Emergency happens

We step out of the stadium into the warm evening air, the roar of the crowd fading behind us like a dying storm. Helena is walking fast, her Argentina jersey slightly rumpled, her hair a chaotic mess of dark waves. She’s trying to outrun the version of herself I just witnessed—the girl who screamed profanities at refs and kissed me in a fit of feral joy.

The "Smooth Operator" is desperately trying to reassemble herself. I see her adjusting her posture, trying to find that Columbia-grad stiffness again, but her cheeks are still flushed, and she keeps glancing at me with a look that is half-defensive, half-longing.

The "Tsundere" mask is cracked beyond repair. She can’t quite bring herself to insult me anymore, but she isn't ready to surrender either. She’s stuck in the middle—****, yet sharp.

Then her phone vibrates.

The transformation is instantaneous. Her expression snaps into attorney mode—tense, controlled, and lethal. But as she looks at the caller ID, she doesn't look at me with the old coldness. She looks at me like someone she can’t afford to lose sight of.

“Helena,” she answers, her voice clipped and professional.

I’m close enough to hear the frantic tone on the other end. Then her eyes widen, and she looks directly at me. “What files? … No, those are his files. Even if they’re old, a leak like that could gut his reputation before the primary.”

My stomach tightens with a grim satisfaction. The plan has launched. The "vulnerabilities" my shipmate planted are being "discovered."

She turns slightly away, lowering her voice. “I don’t care if it’s a weekend. Lock down the server. If those documents hit the press, we’re not just looking at a scandal; we’re looking at a funeral for his career.”

She ends the call and turns back to me. The rowdy college girl is gone, replaced by the shark. But the shark is trembling. She wants to tell me. I can see the "Fixer" in her battling the woman who just shared a beer and a kiss with the man she’s supposed to be "saving."

“Emergency at the office,” she says, her voice steady but her fingers twitching against her phone. “I… I have to go. Raincheck on the rest of the bet?”

She tries to wave it off like it’s nothing, but the mask isn't holding. She looks at me with a terrifyingly genuine fear—not fear of me, but fear for me.

“It’s fine,” I tell her, my voice low. “Go fix the world, Helena.”

She stops walking. The crowd flows around us, but she stands still in the center of the plaza, staring at me. The "Tsundere" would have made a snide comment. The "Smooth Operator" would have given a professional nod.

Instead, she steps into my space.

“I’m so glad you blackmailed me into this,” she whispers, her voice a mix of exhaustion and heat. “I haven't felt this… human… in years. And now I might have to watch you burn.”

Before I can respond, she reaches up, grabs the front of my jersey, and pulls me down.

This kiss isn’t the chaotic victory-spark of the stadium. It’s deliberate. It’s slow, intentional, and tastes of the **** need to protect something. Her tongue slides against mine, a silent promise from a woman who is no longer my enemy, but isn't quite my lover yet.

She pulls back, breathless. “I won the bet. So I’m taking care of the rest of the day… next weekend. Don't go getting yourself ruined before then.”

She presses her palm to my chest one last time before spinning toward her SUV. She’s already back on the phone, her voice barking commands that could level a city block.

“No, listen to me! I want a full audit of the breach. I want names. I want timestamps. And I want those files isolated and encrypted before I step foot in that building!”

She isn't a fan. She isn't a flirt. She is the predator protecting her territory.

I watch her disappear into the backseat of her car, the tinted windows shielding her from the world. I grip the steering wheel of my own vehicle and let out a slow, measured breath.

“Plan’s working perfectly,” I murmur to the empty cabin.

She thinks she’s saving me. She thinks she’s the one in control. And that belief is the very thing that will lead her right into the diamond collar I’ve prepared for her.