Devon exchanged glances with Bryson, who shrugged. "Want me to come?"
"Please."
They approached Winston, who'd shed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his carefully maintained composure had frayed at the edges.
"What can we do for you?" Devon asked.
Winston glanced around, ensuring privacy before speaking. "I understand you've hired Emery."
"We have."
"Interesting choice." Winston's tone was neutral, but Devon heard judgment underneath. "Given her history."
"Her qualifications speak for themselves."
"Do they? Or did other factors influence your decision?" Winston's gaze was sharp, assessing.
"Her hiring was based purely on merit," Bryson said, his voice tight. "What's this about?"
"I'm curious about Stone Bridge's expansion plans. The premium market, authentication services, collector outreach—that's new territory for you." Winston's expression remained carefully blank. "Territory that could overlap significantly with Callaway interests."
"There's room for multiple players in the premium space," Devon said carefully. "We're not trying to edge you out." But what bothered him more was the idea that Winston was fishing for information—something that Devon and his family wasn’t willing to discuss with the competition.
"Aren't you?" Winston's mask cracked slightly. "My father spent years building relationships in that market. Now Stone Bridge is positioning itself as a major player, hiring someone with—questionable ethics aside—exactly the expertise needed to compete directly with us."
"Competition is healthy," Bryson pointed out.
"Competition is one thing. Predatory business practices are another." Winston's voice dropped. "I'm aware that Emery has contacts in auction houses and collector circles that took my father decades to cultivate. If she's using those relationships to benefit Stone Bridge at Callaway's expense..."
"She's doing nothing of the sort," Devon said, anger flaring. Winston had always been a bit of an asshole, but this was a new low, even for him. "And I resent the implication."
“That’s funny. Because from where I stand, this looks like opportunism disguised as compassion." Winston stepped closer. "You swoop in when she's vulnerable, offer her a job, and suddenly have access to every connection and piece of insider knowledge she gathered working for Harold Pemberton."
"That's not what happened."
"Then explain why someone so careful about business as you are would hire someone radioactive in the industry."
"Her ethics are impeccable," Bryson said, his voice carrying that deep tone he only used when someone had pushed him too far.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps you're too close to see clearly." Winston's gaze locked on Devon. "I hear you two have a personal relationship. That you've had one for months. Makes me wonder if your judgment is clouded by factors that have nothing to do with business."
Devon felt heat creep up his neck. "My personal life is none of your concern."
"It is when it affects business relationships in this valley. When it potentially damages Callaway interests." Winston straightened his tie, composure sliding back into place. "Consider this a courtesy warning. If Stone Bridge's expansion comes at Callaway's expense—if we lose clients or relationships because of your new hire—there will be consequences."
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a statement of fact." Winston's smile was about as stone-cold as an ice cube. "We're competitors. Always have been. But we've maintained a certain professional respect. Don't let poor judgment destroy that." He walked away before either of them could respond.
"What the hell was that?" Bryson asked.
"A shot across the bow." Devon watched Winston rejoin Callie and Monica. "He's worried about Emery. About what she brings to the table."
"Good. Let him worry." Bryson's expression had that hard edge their father had—untrusting, unwavering, and if someone took a shot at family, Bryson would crush them like bad fruit. "But I don't like the implications. That sounded like he's planning something."
Devon didn't respond, but unease coiled in his gut. Winston's warning had been specific, calculated. This wasn't grief talking or an emotional reaction to his father's death.
This was strategy.
