The problem with blackmail is that it’s not a foolproof form of insurance. I hold a few of Zane’s secrets, but he also knows that I’m withholding that information from Rune and using it as leverage.
I know what Zane did. And now he knows what I know.
And it’s possible so does Viper. Not that I know for certain. And I can’t just outright ask him.
What I know about my mother would ruin everything.
Including Delly.
Zane’s grated curse brings me back to my current problem. A late afternoon meeting with two of the men I hate, and one disgusting cheater. Unable to avoid this meeting today,I now sit around the long conference table in the boardroom with Rune, Zane, cheater Dave, and one temperamental Clyde.
I glance at him sitting in the large leather chair beside me and roll my eyes as Zane shouts out another curse, but he’s so focused on Zane, and the blonde assistant he’s yelling at, that he doesn’t notice.
Zane’s entire demeanor today screams of entitlement, lined with rage. He’s the perfect picture of controlled violence, with sleek blonde hair and handsome features, all stuffed into a navy business suit and paisley tie. Even the backdrop of sterile gray walls and the large windows overlooking downtown fit his persona. Pretentious, privileged, and arrogantly cruel.
As I watch him sorting through papers with one hand and verbally abusing his assistant until she’s cowering at every snarl and aggressive word, I can’t feel bad about my lack of morals.
Zane has none.
“It’s not fucking here,” Zane snaps, his blue eyes burning through her. He smacks the stack of files with his uninjured hand, and she flinches.
“What’s not there?” she asks, her gaze moving around the table, landing briefly on Clyde, then Dave, then me.
She’s young, maybe even younger than me, with big blue eyes and a friendly face. I don’t know her name. Not that it matters. She won’t last long at the rate Zane is going.
“The. Fucking. Contract,” Zane grinds out through clenched teeth. “I gave you instructions to have the files here for today’s meeting.”
“There was no note,” she says, and when he snatches the file from her hands, she reels back like she’s worried he may hit her.
From the head of the table, Rune clears his throat, and Zane runs his palm over his hair, smoothing down invisible fly-aways, regaining his composure. “I told you to prepare me a copy when you sent the contracts.”
I raise my hand and clear my throat. “I forwarded the contract, remember?”
That gets Zane’s attention, and the assistant slinks out the door as he directs all that volatile irritation toward me. He’s such a prick. The delight swirling through me at his deadly glare should make me feel even more morally corrupt, but it doesn’t.
I give him a saccharine smile. “If you remember, you sent me a memo about wanting the document sent to”—I shuffle papers pretending to read them—“to Ben Snyder’s associates so they could review and sign.”
Zane props his only working hand on the edge of the boardroom table, fingers rubbing together like he’s imagining strangling me.
I gesture to him. “If I remember correctly, things sort of got out of hand.” I smile sweetly, eyeing the arm in the sling that secures his hand to his chest. “And then you had an unfortunate accident.”
“God, you’re a fucking bitch,” he snaps.
“Call her a name again, and you’ll be needing someone to hold your dick while you piss,” Clyde snarls.
I huff out a laugh, but it dies as Rune reaches for my hand. He lifts my hand and presses my knuckles to his lips before letting my hand go. My fingers burn, imaginary acid scalding my flesh, and every one of my nerve endings strains with the effort it takes not to look at Clyde’s reaction.
“Cora,” he says. “Did you send the documents as asked?”
“No, Papa, I couldn’t send the files on the day it was requested.” I clear my throat as I gesture to Zane. “I could not return to the office and—”
“Because you can’t work from home?” Zane snarls. He scoffs. “I swear to god, Rune, she is useless.”
“Enough,” Rune says, voice like ice. “You’re the one who invited trouble—”
“How was this my fault?” Zane yells, lifting his hand in the sling. “I didn’t do a damn thing.”
Rune stands upright, his palm slamming down on the table hard enough to rattle the pitcher of water and row of glasses.
