I never expected the records vault to turn into a battlefield where every sharp word I throw at Grace Vail makes my skin burn hotter. She's the rival who wants my family's property, the one whose lean strength and cutting tongue have pushed me to the edge for too long.

We clash over documents and deadlines in this cramped space thick with old paper, but each graze of shoulders or brush of knees reveals the thin line between our hatred and the need neither of us will admit. I guard my heart because the last rejection still stings, and letting her claim me would destroy the last of my defenses.

When the folder slips from my grip and her gaze holds without wavering, she moves closer. The question is whether I'll let my enemy cross that final line or admit how badly I want her to.