Chapter 457
Chapter 457:
“You are enjoying this too much,” Alistair said. His voice was a low rumble, vibrating through the quiet office.
Skye didn’t look up. She picked up a fountain pen, the nib hovering over the first envelope.
“I’m not enjoying it,” she corrected, her voice cool and detached. “I’m executing a strategy. There’s a difference p>
She signed the back of the envelope with a flourish. She didn’t seal it. She held it out to him.
Alistair pushed off the doorframe and walked toward her. He moved with that predatory grace that always made the air in the room feel thinner. He took the envelope from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers. The contact sent a familiar spark shooting up her arm, a reminder that underneath the business-partner facade, he was the man who slept in her bed.
He looked at the addressee.
Dominic Thorne.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Alistair’s mouth. It was not a nice smile. It was the smile of a wolf watching a lamb limp away from the flock.
“Sending a summons to the enemy,” Alistair mused. “Bold. He will burn it p>
“He will want to burn it,” Skye said, standing and smoothing the skirt of her pencil dress. “But he won’t. He’ll frame it. Because he needs to verify who is in the room. He needs to see, with his own eyes, who chose us over him p>
She walked over to the window, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Is the courier dispatch ready?” she asked.
“Hundreds of them,” Alistair confirmed, setting the envelope on the desk. “Going out within the hour via private courier. It’s short notice, forty-eight hours, but that is the point. It forces a reactive decision. By tomorrow morning, every power player in the city will know they have to make an immediate choice. Thorne Manor or Kensington Estate. Us or them p>
Skye nodded. Her reflection in the glass looked harder than she remembered. The soft curves of her face from five years ago were gone, replaced by angles and resolve.
“Good,” she whispered. “Let them choose p>
Across the city, the atmosphere inside the headquarters of Thorne Corp was not one of anticipation. It was suffocating.
The air conditioning hummed on overdrive, but the boardroom felt like a sauna. Dominic Thorne stood at the head of the long mahogany table. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, exposing a sheen of sweat on his neck.
He wasn’t looking at a spreadsheet. He was looking at a disaster.
𝗧𝘩оusа𝗻𝘥𝘀 o𝗳 ոo𝘃𝖾𝘭𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗯𝖾𝗅ո𝗈𝘷e𝗹𝘴.𝖼𝗈𝘮
He picked up the tablet sitting on the table and hurled it across the room.
It smashed against the far wall, the glass screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks before clattering to the floor. The sound was sharp, violent, and utterly futile.
“Down another four percent!” Dominic roared. His chest heaved. “How is that possible? We released the press statement about the Kensington merger. The market should be rallying p>
His secretary, Wayne, stood by the door. Wayne was a small man with shifting eyes and a spine made of jelly. He stepped carefully over the broken glass of the tablet, clutching a file folder to his chest like a shield.
“The market is reacting to the rumors, sir,” Wayne stammered. “The rumors about liquidity issues. And the recent arrest of Ms. Quinn. Investors are wary of the Kensington brand right now p>
Dominic slammed his hands onto the table, leaning his weight on them. His knuckles turned white.
“I don’t care about that thief Sienna Quinn,” he hissed. “I care about the shell company her mother controls. Find me money, Wayne. You know how to cook the books. That’s why I hired you after Lucian cast you aside. Prove your worth p>
Wayne swallowed hard. Dominic believed he had poached Wayne from Lucian Graves because of his accounting skills, unaware that Wayne was actually a double agent planted by Skye.
“I spoke to the banks, sir. Chase, Citi, even the private equity firms in London. They all declined p>