Sweet Sabotage

Seline's POV

“I hope you’re miserable for the rest of your single life,” Knox Riker said, his voice low and mocking.

“Fuck you, Riker,” I shot back without missing a beat, and a slow, arrogant smirk tugged at his lips. “Right back at you, wife.” he mocked.

I leaned forward across the sleek table; my voice was smooth, cold, and dripping with venom. “If I hadn’t divorced you today, I would have fucking murdered you tonight.” I said with a hiss, and the entire conference room went silent. All the lawyers, assistants, and even the notaries froze like they were scared to even breathe.

Knox was sitting across from me like he owned the damn building, which, technically, he did, but I didn't really give a shit. His black suit was stretched perfectly over his broad shoulders, his dark hair perfectly styled, and those slate-blue eyes watching me with pure, calculated disdain. He didn’t look like a man who had just ended his marriage. He looked like a predator who had finally gotten bored of his latest toy.

“Finally,” he said, his deep voice laced with satisfaction, “I got rid of you.” His words should have felt like victory. Instead, they slid off me like cheap oil.

I smiled sweetly. “Same to you, Knox Riker.”

I grabbed my handbag and stood from my chair; I didn't spare him a second glance. My heels clicked sharply against the marble as I headed for the exit, but of course, the circus wasn’t over. The moment I walked into the private lobby, she was waiting. Vivienne Moreau. She was standing there in a cream designer coat, her blonde hair cascading in perfect waves, looking like she’d been waiting eighteen months for this exact moment. The second she saw me, her lips curled into a vicious, triumphant smile.

Before she could utter a single word, the heavy doors behind me opened again, and Knox came out. He walked straight past me, making sure our eyes locked, then wrapped a possessive arm around Vivienne’s waist and yanked her against his chest. His fingers dug into her hip hard enough that she gasped. He was putting on a show. For me. Vivienne melted into him like she belonged there, flashing me a smug, victorious look over his shoulder.

I stopped and my gaze dropped slowly to his hand on her waist, then climbed back up to his face. For a second, the air between us crackled with pure hatred… and something darker. I let out a soft, amused laugh. “Sure,” I said, my voice dripping with boredom. “You can have my leftovers.”

Vivienne’s smile shattered, and Knox’s jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle ticking in his cheek. His blue eyes burned with barely contained rage as he glared at me like he wanted to wrap his hands around my throat.

I didn’t wait for his comeback or here; I turned on my heel, tossed a lazy wave over my shoulder, and walked away without looking back. Those two could have each other, and Knox Rker and I would go back to the way things were. Later that night, I was sitting in my penthouse with a glass of wine. My mind drifted back to where it all started.

Four Years Ago

Past

I was sitting in my corner office at Whitmore Media, thirty floors above the city, when Ashely stormed in without knocking and slapped a folder onto my glass desk. “We have a problem," he said through gritted teeth.

I raised an eyebrow. “Who’s stupid enough to fuck with us now?”

“Knox Riker,” she said, spitting the name like poison. “He just outbid us by twenty percent on the global streaming server contract. Bought the entire company overnight.”

I leaned back in my chair, a dangerous smile forming on my lips. So the infamous Knox Riker was moving into my territory. Everyone knew who he was. Old money, a defense contractor turned tech god, and a notorious womanizer. Women dropped to their knees for him, and men feared him. Too bad for him… I wasn’t most women.

That same night, I walked into the Elite Gala in a blood-red dress that turned heads for all the right reasons. I spotted him immediately; he was standing near the VIP lounge, surrounded by models hanging onto his every word. He looked exactly like the devil in a tailored suit. When our eyes met across the room, something shifted. He dismissed the women around him and walked toward me with two glasses of champagne, wearing that signature arrogant smirk.

“Seline Whitmore,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. “I hear I took something that belonged to you. Don’t worry… I take very good care of what’s mine.”

I didn’t take the glass. Instead, I stepped closer until only he could hear me. “Save the cheap lines for the desperate girls by the bar,” I whispered. “You stole my contract; that was cute, but by morning, the whole world is going to know about your little drone malfunction in Dubai.”

His smirk froze. I looked him dead in the eyes, raised my middle finger between us, and smiled. “Enjoy your stock drop, Riker.” Then I turned and walked away, leaving the most feared man in the room standing there stunned. Neither of us knew it at that moment, but that was the beginning of four years of absolute war.

The morning after the gala, I was already winning. I was at the head of the long conference table in Whitmore Media’s war room, with my legs crossed, sipping my espresso while my team buzzed around me like excited bees.

Ashely slapped the tablet down in front of me with a victorious grin. “Riker Tech’s stock dropped 9.4% before the market even opened. The drone malfunction story is everywhere. They’re calling it "The Dubai Disaster," she said with a laugh. I smiled slowly, tapping my perfectly manicured nail against the cup. “Good. Let him choke on it.”

Eli, my PR genius, leaned back in his chair looking far too pleased with himself. “I made sure it trended on every platform we control. Even added some anonymous insider quotes about ‘questionable safety protocols.’ Very tasteful," he said, and everyone in the room laughed, but I wasn’t laughing though. I was calculating.

Knox Riker had made a mistake when he stole that server contract from me. He thought I was just another pretty heiress playing CEO. He was about to learn that Whitmore blood ran ice cold. My phone vibrated on the table. It was an unknown number, but I answered it anyway.

A deep, furious voice came through the line; his voice was low and dangerous. “You’ve got some fucking nerve, Whitmore," he ground out.

I leaned back in my chair, a thrill running down my spine at the pure rage in his tone. “Ahh Mr. Riker,” I purred. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“You leaked classified information about my company.” His voice was barely controlled. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“I warned you,” I said sweetly. “You stole from me; I stole back. That’s how this works in my world.”