Chapter 95

Three hours later, Rose gazed out the window of a private dining room in Montreal's most exclusive restaurant. Snowfell gently outside, illuminated by street lamps and café lights. Inside, candles flickered on their table, casting warm shadows across fine linens and crystal.

"You seem surprised to be enjoying yourself," Herod observed, watching her over the rim of his wine glass.

Rose turned from the window. "I am, a little. I haven't thought about anything but revenge for so long. It feels strange to just... exist."

"Vengeance is consuming," Herod agreed. "It leaves little room for ordinary pleasures."

"Is that why you collect books? To remember there's life beyond revenge?"

He considered this. "Perhaps. Though I began collecting long before Victoria Kane entered my life."

Rose studied him in the candlelight. Without the hard edges of their planning sessions, Herod Preston revealed different facets, cultured, thoughtful, even charming in his precise way.

"Tell me about the brother you lost," shesaid softly.

Herod's expression tightened momentarily, then relaxed. "Charles was the better of us. Kinder. More idealistic. He believed in love, in goodness. I always saw the darker side of human nature."

"And yet Victoria targeted him first."

"Because he was connected to what she loved most, her daughter." Herod swirled the wine in his gglass."The cruellest revenge strikes not at you directly, but at what you cherish."

Rose thought of Camille, of the Phoenix Grid, of how precisely their attack had been aimed at what her sister valued most. "We're following her playbook, aren't we? Using Victoria's own methods against her."

"With improvements," Herod added. "Victoria acted from raw grief. WNe move with calculation, patience."

"A dangerous combination," Rose murmured.

"Indeed." Herod's eyes lingered on her face. "Especially in someone as naturally gifted at manipulation as you."

Rose might once have taken this as an insult. Tonight, she recognized it as appreciation, one strategist acknowledging another's skill.

"We all use the tools life gives us," she said. "I learned early that my face, my charm could open doors that remained closed to others. That people believe what they want to believe, see what they want to see."

"And what do you want me to see tonight?" Herod asked, leaning forward slightly.

The directness of the question caught Rose off guard. She was accustomed to men who accepted her carefully constructed personas without question, who never looked for the truth beneath the performance.

" don't know," she admitted, surprising herself with her honesty. "I'm not sure who I am when I'm not fighting, scheming, surviving."

"Perhaps that's what we're discovering tonight," Herod suggested."Who Rose Lewis is when the masks come off,"

Their dinner arrived, exquisite plates of food too artful to immediately disturb. The waiter poured more wine and retreated, leaving them in their cocoon of privacy.

"I've worn so many faces," Rose said after a moment. "The grateful adopted daughter. The supportive sister. The perfect fiancée. Sometimes I wonder if there's anything real left underneath."

"Thereis," Herod said with unexpected certainty. "I've seen it, in your rage, your determination, your refusal to accept defeat. Those aren't masks, Rose. That's you."

His words touched something deep within her, a recognition she hadn't expected. In Herod's eyes, her darkness wasn't something tohide but something to acknowledge, even celebrate.

"Most people only want the pretty lies," she said softly.

"I'm not most people." His voice carried a weight that made her look up from her plate. "I see your ruthlessness, your capacity for vengeance, and I find it... compelling."

The word hung between them, charged with meaning. Rose felt her pulse quicken. She was accustomed to Inspiring desire in men, but always for the mirage she created. Never for her true self, especially not the darkest parts.

"Why did you really bring me to Montreal?" she asked directly.

Herod set down his fork, considering his answer. "Because partnerships forged only in hatred rarely survive.Because I wanted to know if there could be more between us than shared enemies."

"And is there?" Rose challenged, though she already suspected the answer.

Instead of replying, Herod reached across the table, his fingers brushing hers in a touch too deliberate to be accidental."What do you think?"

Rose didn't pull away. The contact sent electricity up her arm, a sensation both foreign and familiar.How long had it been since she'd felt genuine attraction, not calculated seduction? With Stefan, with all the others, physical connection had been a tool, a means to an end.

This felt different. Unpredictable. Dangerous in ways that had nothing to do with their revenge plans.

"I think," she said carefully, "that mixing business and pleasure complicates things."

"Complexity doesn't frighten me," Herod replied. "Does it frighten you?"

The question was a challenge, and Rose had never backed down from a challenge in her life. She turned her hand beneath his, their palms meeting, fingers intertwining.

"NO,"she said simply.

Something shifted in Herod's eyes, a heat that matched what she felt building within herself. For a moment,they remained perfectly still, connected by that single point of contact, the air between them charged with possibility.

"Shall we skip dessert?" Herod asked, his voice lower than before.

Rose nodded, suddenly certain. "Yes."

Hours later, Rose stood at the window of Herod's Montreal apartment, watching snow blanket the city.Behind her, sheets lay tangled on the bed, evidence of boundaries crossed, new territories explored. She wrapped herself tighter in the silk robe he'd provided, her body still humming from his touch.

Herod appeared in the doorway, two glasses of whiskey in hand. The moonlight silvered his bare chest,highlighting the unexpected strength of his body. Rose accepted the offered drink, their fingers brushing in a gesture now loaded with new meaning.

"Having regrets?" he asked, noticing her pensive expression.

Rose shook her head. "No. Surprises, maybe, but not regrets."

"What surprises you?"

She considered the question, tryingto untangle the knot of emotions inside her. "That I can still feel something real. After everything, the press conference, losing my family, being publicly vilified, I thought I might be... empty inside, Just hatred and revenge left."

Herod stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat from his body.d now?"

"Now I don't know what I feel," she admitted. "Except that it's more than I expected."

He didn't reach for her, respecting the space she needed. Another surprise, the patience in his desire.

"This doesn't change our plans," he said, reading her unspoken concern. "If anything,it strengthens our 0alliance."

Rose turned to face him fully.that what this is? An alliance strengthened?"

A smile touched his lips. "Among other things."

She studied him in the moonlight, this man who had seen her darkness and found it beautiful. Who matched her ruthlessness with his own. Who understood revenge not as a passing emotion but as a calling, a purpose.

"When this is over," she said quietly, "when we've destroyed them all, what then?"

The question had been lurking in the back of her mind for weeks. After revenge, after victory, what remained? Who would she be when there was no one left to fight?

Herod set down his glass and finally reached for her, his hand cupping her cheek with unexpected tenderness. "Perhaps we find out together."

The suggestion opened a door Rose hadn't allowed herself to imagine, a future beyond vengeance,beyond the single-minded pursuit that had defined her recent existence. A future possibly shared with someone who knew her true nature and accepted it without judgment.

"Together," she repeated, testing the word, its weight and possibility.

His eyes held hers, dark and certain. "If you wish it."

Rose leaned into his touch, making her choice. "I do."

As his lips met hers, gentler than before, Rose felt something break and reform inside her, not weakness,but a different kind of strength. The knowledge that even in her darkest moments, she remained capable of connection. That perhaps revenge wasn't the only future awaiting her.

Tomorrow they would return to New York, to their carefu plans, to the destruction of Camille and all she held dear.The Phoenix Grid would still fail, Kane Industries would still crumble, and Rose would watch it all with satisfaction.

But tonight had changed something fundamental. Tonight had shown her that beyond the ashes of her revenge, something unexpected might grow. Something shared with a man whose darkness complemented her own.

As snow continued to fall outside, covering Montreal in pristine white, Rose surrendered tothe moment,to the feeling, to.the surprising truth that even as she plotted destruction, she remained capable of creating something new.