"We have a situation," he said without preamble, his voice low enough that only Connor and I could hear. "Harris has been making calls to your competitors."
My blood ran cold. Harris was smarter than I'd given him credit for. "What kind of calls?"
Michael's eyes flicked to Connor, then back to me. "The kind that end with hostile takeovers. He's trying to destroy Montgomery Industries to get to you."
The implications slammed into me with physical force. This wasn't just about Connor anymore. Harris was attacking my company—the legacy I'd built, the thousands of employees who depended on me, the work that had been my entire identity since before the accident.
"How bad?" I kept my voice steady, years of business crises having trained me to remain calm even as my mind raced through scenarios and counter-strategies.
"Crenshaw at Apex Industries took the call this morning. Davidson at Global Tech this afternoon." Michael's expression darkened further. "They're listening, Julian. Harris is offering insider information, weaknesses in our infrastructure that only someone with intimate knowledge would have."
Connor's hand found my shoulder, squeezing slightly. I reached up to cover it with my own, drawing strength from the contact as I processed what this meant.
"He's trying to get to me through you," Connor whispered, the realization dawning in his eyes. "Because he knows you'll protect me."
"Yes," I agreed, not bothering to soften the truth. "And he's about to discover exactly how far I'll go to protect what's mine."
Inside the waiting car, Connor's hand found mine again, his grip tighter than before. The privacy partition was raised, sealing us in a bubble of leather and silence, the soft hum of the engine providing the only background to our thoughts.
I watched his face in profile as he stared out the rain-speckled window, the city lights reflecting in his eyes, making them seem deeper, more haunted than they had been this morning.
"This is because of me," Connor whispered, the words barely audible over the soft purr of the engine. His fingers tightened around mine, the butterfly bandage on his arm a stark reminder of how much had changed in just a few hours.
I turned to him, releasing his hand to cup his face gently, guiding his eyes to meet mine. "No. This is because Harris is a predator who can't stand losing." I kept my voice firm, brooking no argument. "He would have done this regardless. Men like him don't accept defeat."
Connor's expression remained unconvinced, the weight of guilt heavy in his eyes. "He's going after your company because of me, because you protected me."
"He's going after my company because it's what matters to me," I corrected. "Just like you matter to me. It's what men like Harris do—they identify what you value and try to take it, to control you through it."
The admission—that Connor mattered to me, that he had somehow become as important as the company I'd spent my life building—surprised us both. Connor's eyes widened slightly, searching my face for signs that I was merely saying what he needed to hear.
I let him look, let him see the truth I was still coming to terms with myself. In the space of days, this stranger had somehow carved out a place in my life that I hadn't realized was empty until he filled it.
The car moved smoothly through evening traffic, the interior quiet except for the occasional sound of tires on wet pavement. Rain had begun to fall more heavily, streaking the windows and transforming the city lights into blurred watercolors.
My mind raced through the implications of Harris's new attack vector. Montgomery Industries employed thousands of people, all of whom would be affected if Harris succeeded in destabilizing the company.
The board would be in panic mode once news of potential hostile takeover attempts reached them. Shareholders would demand action, protection of their investments.
And yet, sitting beside Connor in the back of this car, those concerns felt strangely distant compared to the more immediate threat to the man whose life had become unexpectedly entwined with mine.
"We'll handle the business threat," I said, the confident tone one I'd used in countless boardroom crises. "Michael is already implementing countermeasures. Harris may have money, but I have decades of business relationships that won't be easily severed by his machinations."
Connor nodded, but his eyes drifted to the butterfly bandage on his arm. He touched it gently, his expression haunted. "What happens when the trackers aren't enough?" he asked, voicing the fear that had been lurking beneath the surface ofour conversation. "Harris found me once. He nearly found me again today. What happens when technology and security details aren't enough to stop him?"
The question hung between us, honest and frightening in its implications. I could have offered platitudes, reassurances about top-notch security and the extensive resources at my disposal. But Connor deserved better than comforting lies.
"Then we fight," I said simply, pulling him closer until our foreheads touched, my voice dropping to a whisper meant only for him. "Together."
His breath hitched slightly at the contact, his hand coming up to rest on my shoulder. "You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple," I insisted. "Not easy, but simple. Harris wants to take what's mine. I won't let him."
Connor's lips curved into the ghost of a smile. "There's that possessive streak again. 'What's mine.'"
"Does it bother you?" I asked, genuinely curious. After what his family had done, after being treated like property, I wouldn't have blamed him for rejecting any hint of possession, even the protective kind.
"It should," he admitted, his fingers tracing a pattern on my shoulder. "But it doesn't. Not from you."
