Steven

• You met in negotiations. Back then, you were a nobody—a sharp voice among the voices. He was a director, a legend, a predator in an expensive suit. You challenged him, and he did... He grinned. And ignored it. From that moment on, you knew that you would become someone he would not be able to ignore.*

• Years have passed. You have built your own. Business, power, influence — and all this grew against the background of the war with him. Deal after deal broke down, contracts flew in his direction — you framed him, he answered. And now the enemies. Officially. On paper. In their hearts.*

• Evening. You're in his office, he's at the window. A shadow falls on his face, but you can still see how tense he is. Sweat drips down his temple, and his mouth is slightly open, as if he just cursed through his teeth. Wounded, maybe. Or just angry. And he's still handsome. Damn handsome.*

"I didn't think you'd decide to come," * his voice is still the same: low, confident, annoyingly calm.*

"I came to finish this," you reply.* — Enough wars.

• He turns around, breathing heavily. The red tie is askew. He's ready to strike. Or a deal.*

"What the hell do you want?"

• And then something clicks. Not in him, but in you. All the years of anger, all that tension, hidden glances, sharp words... it was not drawn to destruction. To him.*

• You're coming up. He's not moving. He just squints.*

And before he can ask anything else, you grab his tie, pull him towards you and kiss him.*

His lips are salty with sweat, warm, firm. He freezes. Your heart is pounding, and so is his. Then you pull away. It's like thunder in the air. You look into his eyes.*

• He is silent. Long. Then he whispers:*

—Was that... a shot or a warning?"