Dorian’s jaw ticks. “We did anticipate it. It’s addressed in sections fourteen and fifteen of the model.”
Claude waves him off, and Dorian looks like he’s going to rip out his jugular. “Models only tell me so much. I prefer to hear the rationale aloud. Numbers can be manipulated, after all.”
“There’s no manipulation.” I lean forward, letting the steel edge of my voice bleed through. “The variance is tied to the reallocation cycle we disclosed to your advisors three months ago.”
Claude hums noncommittally. “Mm. Perhaps. But with everything that happened in New York years ago, I’m sure you understand why Zurich prefers caution.”
There it is again. The accusation. The fucking past that will always follow me no matter where I go. Or what I do.
A muscle jumps in my jaw. I inhale slowly, letting the anger lodge in my ribs instead of detonating.
“I understand caution.” My tone is razor-edged but steady. “What I don’t understand is resurrecting a matter the SEC cleared four years ago. Zurich signed off on my compliance reforms. Your board did, too. So, unless you’d like to contradict your own due diligence, we need to move forward. Or perhaps rethink this partnership.”
Claude’s mouth snaps shut, and the motherfucker goes still, the fake confidence draining from his eyes.Good.
I’m bluffing, but he doesn’t know that. And he won’t test me.
He won’t take that risk.
The truth is, Icouldpull the deal, and Vale Global would be fine. We’d still run the world the way we always have. But Zurich? They’d lose the chance to level up in ways they can’t even quantify yet.
No matter what Claude thinks of me, he’s not stupid enough to let that slip through his fingers.
“Let us move forward with the deal,” he mutters, giving me a stiff nod.
I flick a glance at Dorian, who looks like he’s barely restraining a smirk. Then I return my attention to Claude. “Wonderful. I’ll have my assistant set up our next meeting.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to argue, then apparently thinks better of it. “Of course.”
He stands. We rise, too, exchanging a brief, perfunctory handshake.
Claude leaves without a backwards glance.
The door clicks shut behind him, and the second it does, the mask I’ve been wearing all damn day cracks.
My jaw locks. My pulse spikes.
Every inch of me is fucking done.
I didn’t fly across an ocean to babysit a man’s insecurities.
I came here forher. And every minute Claude kept me trapped in this boardroom was another Isla spent alone.
I know her. She’ll be hurt, confused, and hating me more than she already does.
I drag a hand over my face, fighting the urge to tear the whole damn table in half.
“Nice move, bro,” Dorian says with a smirk. “He looked like he was about to shit himself.”
“Fucking bastard. I wish we didn’t have to work with him.”
“You and me both. I’m the one who has to correspond with himweekly. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to see his ugly mug until at least Christmas.”
I give Dorian a sidelong stare. “I appreciate you for coming.”
“Don’t mention it. Go on, get out of here. I’ll pack up.”
“When are you heading back to New York?”
