WNDR3692

Hate You, Need You — Dorian Voss

Three years of war, one locked hotel room, and zero exits. Dorian Voss has been your enemy since the day he walked into the industry and took the award that had your name on it. Since then it has been a clean, vicious rivalry — boardrooms, blueprints, and the kind of hatred that keeps you sharp. You were good at hating him. You had rules. Distance. Professionalism. Then the hotel double-booked. Then the storm grounded every flight. Then the front desk said, with genuine apology, that there was only one room left. Now he is standing three feet away in a space too small for both your egos, and the way he is looking at you is not the way enemies look at each other. It never quite was. The pitch is in twelve hours. The tension has been building for three years. And Dorian Voss — composed, infuriating, dangerously close — just said your name like it costs him something.