Victor
The silence Julian leaves behind is louder than his insults. It hangs in the opulent lobby, thick with the unasked questions of fifty strangers. The folded check lies on the rug between us, a pathetic white flag of a war he just declared.
Mallory is staring at it. She’s trembling, a single, violent tremor that runs through her entire body. Her face is pale, stripped of the defiant armor she wore just moments ago. He broke through. That bastard actually broke her.
A cold, precise anger settles deep in my bones. It’s a familiar feeling. The kind that precedes the systematic destruction of an enemy.
I step forward, closing the space between us. I ignore the staring eyes of the hotel guests and staff. They don’t exist. Right now, only she does.
“Are you okay?” I ask again, my voice low.
She shakes her head, a sharp, jerky motion. Her eyes, when they finally lift to meet mine, are swimming in a humiliation so profound it feels like a physical blow. “He did that on purpose. He wanted everyone to see.”
“I know,” I say. My gaze drifts to the check on the floor. Ten thousand dollars. I have more than that in the wallet in my back pocket. The sheer arrogance is almost impressive.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say. “This place has bad taste.”
She nods, but she’s frozen, rooted to the spot by the weight of all those eyes. I bend down, my movements fluid, and pick up the folded check. Her breath hitches.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, her voice ragged. She thinks I’ve changed my mind. The thought is a fresh insult.
I don’t answer. I walk over to the concierge desk where she was standing. Her manager is still hovering nearby, looking like he wants to be anywhere else on earth. I catch his eye. He flinches.
“Is there a charity donation box in this hotel?” I ask, my voice calm and even.
He blinks, confused. “Sir? A… yes, for the children’s hospital. It’s just over there.” He points a trembling finger toward a clear acrylic box near the bell stand.
“Thank you.” I walk over, Mallory’s eyes following my every move. I slip Julian Croft’s check through the slot. It lands on a pile of fives and twenties. A drop in a bucket I could fill a thousand times over.
I turn back to her. Some of the shock in her eyes has been replaced by confusion. Good. Confusion is better than devastation.
“Come on,” I say, offering her my hand. “You look like you could use a drink. A real one. Not in a place like this.”
She hesitates for a second, then her fingers slide into mine. Her hand is ice-cold. I lead her out of the lobby, away from the whispers and the stares. I don’t look back.
The city air is cool on my face. The noise of traffic is a welcome change from the suffocating silence of the hotel. I lead her a block down the street to a small, dark bar with a neon sign that just says ‘DRINKS’.
It’s the kind of place Julian Croft wouldn’t be caught dead in. It’s perfect.
We slide into a booth in the back corner. The vinyl is cracked and the table is sticky. Mallory pulls her hand from mine, wrapping both around the menu as if for warmth.
“I don’t know what to say,” she says, not looking at me. “Thank you. For what you did back there. For not… for not taking it.”
“He was trying to buy you, not me,” I say. “And you already told me you weren’t for sale.”
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. “I can’t believe Seraphina tracked you down. I’m so sorry. They had no right to drag you into this.”
“They didn’t drag me,” I correct her. “I walked in on my own. And from what I saw, they’re the ones who should be sorry.”
The waitress comes over, a woman with tired eyes and a tattoo of a rose on her wrist. “What can I get you?”
“Whiskey,” I say. “Whatever’s cheap. And one for the lady.”
Mallory looks up. “Just a ginger ale for me, please.”
The waitress nods and shuffles away.
“No more champagne?” I ask, a slight tease in my voice.
“I think I’m done with champagne for a while,” she says quietly. “Maybe forever.” She finally looks at me, really looks at me. “Why did you come? When she called you.”
It’s a direct question. A test.
“I was curious,” I answer honestly. “And I had a feeling it was a trap. I don’t like people who set traps.”
“You walked right into it.”
“Sometimes that’s the best way to disarm them,” I reply. My phone vibrates in my pocket. A single, sharp buzz. Marcus. Right on time.
“Excuse me for a moment,” I say, sliding out of the booth. “I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”
She just nods, looking small and lost at the scarred wooden table. I walk toward the back of the bar, near the restrooms, and answer the phone. My entire demeanor shifts. The calm, easygoing man from the booth disappears.
“Report,” I say, my voice low and stripped of any warmth.
“Sir.” Marcus’s voice is crisp, efficient. He never wastes a word. “Phase one of the Croft acquisition is complete. We’ve secured the majority share of their primary lender. Their credit lines are now under our control.”
“Good.” I glance back at the booth. Mallory is staring into her glass of ginger ale. “Julian Croft just tried to buy my silence for ten thousand dollars in the lobby of the Ellis Astoria.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line. I know what Marcus is thinking. The insult is monumental.
“Understood, sir,” he says, his voice a degree colder. “Shall I proceed with the next step?”
“Accelerate it,” I command. “I want to start cutting off his oxygen. Squeeze the credit lines. I want his quarterly reports to bleed red. I want him to feel it.”
“Consider it done. And the woman? Miss Ellis? Our surveillance showed she was the target of the confrontation.”
I watch her trace a circle on the table with her finger. At the party, she was a wounded lioness, all fury and fire. Here, she just looks wounded.
“She’s… the reason this is personal now,” I say. “He thinks I’m a pauper. Some guy she picked up in a bar. It’s the perfect cover. I’m going to let him believe it.”
“Sir?” Marcus’s voice is laced with a rare hint of concern. “Is that wise? Getting personally involved could compromise the operation.”
“The operation just changed, Marcus. This isn’t just about a hostile takeover anymore. He humiliated her in front of the world to make himself feel powerful. I’m going to show him what real power is.” I think of her fiery eyes when she first approached me at that party. She wasn’t looking for a savior. She was looking for a weapon.
I’m more than happy to be one.
“Keep a protective detail on her,” I order. “Discreet. I want to know everywhere she goes. I want to know if Croft or the stepsister so much as breathe in her direction.”
“Of course, sir. The team is already in place. Anything else?”
“Yes,” I say, my eyes still fixed on Mallory. “Run a full background on Seraphina. The stepsister. I want to know every secret she has. Every skeleton in her closet. Find her leverage points and report back to me by morning.”
“It will be done.”
“Good.” I hang up without another word and slide the phone back into my pocket. I take a deep breath, letting the mask of the easygoing, worn-denim man settle back over my features. The transition is seamless. A lifetime of practice.
I walk back to the booth. Our drinks are there. My cheap whiskey and her ginger ale. She looks up as I slide back in.
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Just work,” I say, picking up my glass. It’s a lie, but also the truest thing I’ve ever said. This is my work. Taking apart men like Julian Croft. Men who believe their money and their name make them untouchable.
“What is it you do?” she asks, her curiosity finally winning out.
I take a sip of the whiskey. It burns. “I’m in acquisitions,” I say, another true lie. “I find undervalued assets and I… help them realize their full potential.”
She nods, accepting the vague corporate-speak. She thinks I’m talking about small businesses, maybe. Not global corporations. Not people’s lives.
“It sounds complicated,” she says.
“It can be,” I agree. “But sometimes, it’s simple. You just see something, or someone, and you know their worth. And you don’t let anyone else tell you you’re wrong.”
My eyes hold hers. She understands I’m not just talking about work anymore.
The game has begun. He thinks it’s his, but he’s just a pawn. A loud, arrogant pawn I’m about to sweep from the board. Mallory is the real prize. And I’m playing for keeps. She just doesn’t know it yet.
