"Flames of Power: A Forbidden Alliance"

Amelia Ceston was accustomed to Jason Bellucci's expectations. Working for Boston's most powerful CEO entailed late-night conversations, unrealistic deadlines, and bearing the rough edges of a guy who never exposed more than he wanted others to see.

This time, though, things were different.

Jason stood at her office doorway, his gray eyes dark with something she couldn't identify, and his customary assurance tinged with desperation. He stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind him, locking them in a hush thick with unsaid anxiety.

"I need your help," he said finally, his voice low and almost hesitant.

Amelia froze. Jason Bellucci didn't ask for assistance. He commanded, maneuvered, and strategized. He got whatever he wanted, and he didn't need anyone else to acquire it.

"What kind of help?" she said, her voice firm despite the uneasiness in her chest.

His lips twitched in an unfunny smile. "The kind that might ruin us both."

He told out his plan-a phony relationship to shock his millionaire ex and salvage a deal that was on the verge of collapse. It was risky, deceitful, and absolutely inappropriate. However, as Jason's words spun a web of promises and unstated risks, Amelia realized she had already been caught.

Because, beneath the cold control and impossible charisma, Jason Bellucci was concealing something-something with the potential to upend both their lives.

Amelia was unsure if she was heading into a game or a trap.

Amelia slumped back in her chair, her heart racing. "You think pretending to be your girlfriend is going to fix everything?"

Jason's jaw tightened, his hands resting on the edge of her desk as he hovered over her, a planned action that sent electricity through the air between them. "It is not only about repairing things. It's all about control. I need to send a message, and you're the only person I trust to play the part."

Trust. The word hung in the air, almost comical. Jason Bellucci didn't truly trust anyone. However, the intensity in his eyes was impossible to ignore, as if he were giving her a rare sight of the man behind the mask.

Amelia folded her arms, attempting to ignore the heat rising up her neck. "What happens if your ex decides to fight back?" When she draws me into whatever bizarre game you two are playing?"

Jason's smile was harsh and predatory. "She will not draw you into anything. I'll make certain of it.

But the flash of something darker-something dangerous-deceived him. He wasn't only concerned about his ex. There was more to it than he was letting on.

"I'll make it worthwhile," Jason promised softly. "Anything you want-money, connections, a promotion-you name it."

Amelia hesitated. Every instinct told her to say no and walk away before she became collateral damage in Jason's impending storm. But something about the way he looked at her-as if she were more than simply his assistant, as if she were the key to something he couldn't accomplish on his own-made her heart race.

She was playing with fire. She knew it. But as Jason extended his hand, waiting for her response, she found herself grabbing for it regardless.

"What the hell," she mumbled, slipping her hand into his. "Let's see how this plays out."

Jason's hold was tight, and his smirk mixed relief and triumph. "You won't regret it."

But as Amelia felt the weight of his stare, she couldn't shake the notion that she'd just made a bargain with the devil, and her sorrow was only the beginning.

The first public event was a gala, a glittering maze of Boston's elite, oozing with riches and judgment. Amelia felt the weight of all eyes on her as she entered the venue on Jason's arm. The sleek black dress he'd insisted on, the diamond bracelet he'd chosen for her, and the air of confidence she needed to fake-it all felt like a costume, a role she wasn't sure she could play.

Jason, on the other hand, seemed to fit right in. His elegant tuxedo suited him like armor, and he moved with deliberate and authoritative steps. Despite his apparent charm, his touch on the small of her back was solid and protective.

"You're doing fine," he muttered, his lips brushing against her ear as they moved through the crowd.

"Fine?" she replied, maintaining her smile. "I feel like I'm one wrong move away from being eaten alive."

Jason gave a quiet chuckle, almost amused. "Let them try." "I don't share what is mine."

The words sent shivers down her spine, and Amelia gave him a glance. But before she could say anything, a seductive voice intervened.

"Jason."

Amelia turned to face her. Sophia De Lancey. The billionaire ex. The kind of woman who didn't just walk into a room; she owned it. Sophia's keen green eyes swept over Amelia, lingering just long enough to sting, before she grinned with all teeth.

"And this must be... your new love?" Sophia inquired, her voice oozing with false tenderness.

Amelia opened her mouth, but Jason spoke first. "Amelia," he whispered calmly, his arm tightening around her waist. "And yes, she is."

The possessiveness in his words surprised her, but not as much as Sophia's expression-a mix of astonishment and something deeper.

"Interesting," Sophia replied, her smile growing. "I didn't expect you to move on so quickly. "Or so...boldly."

Amelia could feel Jason's anxiousness, despite his placid appearance. Whatever history these two had was not just messy, but also volatile.

"Bold moves are my specialty," Jason responded, his tone challenging.

Sophia's gaze shifted to Amelia, and her sneer became razor keen. "We'll see how long this one lasts."

As Sophia walked away, Jason sighed and tightened his jaw. Amelia tilted her head, attempting to interpret the storm behind his gaze.

"She's not just your ex," Amelia explained quietly.

Jason's gaze flickered to hers, revealing a rawness beneath his mask. "No. "She isn't."

Before she could press any farther, he seized her hand, his grip almost too tight. "Dance with me," he murmured, leading her to the dance floor.

"You're deflecting," she mumbled, but she didn't argue.

"I'm keeping you close," he clarified, his voice lowering. "Sophia plays dirty, and if she sees even a crack in this, she'll tear us apart."

Amelia sensed a difference in their relationship as they swayed to the music. His grip was firm but cautious, and his gaze searched hers, as if attempting to judge her resolve.

"Why me?" She inquired softly, her voice nearly lost in the swirl of violins.

Jason hesitated, his mask slipping for a brief time. "Because I knew you'd fight back."

Against him? Against Sophia? Against something deeper? She was unsure. However, as the music grew and the world around them

For better or worse, she was involved now.

Amelia understood it wasn't simply a game anymore. For better or worse, she was involved now.

Sophia DeLancey was not one to lose.

As Amelia watched her walk into the crowd, she couldn't help but feel that the woman had left a ticking time bomb in her wake. And she was not wrong.

The first hint came two days later, when a piece appeared in the Boston Ledger with the flashy headline, "Bellucci's New Flame: Fact or Fiasco?"

Amelia sat motionless in her office chair, scrolling through the accompanying photos-her on Jason's arm, smiling at something he'd said, his palm protectively resting against her back. The story was rife with speculation about their "relationship," casting doubt on its veracity and reviving rumors about Sophia's ongoing ties to Jason.

Jason burst into her office moments later, his countenance as gloomy as a rainstorm. "Sophia," he hissed, placing a printed copy of the story on her desk.

"You're sure it's her?" Amelia inquired, even though the answer was obvious.

"She owns half of the media outlets in this city," Jason said. "If this isn't her handiwork, I'll eat my own tie."

Amelia scowled and scrolled over the article again. "But why?" "What is her angle?"

Jason paced the room, running his fingers over his hair. "She's testing us to see if we'll crack under pressure. And if we do, she'll use it to malign me before the board."

The weight of his words rested on Amelia's chest. This wasn't simply about damaged egos or old flames -it was about power, control, and reputation.

"What do we do?" she murmured, her voice firm despite the fear that gripped her.

Jason paused his pacing, his stare fixed on hers with such intensity that she felt her stomach flip. "We're doubling down. Dinner tonight at the Copley Club. Public, high-profile, and undeniably united."

"Together," Amelia said, her voice dry. "You mean-"

He nodded. "Hand-holding, smiling, the works. "If Sophia wants a show, we'll give her one."

That evening, the cameras were everywhere as Jason took her hand and guided her into the expensive restaurant with practiced ease. He nailed the role of the attentive boyfriend, with his quiet murmurs and gentle touches almost convincing Amelia.

Almost.

But as they sat across from each other, Sophia's next move was rapid. A server handed a bottle of champagne to their table, along with this note:

"To a new beginning, dear."

- S

Jason's jaw clinched as he read the note, and his fingers tightened around it. Amelia leaned nearer, her speech barely audible. "She's watching us."

Jason surveyed the room, eventually focusing on a corner table where Sophia sat, her red dress standing out against the shadowy booth. She raised her glass in a faux toast, her smirk piercing through the air like a razor.

Jason said, "Smile," his voice low and commanding.

"What?"

"Smile," he repeated, his hand reaching across the table to cover hers. "We can't let her see us falter."

Amelia forced a smile, though her heart hammered in her chest. Sophia was playing a game she didn't understand, and the rules were shifting faster than she could keep up.

But as Jason's fingers tightened around hers, she realized one thing: if Sophia was going to come for them, she'd need more than champagne and headlines.

She'd have to break whatever fragile bond was forming between them first.