[CONTENT TEMPLATE HERE]
Chapter 663:
Brogan’s door opened. He rounded the car with contained violence and stopped inches from Crawford’s chest, his fists at his sides.
“You think you’ve won,” he said, his voice low and shaking with suppressed rage. “You think this evening means something p>
Crawford’s expression changed.
The lazy amusement fell away like a mask, revealing something cold and deliberate beneath. His shoulders settled. His chin lifted. He was no longer the faintly ridiculous figure folded into a sports car — he was something else entirely, a man who had been performing at civilization and had now decided to stop.
“Won?” His voice was soft, almost gentle. “Clements, I haven’t even begun p>
He stepped closer. Brogan didn’t retreat, but the impulse was there — primal, biological, the recognition of something larger and more dangerous entering his space.
“Your hand,” Crawford said. “On her back. Guiding her. Claiming her.” His own hand shot out and closed on Brogan’s shoulder with crushing precision, fingers finding nerve clusters, forcing an involuntary hitch of breath. “Do you think I didn’t see? Do you think my team missed a single moment of this evening p>
Brogan twisted free and stepped back, his shoulder throbbing. “You’re not rational. She isn’t property. She doesn’t belong to p>
“She belongs to me.” Crawford’s voice remained level, almost conversational, but it carried an absolute weight. “Her attention. Her time. Every thought in her mind. I claimed her the night I pulled her from that car, the night I bled for her, the night she looked at me as something other than an inconvenience p>
He advanced, step by step, until Brogan’s back found the Aston Martin’s hood.
“And you,” Crawford continued, “are a trespasser. Do you know what happens to trespassers, Clements p>
Rom𝘢𝗇𝖼𝘦 n𝘰𝘷𝗲𝗅ѕ 𝘰𝘯
“You can’t threaten me. I’m not p>
“I can buy your company.” Crawford’s smile was terrible and precise, the smile of a man who had never been denied anything he genuinely wanted. “I can acquire your debt, your suppliers, your investors. I can make calls tomorrow morning that will ensure Apex Bio never raises another dollar in this city, this country, or on this continent p>
He leaned in close enough that Brogan could smell whiskey and cedar and the absolute certainty of unchecked power.
“Three months,” Crawford whispered. “That’s how long you’ll last before you’re liquidating assets to cover payroll. Three months before you’re asking me for mercy p>
Brogan’s jaw tightened. “She’ll know it was you. If you move against her company p>
“She’ll never connect it to me.” Crawford straightened and adjusted his cuffs with unhurried care. “It won’t be me, Clements. It will be market forces. Bad luck. The predictable consequence of poor timing.” He paused. “I’m very skilled at making things appear inevitable p>
He reached into his pocket, withdrew a silk handkerchief, and wiped his hands with deliberate ceremony — the hand that had gripped Brogan’s shoulder, cleansed of the contact. Then he let the handkerchief fall. It drifted to the pavement between them, a white square that was simultaneously a gesture of dismissal and a declaration that Brogan wasn’t worth the laundry bill.