Loving Mr. Wolf

You know what’s worse than falling for your competition? 

Falling for him after he steals a $10 million deal using your fingerprint… and then has the audacity to wink like its foreplay. 

Yeah. That’s my life. 

I’m Evie Monroe. CEO of Everglow Beauty. Jersey-born, middle-class-raised, and now worth more than every boy who ignored me in high school combined. I built Everglow with a dream, a Google Doc, and a blender I still haven’t returned to my mom. 

And now I’m here. Corner office. Media buzz. Eight-figure contracts. You’d think I’d have it all. 

Except I don’t. 

Because despite the money, the attention, the viral moments… I still go home alone. 

See, I’m an old-school love kind of girl. The handwritten letters, forehead kisses, Sunday morning pancakes kind. The type who wants someone to notice when my Spotify changes moods or when my eyes linger on something too long. 

But this generation? 

We get “u up?” 

We get dry snaps, commitment issues, and people who flinch at the word exclusive. 

So, I stopped looking. 

Until he showed up again. 

Sebastian Wolf. 

CEO of Valken Labs. My company’s biggest competitor. The man who once compared my brand to “a Sephora sampler box gone rogue” on a podcast. 

He’s tall. British. Sharp-tongued. And infuriatingly attractive in that “I’ll ruin your life and make you thank me” kind of way. 

We’ve crossed paths for years, industry mixers, product expos, and investor galas. Our flirtatious fights were practically a spectator sport. People shipped us online like we were some enemies-to-lovers Wattpad trope. 

If only they knew how close they were. 

It started at a charity auction. 

I was reaching for a glass of champagne when his voice slid into my ear. “You look like heartbreak in a dress.” 

I turned. “And you look like a lawsuit waiting to happen.” 

His smirk grew. “Still allergic to compliments, Monroe?” 

“Still drowning in your own ego, Wolf?” 

He clinked his glass against mine. “Ever considered a fling? No press. No strings. Just two wildly attractive CEOs… blowing off steam.” 

I snorted. “You think you’re steam-worthy?” 

He leaned in, voice low. “Admit it. You’ve wondered.” 

I wish I could say I walked away. 

Instead… I stayed. 

He sent a follow-up text the next morning. Then lunch during a board meeting. Then a bouquet of sunflowers with a card that read: 

“You said you liked things that grow. I listened.” 

And somehow, we fell into something. 

It wasn’t love. Not officially. 

He called it stress management. I called it a temporary lapse in sanity. 

But we had rules: no labels, no press, no feelings. 

Obviously, I broke all three. 

It was in the little things. 

The way he made tea the exact way I liked—two sugars, no judgment. The way he’d tease me for working late but sit beside me in silence, answering his own emails just to stay close. 

The way he once texted: 

“You forget to breathe when you’re overwhelmed. I notice.” 

What do you even say to that? 

I started to imagine a future. One where Sebastian wasn’t just a rival or a secret. 

One where he was mine. 

But reality has a sick sense of humor. 

I was about to close the biggest deal of my career. An international partnership that would put Everglow in stores across Europe and Asia. I worked on it for nine months, pitched, negotiated, and nearly bled for it. 

All I needed was one final scan to verify the deal. 

That night, Sebastian came over with wine, flirty smiles, and encouragement that felt too perfectly timed. 

“You’re close,” he said, brushing hair from my face. “You’re about to change the game.” 

I scanned the document on my tablet. Trusted him enough not to lock it away. 

Three days later? 

The deal was gone. 

Transferred. Sealed. Signed—by Valken Labs. 

I thought it was a glitch. A mistake. 

Until I checked the logs. 

The access. The biometric signature. 

My fingerprint. 

Used without consent. 

By him. 

I didn’t cry. 

I raged. 

Then I got smart. 

I invited him to a “peace dinner” at a luxury spa resort. Said I wanted to bury the hatchet. He bought it, of course. 

When he walked in, wearing that arrogant grin and tailored suit, I wanted to punch him and kiss him at the same time. 

“You miss me already?” he asked, sitting across from me like he didn’t just commit corporate betrayal. 

I handed him a drink. Just a little something to loosen him up. 

“Why’d you do it?” I asked, calmly. 

He blinked. “Do what?” 

“Don’t play dumb, Sebastian. You used me.” 

He hesitated. Then sighed, setting down the glass. 

“It wasn’t supposed to go that far.” 

I scoffed. “So what was I, huh? A warm body with a useful fingerprint?” 

“No.” He stood. “God, no. You were—are—so much more than that.” 

I stared. 

“I thought it was just a strategy,” he said, voice low. “A power move. But then you started sending me those dumb voice notes at 2AM. You laughed at my bad jokes. You showed up in sweats and still managed to ruin my day. I didn’t plan on falling for you.” 

I wanted to believe him. I really did. 

But how do you forgive betrayal disguised as affection? 

I had his confession on video. Every word. 

I could’ve leaked it. Ruined him. 

Instead, I rewrote the contract. 

Launched the deal publicly as a joint venture—Everglow x Valken. 

The world thought we’d planned it all. “Two industry leaders join forces.” Cute headlines. Buzzing investors. 

My company thrived. 

His PR team scrambled. 

Balance: restored. 

He didn’t text me after that. 

Two weeks passed. 

Then one morning, a box appeared on my desk. 

Inside: a vintage cassette tape. 

With a sticky note: 

“You wanted old-school love. I’m learning.” 

I rolled my eyes. 

Then smiled. 

He was still an idiot. 

But maybe… a little less of one. 

And maybe, just maybe, this time I wouldn’t walk away. 

Because yeah, he played me. 

But somewhere between the banter, betrayal, and those 2AM voice notes… 
He also fell. 

Hard. 

Comment Question: 

Would you give someone a second chance if they betrayed you—but claimed they never meant to fall in love?