparazzi with an Italian model on her father's yacht—had been a humiliating, if not unexpected, end to a relationship that had been more strategic than passionate from the start.
"You might be fearless in the boardroom, Rel," Vivien continued, "but your heart's not bulletproof. It never has been."
Aurelia swallowed, throat tight.
Vivien added, "Just... don't go to war for someone who can't even admit the battle happened."
Then she walked ahead toward the elevators, leaving Aurelia standing still in the echoing hallway, trying not to admit the truth in every word.
Because the truth was, Geneva had been more than just physical release. More than just the culmination of years of tension. It had been recognition. Connection. Moments of vulnerability that had revealed a Max Sterling few people ever saw—thoughtful, unexpectedly tender, capable of depths Aurelia had only glimpsed before.
And now they were back to this—professional distance, careful avoidance, the pretense that nothing had changed.
It shouldn't have hurt. Shouldn't have mattered. Aurelia had played this game before, with other beautiful, complicated women. Had enjoyed the chase, the conquest, the inevitable parting.
But Max was different. Had always been different. The one rival who challenged her. The one woman who saw through her carefully crafted persona to the ambition and insecurity beneath.
The one person whose walls were as high as her own.
Aurelia straightened her shoulders, shaking off the momentary vulnerability. This was business. Just business. And if her heart didn't quite believe that yet, she'd make it understand.
She walked toward the elevators, already formulating a strategy for the next meeting, the next encounter, the next opportunity to remind Max Sterling that some things couldn't be undone, no matter how hard she tried to forget them.