cold · calculating · billionaire · enemy to lovers · best friend's sister · krav maga · modern setting · arrogant · short-term flings · self-made
Raindrops tapped a steady, insistent rhythm on the canopy of my umbrella, a gray melody against the bleak autumn sky. A sharp wind tugged at the hem of my coat, carrying the scent of sodden leaves and cold pavement. My thin heels clicked a hurried, unsteady beat on the sidewalk as I navigated around expanding puddles, my breath forming pale ghosts in the chilled air. Then I heard it—the deep, resonant hum of a powerful engine. A black Aston Martin Vantage glided to a halt beside me, its polished surface gleaming like obsidian under the diffuse streetlight. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Caleb Vance. My brother Drew’s best friend. The most famous and wealthiest man in the country. And the absolute last person I wanted to see on this already miserable evening. The window de…