A Poisonous Game

Electric Hearts:

The room was filled with an electric hum, the kind of tension that seemed to make the air thicker, harder to breathe. Journalists stood in clusters, cameras at the ready, microphones poised, all eyes trained on the two figures who sat across from each other on stage. The distance between them wasn’t much, but it felt like miles. Or maybe just inches.

It was the first time they’d been in the same space since the breakup—the breakup that had shocked the world, fractured the image of the perfect power couple. They had been a phenomenon. The CEO and the artist. The mogul and the muse. His name had been synonymous with success, power, ambition. Hers had been spoken in the same breath as artistry, brilliance, innovation. Together, they were the golden couple—magnetic, inseparable, untouchable.

But love is never as it seems. And when the world sees too much of it, when it becomes a commodity for the tabloids, even the most electrifying connections can short-circuit. And so, they had ended.

And now, here they were. Separated by space, yet bound by something unspoken. Something that couldn’t be named.

Her back was turned to him, her eyes focused straight ahead, but she could feel the heat of his gaze piercing through her. The room was lit with bright white lights, but it was his presence that seemed to cast shadows. The aura of him was magnetic, like a force pulling at her from a distance she hadn’t been prepared for.

She had made a name for herself long before she met him, but with him, her fame had reached new heights. She was an artist, a singer, a songwriter, a producer, a dancer. The accolades were many—graced the covers of magazines, won awards that people only dreamt of, her voice had been the soundtrack to millions of lives. Yet, none of that compared to the power he had over her.

She couldn’t quite explain it. How his mere presence seemed to take up more space in her mind than anyone else. How she had fallen for him in the first place—his sharp intellect, the dangerous glint in his eyes, the way he dominated a room before he even spoke. He was intoxicating, like the perfect poison. And she had willingly drunk from the cup.

Her dress was black, sleek, and unyielding. It hugged her body like a second skin, the fabric shimmering slightly under the lights. But it was the backless design that drew the most attention. The dress exposed her spine—her sacred, marked spine. Hieroglyphics were tattooed across her skin, an intricate design that told the stories of her ancestors, her heritage, her journey. It was a symbol of who she was—rooted in history yet unafraid of the future. But to him, it was more than a tattoo.

It was a reminder.

A reminder of everything they had once shared, everything that had been, and everything they had lost.

He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving her. She felt it, that constant weight of his gaze on her skin, even from behind. He wasn’t just looking at her—he was studying her. Sizing her up as though he wanted to know what lay behind the surface. And she hated it. But she also loved it.

His gaze was a storm. Wild. Relentless. And though she refused to turn around, to acknowledge him directly, she could feel the pull of it in every inch of her body. The way her pulse quickened. The way her breath faltered. The way her fingers itched to reach for him, even if it was just to remind herself that he was real.

He was real.

The room seemed to shrink around them as the interview began, their voices rising and falling in the haze of questions. They both spoke—articulate, measured—but beneath the words, the tension was palpable. They were no longer the power couple the world adored. They were two forces, colliding, pretending to play nice for the cameras but each knowing that something deeper, something darker, was simmering just beneath the surface.

The interviewer, unaware of the gravity of what was happening, pressed forward. “So, it’s been a while since we’ve seen you both together. How does it feel to share the same stage again?”

Her lips curved ever so slightly into a smile, the smallest hint of something mischievous flashing in her eyes. She had always been the one who controlled the room. He might have been a CEO, but she was the artist, the creator, the one who could weave magic with her presence. She spoke softly, but the words hit hard.

“It feels like déjà vu.”

Her voice was a velvet caress, yet the underlying edge was sharp. A subtle warning. She wasn’t here to play nice. Not today.

“And what does that mean exactly?” The interviewer pressed, eager to get some juicy headline out of this.

Her eyes slid toward him then, just for a moment, enough to catch the flicker of tension in his gaze. He was leaning forward, his lips slightly parted as though he was about to speak, but he remained silent. Watching.

“It means,” she continued, “that history has a funny way of repeating itself.”

He let out a slow breath, an audible sound that no one in the room could miss. He hadn’t expected her to respond so coolly, so poised, so damn perfectly. She had always been the one who held all the power, even when they were together. And now, in the quiet tension of their separation, it was more apparent than ever.

She could feel his eyes on her again—no longer just a silent observation but a palpable force pressing against her skin. It was suffocating, but she wouldn’t let him see it. She wouldn’t let him win that easily.

“Just as dangerous?” he finally murmured, his voice low and dangerous, yet laden with a quiet yearning.

She knew that voice. The one he used when he wanted something. When he needed something. And she hated how much she still wanted to give it to him.

Her lips quirked in the slightest of smirks, her gaze never leaving the floor in front of her. “Perhaps,” she said softly, “but we both know that danger is what made us who we are.”

The words hung in the air like smoke, lingering in the room, curling around them both. And then, for just a second, time seemed to stop. She could feel the weight of everything that had passed between them—the passion, the argument, the betrayals, and the love that had burned so fiercely it almost consumed them.

They had been everything. And now they were nothing.

But the game had just begun.