Grayson groaned as his alarm blared, his hand instinctively reaching out to silence it. As he stretched, he realized something was off—he already missed her warmth. The space beside him was empty, the sheets still slightly wrinkled from where she had been. The room smelled faintly of her—vanilla and something subtly floral—lingering in the air. The dim morning light filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting soft shadows across the sleek, modern décor of the hotel suite. The bedside table still held two empty glasses from last night's wine, but there was no other trace of her.
Frowning, he sat up and ran a hand over his face before standing. His first thought was the bathroom. He walked over, pushing the door open. Empty. His gaze then landed on the chair near the window where her dress had been draped the night before. Now, it was gone.
"Huh?" He muttered, running a hand through his hair. "I guess I'm not as good as I thought if I'm the one who slept in."
Walking back to the bed, he reached for his phone, intending to text her—only to notice three unread messages. One from Olivia, one from his mother, and one from Daniel. The others could wait. He tapped on the one he truly wanted.
At that moment, a knock sounded at the door. As expected. He didn't even look up as he walked over and opened it, still standing in nothing but his boxers and whatever dignity he could muster at this hour.
"Sir, the plane leaves in one hour, and Meo Hampton wants to speak with you about our merger," George announced as he stepped inside. "Then, when we arrive, we have two meetings back to back—one downtown Manhattan, a lunch briefing, and still a flight to catch to Austin to discuss the upcoming gala with Ms. Rhodes."
Grayson sighed heavily, his focus still on his phone. His smirk deepened as he read Olivia's message, but his eyebrow arched in intrigue.
"Change of plans, George."
George blinked. "I… don't… What? Sir, why, sir?" His face paled slightly, his lips pressing together as though already dreading the headache this was about to cause.
Grayson turned, standing tall, exuding the presence he carried into every boardroom. Strong. Unwavering. Determined.
"Since I was eight years old, everything I went for, I gained, earned, and achieved. I overcame challenges, even dealt with my conniving, underhanded, backstabbing, lying ex-wife. I don't lose, and when I do, I own up to it. But now, I have an adversary who is not only beautiful and charming, but she's tempting me in ways I've never been tempted before."
He took a step closer to George, his expression resolute. "I have been called out on a challenge, and I have no excuse but to put all my effort into pursuing it to the fullest." He turned his phone around, showing the screen to his assistant.
On it, Olivia's message glowed back at them:
Looks like I won again. I didn't tell you why I laughed. If you wanna know, gotta catch me—if you can. LOL.
"Do you see that, George? It's right there in blue and white." He exhaled with amusement. "I have to find her."
George's jaw slackened. His shoulders tensed, and the corners of his lips twitched in a way that spoke volumes—stress. "So… what are we doing, sir?"
"We're changing all our Zoom meetings. Any groups scheduled to meet in New York? Fly them here. Today. This hotel. Make it happen."
"And the Meo Hampton meeting, sir?"
"Fly them here in Chicago."
"And Ms. Rhodes?"
"No!" Grayson groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "Don't send that awful woman here. Ever."
George gulped, his face slightly pale. "Got it, sir."
"But I do want you to bring the Welch group here. I have a meeting with them today, and this will be the perfect venue."
"If they want the merger. Tell them they have until the end of the day. Call in all our favors."
George scribbled furiously in his notebook, nodding with a hint of panic.
George hesitated for a moment, a rare pause in his otherwise efficient nature. "Very well, sir. I'll make the calls."
Grayson tossed his keycard into George's hands. "Now, get out, order me some breakfast. We have a lot to do." He glanced back at his phone, a smirk returning to his lips. "And I have a woman to find."
By the time Grayson had showered, shaved, and thrown on a crisp white button-down and tailored slacks, his breakfast had arrived. He sat at the small dining table near the window, sipping his coffee while scanning through his emails. His mind, however, remained elsewhere—on Olivia. Where had she gone? What was she up to? And, most importantly, how fast could he find her?
His phone vibrated again, pulling him from his thoughts. Another text. This one from Daniel.
Daniel: You're really staying another day? That's not like you.
Grayson smirked, leaning back. Grayson: Thought I'd take a break. Enjoy the city a little longer.
Daniel's response was instant. Chicago? Really? You hate the cold.
Grayson: It's not that bad. Besides, I had some unexpected things come up.
Daniel sent a string of skeptical emojis. Right. 'Unexpected things.' You sure it's not a woman?
Grayson rolled his eyes. Grayson: Not everything is about women, Daniel.
Okay, sure. But speaking of women… Liv is still waiting on a date. First, you had to cancel, then she bailed. That's two strikes. One more, and I'll start calling it a breakup before the first date even happens.
Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew this was coming. Grayson: It's not a breakup if it never started.
Daniel: Then let's start it. Next weekend. Haley and I are hosting in Boston. You two can finally meet in a relaxed setting.
Grayson: Not happening. I'm booked until the end of the month.
Daniel's reply was immediate. Booked? Since when?
Grayson: Right now
Daniel: Suuuuuure.
Grayson ignored it. He had more important things to worry about.
Before setting his phone down, he typed out a quick message and sent it.
Grayson: I'm leaving for now, but I should be back in Chicago soon. When I am, I'll get the information out of you.
Moments later, his phone vibrated again. Olivia's reply was instant.
😂🏆😘
Just as he set his phone down, George walked back in, looking slightly more composed but still flustered. "Sir, I've made all the changes as requested. The New York meetings are being rescheduled here. Welch group confirmed arrival in two hours."
"Good." Grayson stood, grabbing his jacket. "Now, tell me—do we have an update on Olivia?"
George hesitated. "I asked the hotel to pull footage to see when she left, but there's nothing, sir. No data in the system."
Grayson's smirk faded slightly. Clever.
"Alright," he said, adjusting his cuffs. "Find out where she lives. If she's still in the city, I'll catch her after my meetings."
George nodded, though his face showed mild concern. "You think she'll expect that, sir?"
Grayson chuckled, a victorious glint in his eyes. "No. And that's exactly why I'm going to win."
She was different. Unlike anyone he'd met. And he wasn't going to let her slip away.
The elevator doors slid open, and they stepped into the bustling hotel lobby. A few guests turned their heads as Grayson passed—his presence commanded attention even in a room full of strangers. As he made his way toward the conference room for his first meeting, his phone vibrated again.
A message from Daniel.
Fine. No Boston. But Liv's not waiting forever. You keep dodging, and she's going to assume you're not interested. I'm running out of excuses for you, man.
Grayson exhaled sharply, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He didn't have time for this. Liv wasn't his concern—Olivia was.
Grayson strode toward the hotel lobby with effortless confidence, his mind already working through the steps he needed to take. He had two meetings to get through before he could go looking for Olivia, but that didn't mean he couldn't make progress in the meantime.
"George," he said as they stepped into the elevator. "Have someone check the hotel's car service records. If she didn't book one through us, I want to know if she called for a ride from an outside service."
George, still tapping rapidly on his tablet, nodded. "Already on it, sir. I also checked with the front desk, but no one remembers seeing her leave. It's almost like she disappeared."
Grayson smirked. "Not for long."
The conference room buzzed with energy as the Welch group settled in. Grayson powered through introductions and pleasantries, his mind ticking like clockwork, dividing itself between negotiations and the enigma that was Olivia. The minutes dragged and sped simultaneously, a blur of deal points and strategic maneuvers. Grayson sat at the head of the polished boardroom table, listening to the final points of the discussion when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He glanced down, seeing Olivia's name flash across the screen. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
He pushed his chair back, standing smoothly. "I have to step out for a quick second—emergency call from HQ." His voice was casual, but the look in his eye said otherwise.
As soon as he was out in the hallway, he answered. "Olivia."
"How's it going?" she asked, her voice light and teasing.
"Quick," he replied, stepping toward the window overlooking the city skyline. "Wrapping up the trip home. Made a quick merger with the Hampton Group."
She giggled. "Yeah, well, there will be a great surprise at the Clock Tower in three weeks."
His brow furrowed. "Huh? What does that mean?"
"You, my friend, are full of riddles," he said, shaking his head.
She hummed playfully. "Well, I guess you'll have to keep up with your hunt for me, won't you? Your assistant is still in Chicago, right?"
"Olivia—"
"Gotta go!" she cut him off cheerfully.
Click.
Grayson stared at his phone, exhaling a sharp breath before rubbing a hand over his jaw.
"Full of riddles," he muttered.
Then, with a shake of his head, he turned back toward the boardroom.
By noon, he was deep into negotiations. The boardroom buzzed with anticipation as power suits lined both sides of the table. Grayson was at his best, his mind partially focused on the meeting ahead but mostly occupied with thoughts of Olivia. He couldn't shake the smirk off his face. The way she ended the call so abruptly, the teasing in her voice—she was enjoying this game. But she underestimated just how much he liked winning.
As the meeting commenced, he kept his phone face down on the table, resisting the urge to check it. The moment it vibrated against the smooth mahogany surface, his fingers twitched. George, sitting a few seats away, gave him a knowing look.
Grayson ignored him and picked up the device, glancing at the screen under the guise of adjusting his cufflinks.
A message.
From Olivia.
I hope you're not too distracted in your meeting. I'd hate to be the reason Mr. Steel isn't at the top of his game today. 😉
He exhaled through his nose, amusement flickering in his eyes. She was pushing him.
He typed back quickly, keeping it simple. Nice try. You don't distract me.
Her response came almost immediately. Oh, I think I do. You're just too stubborn to admit it.
His lips twitched, but before he could type a response, someone cleared their throat.
He looked up to find the room staring at him expectantly.
Right. He was in a meeting.
Straightening in his seat, he set his phone aside and refocused on the discussion, though a part of his mind was already strategizing his next move.
By the end of the meeting, Grayson had sealed the merger. He shook hands, offered tight smiles, and made promises of future collaborations—all standard fare for him but somehow unsatisfying today.
George hovered nearby as Welch's team filed out.
Grayson checked his watch as he stepped into the sleek black car waiting outside the hotel. "George, any updates on her address?"
Grayson stepped into the sleek black car waiting outside the hotel, buttoning his jacket as he slid into the seat. The moment the door shut, he turned to George.
"Tell me you have something."
George sighed, scrolling through his tablet. "Still nothing definitive on her home address. I've got someone running checks, but she's careful about what she puts out there. She's got a limited digital footprint."
Grayson smirked. That only made the chase more interesting.
"What about the cab she took?"
George tapped on his screen. "Tracked it as far as the North Side. After that, nothing. No new credit card transactions, no hotel check-ins under her name."
Grayson's jaw flexed. Smart. But not smart enough.
"She didn't just disappear into thin air," he muttered. "She's somewhere."
George hesitated before speaking again. "Sir, I can keep digging, but at what point do you want to—"
Grayson cut him off. "I don't."
George pressed his lips together, nodding.
Grayson turned his attention to his phone and typed another message.
Grayson: You can't hide forever. I always catch what I go after. g
A few minutes passed. Then his phone vibrated.
Olivia: That's cute. But you're assuming I'm running. Maybe I'm just leading you exactly where I want you to go.
Grayson huffed out a quiet laugh. She was enjoying this far too much.
Another buzz. Daniel again.
I talked to Haley. She thinks the Boston weekend is a great idea. Says Liv's looking forward to it. So you're coming, right?
Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose.
Like I said, I'm booked.
Daniel's reply was immediate. Uh-huh. Funny how that happened the second I brought up Liv. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were avoiding her.
Grayson stared at the message for a long second before responding. Drop it, Daniel.
Daniel's next text was nothing but a laughing emoji.
Shaking his head, Grayson set his phone down. He didn't have time for Daniel's games—he was too busy playing one of his own.
He leaned back in his seat, watching the city rush past the tinted windows. Olivia thought she was leading him.
She had no idea.
Turning to George, he said, "Double down. I want every lead possible."
George exhaled but nodded. "Understood, sir."
Daniel: You know, you're acting real suspicious. First, you cancel on Liv, now you're 'suddenly' too busy for the whole month? Should I be worried?
Grayson sighed and responded. Relax. Just business.
Daniel wasn't convinced. Business? You've never let business get in the way of a woman before. You sure you're not running from this date?
Grayson rolled his eyes. Not running. Just have priorities.
Daniel: Uh-huh. And those priorities don't happen to be a woman, do they?
Grayson smirked but didn't reply. He had better things to do than let Daniel dig further.
George cleared his throat, drawing his attention. "Sir, I have something."
Grayson glanced up. "Go on."
"She left in a cab, but there's a gap in surveillance footage. The last camera caught her being dropped off in the North Side, but from there—nothing."
Grayson frowned. "No credit card charge?"
"None tied to her name," George confirmed. "But if I had to guess, she paid in cash."
Grayson exhaled through his nose. Smart. Very smart. But not smart enough.
"Then we find her another way," he said smoothly. "Start digging into social connections. Friends, work. See if she has an apartment here or if she was just visiting."
George hesitated. "You really want to go that far, sir?"
Grayson shot him a knowing look. "You already know the answer to that."
George exhaled and continued typing. "Understood."
The car slowed as they approached his first meeting location. He checked his phone one more time before stepping out.
Another message.
From Olivia.
Still looking for me? Cute. Let me give you a hint—you're not even close.
Grayson let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.
With the clock ticking down to his next meeting, he hurried back to the hotel, making his way through the bustling lobby and down the polished corridors to the conference room. The air was filled with the faint scent of coffee and the murmur of distant conversations. He slipped inside, ready to dive into his second meeting of the day.
After hours of meetings and negotiations, Grayson finally had a moment to breathe. As he stepped into his hotel room, George followed behind, still balancing his tablet in one hand and a coffee in the other.
"Any updates?" Grayson asked, rolling his sleeves up and loosening his tie.
George sighed. "We confirmed she lives here in Chicago, but the exact address is still proving difficult to pinpoint."
Grayson sat on the edge of his desk, crossing his arms. "So, what you're saying is, you still don't have what I asked for."
George hesitated. "I—sir, she's good at keeping things private."
Grayson arched a brow. "And I'm good at getting what I want."
George exhaled heavily. "Understood. I'll push harder."
Grayson nodded, checking his phone once again. No new messages from Olivia. She was probably enjoying this too much, letting him stew, waiting for him to make the next move.
Fine.
He typed out another message. Enjoying your victory lap?
It took a moment, but eventually, she responded. Olivia:Of course. It's not every day I beat Grayson Steel at his own game.
His jaw ticked slightly. Grayson: You haven't won yet.
Her reply came in the form of a single emoji: a winking face.
Grayson chuckled to himself, shaking his head.
"Sir," George spoke up hesitantly, watching the expression on his face. "Should I be concerned about this level of amusement?"
Grayson smirked, standing and grabbing his suit jacket. "No, George. But Olivia should be."
"Sir, I've got intel," he said.
Grayson's attention snapped to full alertness.
"Olivia's last credit card charge was in the hotel bistro twenty minutes ago."
Grayson's eyes gleamed with renewed determination.
"Send me the address," he said, striding out the door. Down the elevator, he cut through the lobby's bustling crowd and pushed out into the brisk Chicago wind. The city pulsed around him—taxis blaring, people rushing, skyscrapers towering—but his focus was singular.
He wasn't just chasing her now. He was closing in.
He headed down Michigan Avenue, scanning every storefront. His pulse quickened with each step, fueled by a mix of anticipation and adrenaline. The bistro came into view, a sleek place with floor-to-ceiling windows. Grayson paused outside, his breath visible in the chill air. He could see inside—tables filled with brunch-goers, waitstaff weaving between them. But no sign of Olivia.
He stepped in anyway, warmth enveloping him as he approached the hostess stand. "Was there a woman here, about this tall?" He gestured mid-chest.
The hostess, a young woman with a sleek ponytail and clipboard, raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to be more specific. We've had a lot of women here today."
"Dark hair. Blue coat," Grayson added, his voice edging with impatience.
The hostess blinked in surprise. "Uh, yeah. Long dark hair, right? She left like, ten minutes ago."
Grayson's eyes narrowed with determination. "Did she say where she was going?"
"I think she mentioned hitting the shops," the hostess replied with a shrug.
"Thanks," Grayson said, spinning on his heel. He was back out on the street in seconds, eyes darting over the sea of pedestrians.
He moved quickly, passing boutiques and department stores, checking every corner and side street. He could almost hear Olivia's laughter in the gusts of wind that tousled his hair. The thrill of the chase pushed him faster.
Usually planned and precise to a fault, Grayson found himself exhilarated by the unpredictability. She was turning everything he knew upside down—and he liked it.
Minutes stretched as he scanned faces in the crowd. Then—there! A flash of familiar Chestnut hair disappeared into a store ahead. His heart leaped as he picked
up the pace, slipping through clusters of people.
Grayson reached the storefront, nearly colliding with a mannequin in the window display. He looked around the bustling interior, eyes locking onto the blue coat. Olivia. She was browsing a rack of scarves, utterly unaware of his presence.
He paused inside, catching his breath, eyes scanning the rows of clothes and accessories.
Then he saw her.
He was closing in.
His long strides carried him down Michigan Avenue, eyes flicking over the faces in the crowd, scanning for the familiar dark hair and sharp gaze that had been haunting his thoughts. The anticipation hummed beneath his skin, the chase exhilarating, his heartbeat syncing with the rhythmic pulse of the city around him.
Finally, he spotted a woman in a blue coat. His pace quickened, his confidence unwavering. But as he reached for her arm and turned her toward him, his heart dropped.
It wasn't Olivia.
The woman had a passing resemblance—the same chestnut hair, similar height—but as she blinked at him in confusion, reality set in. A flicker of surprise crossed her face, then mild annoyance as she tugged her arm free. "Excuse me?" she said, her voice nothing like Olivia's.
Grayson immediately released her, stepping back, his pulse still racing. "Sorry. Mistaken identity."
She gave him a wary look before walking away, shaking her head. He let out a slow breath, frustration mounting as he swept his gaze across the street once more. Olivia had played him. Again.
He lingered longer than he should have, checking each passerby, even stepping into the nearby boutique to see if she had slipped inside. The hum of conversation, the rustle of shopping bags, the scent of perfume in the air—none of it led him to Olivia.
She was gone.
His jaw tightened as frustration crept in. Olivia had outmaneuvered him again.
A sudden burst of hurried footsteps approached, and before Grayson could turn, George nearly skidded to a stop beside him, slightly out of breath. He scanned the store with sharp eyes, his chest rising and falling from the exertion of catching up. "Sir—did you find her?" he asked, his voice edged with urgency.
Grayson shook his head, exhaling in frustration. "No. I thought I did. But it wasn't her."
George turned, scanning the boutique and then the sidewalk outside, as if Olivia might still be lingering just beyond their sight. "She's good," he muttered. "Too good."
Grayson ran a hand down his face, his patience wearing thin. "Yeah, she is."
George hesitated, then straightened his jacket. "Sir, you have a meeting in thirty minutes."
Grayson clenched his fist, exhaling sharply. He wanted to keep looking, but business demanded his attention.
"Fine," he muttered. "Book me a table at one of the restaurants near the hotel. We'll head there now."
As he turned back toward the main street, his mind remained fixed on Olivia. She had won this round.
But he wasn't done playing.
As Grayson stepped back onto the bustling Chicago streets, his mind remained sharp, calculating his next move. The crisp air stung his face, but he barely noticed. His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. Right now, Olivia was all that mattered.
George, still keeping pace beside him, cleared his throat. "Sir, should I keep looking into her location?"
Grayson nodded, his jaw tightening. "Yes. But be subtle. No more dead ends. She's smart—too smart. We need a different approach."
George nodded, already typing away on his tablet. "I'll cross-reference the places she's been frequenting. See if there's a pattern."
Grayson smirked. "Good. If she thinks she's unpredictable, let's prove her wrong."
They approached the sleek black car waiting at the curb. George opened the door, but before getting in, Grayson hesitated. His instincts told him she was still nearby. Watching. Testing him. He cast one last glance around the crowded streets, eyes scanning for a flash of chestnut hair, a familiar smirk.
Nothing.
Clenching his jaw, he slid into the back seat. As the driver pulled away from the curb, he pulled out his phone. A single unread message stared back at him.
Just for clarification. You are trying to find me, right? 😉 - Olivia
Grayson let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Oh, Olivia," he murmured to himself. "You have no idea what you've started."
George glanced at him from the front seat, eyebrow raised. "Sir?"
Grayson tucked his phone away and straightened his jacket. "Get me to that restaurant. And George?"
"Yes, sir?"
Grayson's smirk returned, the thrill of the game reigniting. "Make sure Olivia knows—I'm not giving up.
As the car weaved through the Chicago streets, Grayson's fingers hovered over his phone screen. He could answer her text immediately, call her bluff, but where was the fun in that? Instead, he let a smirk play at his lips and slid the phone back into his pocket.
George cleared his throat, glancing at him through the rearview mirror. "Sir, if I may… she's baiting you."
Grayson leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Of course she is. And I'm letting her."
George's brows knit together in concern. "And if she slips away again?"
Grayson's smirk deepened. "She won't."
The car pulled up to the restaurant entrance, a sleek, dimly lit spot known for its discretion. As Grayson stepped out, the doorman greeted him by name and opened the door with practiced ease. Inside, the hum of quiet conversation and the clink of silverware against porcelain filled the space.
"Your table is ready, Mr. Steel," the host said, leading him to a secluded booth near the back.
Grayson took his seat, glancing at the empty chair across from him. He wasn't expecting Olivia to show up—but if she did, she'd find him waiting.
He lifted his phone, finally responding.
That depends. Are you trying to stay hidden, or do you want to be found?-Grayson
He set the phone down and flagged the waiter, ordering a bourbon neat. As he took the first slow sip, his phone vibrated again. The message was simple.
I guess we'll find out.-Olivia
Grayson exhaled, shaking his head. She was playing him, but he wasn't out of moves yet.
He motioned for George, who was seated a few tables away, watching for any updates. "Tell me, George. If you were Olivia, where would you go next?"
George hesitated before replying. "Somewhere unexpected. Somewhere that puts her ahead of you."
Grayson tapped his fingers against the glass, considering. "Then we stop following the trail she's leaving and start anticipating the one she doesn't want us to see."
He pulled out his phone again, a new idea forming in his mind. It was time to change the game.
Then it hit him.
The bar.
The place where they first met. Damnit. He had been so focused on chasing her through the city that he hadn't thought of it until now. If Olivia wanted to stay ahead of him, she wouldn't just be running—she'd be circling back to familiar ground, a place she knew he wouldn't consider right away.
And now that he had, he knew she'd be there. But first, he had to get through this dinner meeting.
His clients walked in, their presence pulling him back to the moment. As he stood to greet them, he pulled out his phone and typed a quick message.
I know where you are, you little minx. I'll see you in a few.
Then, slipping his phone back into his pocket, he turned to his clients with a smooth, confident smile. "Gentlemen, let's get started."
As he extended his hand in greeting, the restaurant's low ambient lighting reflected off the polished mahogany table, casting a warm glow over the intimate setting. Soft jazz played in the background, blending seamlessly with the quiet murmur of high-profile business dinners happening around them. The scent of aged whiskey and seared steak filled the air, a reminder that this was a place meant for people who made deals over luxury and status.
His clients—two seasoned executives from a firm he was negotiating with—were the kind of men who had seen it all. One, a broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair named Wallace, exuded confidence, his handshake firm and deliberate. The other, a leaner man named Donnelly, had a calculating glint in his eye, the kind that suggested he trusted no one unless given a reason.
Grayson took his seat, effortlessly sliding into business mode, but his mind still hummed with the realization of Olivia's location. The thrill of knowing he was finally one step ahead of her sent a rush through him, a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. He could almost picture her at that bar—sitting in one of those leather-backed stools, a playful smirk on her lips, sipping on whatever drink she had chosen to amuse herself with that night. Was she expecting him? Or did she think he was still chasing shadows?
Damn, she was good.
Wallace leaned back, studying Grayson. "You seem preoccupied, Steel. I hope our deal still holds your attention."
Grayson smirked, effortlessly shifting gears. "Always. But let's cut to the chase, gentlemen. Time is money, and I intend to make the most of both."
He may have had a game to finish with Olivia, but first—he had a deal to close.""
As the dinner meeting unfolded, Grayson remained composed, engaging in conversation, nodding at the right moments, and even making a few sharp counterpoints. But underneath the polished exterior, his mind ticked like a clock counting down to when he could leave
He took a sip of his bourbon, the smooth burn grounding him for a brief moment. Wallace was in the middle of discussing projected numbers, but Grayson barely processed the words. His focus drifted to his phone, sitting face down on the table. He hadn't received another message from Olivia. That only made him more certain—she was waiting for him.
Damn her.
"Mr. Steel," Donnelly said, his voice pulling Grayson back into the moment. "You seem rather eager to get through this deal. Something more pressing on your schedule?"
Grayson smirked, leaning back in his chair, effortlessly exuding control. "Just efficient. You want results, and so do I. No reason to waste each other's time."
Wallace chuckled, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "Straight to the point. I like that."
The meeting continued, details ironed out, agreements exchanged, but the moment Grayson deemed it officially wrapped, he signaled for the check. No drawn-out pleasantries. No unnecessary delay.
As soon as he stepped out of the restaurant, the night air hit him, crisp and sharp. The city hummed with life around him—honking taxis, distant laughter from a rooftop bar, the rhythm of Chicago's energy pulsing beneath his feet.
George was already waiting by the car. "I assume we're heading to the bar?" he asked knowingly.
Grayson adjusted his cuffs, his smirk returning. "Of course."
As they slid into the car, he pulled out his phone, typing one final message before heading into the inevitable showdown.
Grayson: Stay put. I'm on my way.
This time, he wouldn't be chasing her. He was walking straight to her doorstep.
"To Timothy O'Toole's Pub," he instructed, settling back against the seat. The game was about to change.
The car wove through the crowded Chicago streets, the city alive with its usual nighttime energy. The glow of streetlights reflected off rain-slick pavement, and the distant honking of impatient drivers provided a steady backdrop to his thoughts. When the pub came into view, Grayson felt a surge of certainty. He knew she would be here.
But as he stepped inside, the scene was nothing like he expected.
The bar was packed wall to wall with people, the volume of laughter and conversation nearly deafening. A sports game played on multiple flat-screen TVs mounted behind the bar, drawing clusters of rowdy fans cheering and groaning with every play. The air was thick with the scent of beer, fried food, and the faint, lingering trace of old whiskey soaked into the wooden floors.
Grayson moved through the crowd, his gaze sharp, scanning every corner. He walked the length of the bar, checking the booths, even glancing toward the dimly lit backroom where smaller groups gathered over pool tables. Nothing.
He stepped onto the patio, where a few smaller tables were scattered under hanging lights, the chill of the night air making it a quieter escape from the chaos inside. But Olivia wasn't here either.
His jaw tensed.
He went back inside, his eyes sweeping the room again. His certainty wavered just slightly. Had he miscalculated? Had she anticipated his move and left before he arrived?
Damn it.
Just as frustration started creeping in, George rushed in through the entrance, breath slightly uneven. He immediately began scanning the space as well, then turned to Grayson.
"Sir—did you find her?" George asked, his tone edged with urgency.
Grayson shook his head, exhaling sharply. "No. I thought I did. But she's not here."
George glanced around once more, frowning. "Are you sure?"
Grayson clenched his fists, his jaw working. "If she was, I'd have found her."
George hesitated before speaking. "Sir… it's possible she's already onto you. That she knew you'd come here."
Grayson exhaled slowly, his frustration giving way to something else—respect. She had outmaneuvered him again.
But not for long.
His phone buzzed.
Olivia: Nice try, but I never said I'd make it easy for you.
His grip tightened around the phone before he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You have no idea how much fun I'm having with this, Olivia."
George cleared his throat. "Sir, what now? Do we keep looking?"
Grayson inhaled deeply, centering himself. As much as he wanted to keep searching, he needed to regroup. He had been chasing her all day, and now it was time to reassess. He had given her the lead long enough.
"Fine," he muttered. "No. No more chasing tonight. I'm heading back to the hotel. I need to pack—I'm flying back to New York in the morning."
As he turned toward the exit, his mind remained locked on Olivia. She had slipped through his fingers this time, but the game wasn't over. If anything, it was only just beginning.
She had won this round.
The ride back to the hotel was quiet, save for the faint hum of the tires on the wet pavement and the occasional honk from impatient drivers. Grayson stared out the window, the neon glow of Chicago's nightlife flashing past. He should've been frustrated. Should've been irritated that she had slipped through his fingers yet again.
But instead, he smirked.
She was playing the game well—damn well. But the thing about games? They only ended when one player conceded. And Grayson Steel never conceded.
George glanced at him from the front seat. "Shall I arrange for an earlier flight, sir?"
Grayson shook his head. "No. Tomorrow morning is fine."
George hesitated before nodding. He had worked for Grayson long enough to recognize that look—the one that meant his boss wasn't done yet.
The car pulled up to the entrance of the hotel, the valet rushing forward to open Grayson's door. He stepped out, adjusting his cufflinks as he strode through the lobby, his mind already working through next steps. He'd pack, catch a few hours of sleep, and in the morning, he'd be gone.
For now.
As he stepped into the elevator, his phone vibrated again. Another message.
Olivia: Going home so soon? I expected a little more fight from you.
Grayson exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he typed back.
Grayson: Oh, Olivia. You have no idea what you've just started.
He slid the phone back into his pocket just as the elevator doors slid open.
Tonight, she thought she had won.
Tomorrow, she'd realize she never stood a chance.
The drive back to the hotel was quiet, the city lights flashing past as Grayson leaned against the car door, deep in thought. He had underestimated her again. That both frustrated and intrigued him. Olivia was proving to be even more unpredictable than he had anticipated, and for a man who always stayed two steps ahead, it was an exhilarating challenge.
As the car pulled up to the hotel, he stepped out, nodding at the valet before making his way through the grand lobby. He moved with precision, his thoughts already shifting to the next step. He would pack, catch a few hours of sleep, and tomorrow, he'd be gone. But as much as he told himself that, something about leaving Chicago without finding her didn't sit right.
He stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the 100th floor. The soft hum of the machinery filled the space as he leaned against the back wall, eyes locked on his own reflection in the polished doors. His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it. He'd played her game long enough for one night.
The elevator slowed, the ding breaking the silence as the doors slid open.
And then—
There she was.
Olivia stood in the hallway, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall as if she had all the time in the world. Her chestnut hair framed her face in soft waves, and her lips curved into something between amusement and challenge.
"Took you long enough," she said.