“Threatening your boss. Very professional.”
Her smile was genuine this time, sharp as a razor. “I learned from the best.”
She left the office, and for the first time in a long while, I felt off-balance. The power dynamic had shifted; incrementally, but enough to matter.
I went back to the boardroom, but the meeting felt hollow. Nobody challenged my decisions. Nobody interrupted. When it ended, I lingered by the windows, watching the city in the late afternoon sun.
A soft knock at the door. Calvin, wearing a tie so ugly it had to be expensive.
“You have a minute?” he asked.
I nodded. “Your tie looks like shit.”
He closed the door behind himself, then took the tie off, tossing it in a crumpled pile on the table. “We need to talk contingency.”
“For?”
He hesitated, a rare thing for him. “If Eliza walks.”
“She won’t,” I said. The words were too quick, too certain.
He arched a brow. “You sure about that?”
I wasn’t. But I lied anyway. “I can handle her.”
He sat in the chair across from me, posture loose but intent. “I know you two have history. But she’s not just your adversary, Gabriel. She’s also your best shot at pulling this off.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I looked out at the city again. “I’ll make it work.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, quietly: “Don’t forget she’s my sister.”
I heard him leave, but kept my eyes on the skyline, mind already pulling apart every variable, every possible outcome. The only thing I couldn’t model for was her.
The contract would be fixed. The press would probably forget by tomorrow. But the dynamic had changed, and not in my favor.
And for the first time, I wondered if Eliza Reeves was the problem… or if she was the solution like her brother said.
Chapter Seven
Eliza
I beat everyone to the office, except the cleaning crew methodically vacuuming carpets that didn’t need it. Good. The building was at its best like this - obedient, quiet, predictable.
My workspace was exactly as I’d left it. No clutter. No surprises. Just the faint hum of electronics, the hushed roar of the cleaning crew’s tools, and the tangle of charging cords hidden in the bottom drawer, where chaos belonged.
My phone flashed the time: 6:22 a.m. For a few precious hours, the day would do what I told it to. I’d learned to take that illusion of control wherever I could get it.
Few minutes later I heard a knock at the door-three crisp taps against the glass. I looked up, obviously it was him.
Gabriel didn’t wait for an invitation; he just stepped inside. His jacket perfectly pressed, tie loosened just enough to suggest intention rather than fatigue. He scanned the room before looking at me, as if he was checking inventory.
I was included.
His reflection lingered in the glass and his dark suit was tailored with precision, the kind that didn’t wrinkle no matter how long the day stretched on.
He met my gaze with the easy certainty of someone who expected to be seen.