"And what about your vigilante activities?" I asked directly. "How do they fit into the new Lucky Losers corporate structure?"
A charged silence descended over the table. Boone shifted in his seat, while Ash studied the rim of his wine glass.
"They don't," Xavier answered flatly. "The company remains clean of our extracurricular activities. That firewall stands absolute and non-negotiable."
"Noted." I took a sip of wine. The separation would protect our Pentagon contracts, contain corporate liability, and minimize criminal exposure. It was the perfect firewall between worlds. "Macau preparations?"
"On schedule," Xavier replied, allowing the subject to change. "Rendezvous at midnight at the private airfield. Two teams, as discussed."
"I'll be observing, not leading," I noted. "Consider it your first official operation as CEO-designate."
Xander raised their glass in a mock toast. "To the new boss, same as the old boss, but with better hair."
"And fewer bodies in his past," Xion added quietly. "So far."
"The night is young," Xavier replied through the ghost of a smile.
The conversation shifted as platters circulated around the table. Despite the weight of our discussion, the meal provided a necessary rhythm to the evening, transforming a strategy session into something resembling a family dinner.
Maxime had outdone himself with the food. Wine glasses gleamed under the chandelier light, each selection paired flawlessly with each course. The entire meal operated as a backdrop to the negotiation unfolding at my table, a testament to Maxime's ability to create order from chaos. He'd done the same with Lucky Losers for years.
Boone leaned forward after his first bite. "My grandma would've loved this. She always said you can tell a lot about a man by how he treats food." His eyes met mine across the table. "She'd say a man who takes time with what feeds his family has priorities worth respecting."
My gaze lingered on Maxime's hands as he served dessert. Those elegant fingers had signed billion-dollar contracts, arranged assassinations, and traced the scars on my body in darkness. Now they moved among delicate dessert plates. I pictured those same hands bound above his head, trembling as I claimed every inch of him. Soon.
"Xavier," I said, redirecting the conversation. "You mentioned board restructuring. Who stays? Who goes?"
"Two board members remain trustworthy," Xavier replied, his fingers tapping once against the tablecloth. "Five need replacement immediately."
"And the rest?" I asked.
"On probation," he answered coolly. "They'll be evaluated based on their responses to the transition."
Leo adjusted his glasses. "We've already drafted the SEC filings for the leadership change. The language positions this as the natural culmination of a long-planned succession strategy." He glanced at Xavier. “They’re ready to file at your direction.”
My eyebrows rose. "You moved pieces before I made my decision public."
"I calculated probabilities," Xavier replied without apology. "This outcome became inevitable the moment Shaw deployed the Banshee in Oklahoma."
Maxime refilled wine glasses. The dance of service appeared effortless, though I knew it came only through decades of calculation. His sleeve rode up slightly as he leaned across the table, revealing the edge of a bruise I'd left on his wrist threenights ago. The sight sent hunger lancing through me, sharp and sudden. Our eyes met briefly.
"Back to the Macau operation," Xavier said, accepting the wine from Maxime with a nod. "Once the operations are complete, we’ll need to take a hard look at security in the tower."
I frowned. “Commander Reid’s expertise—”
“Is not in question,” Xavier said. “But he’s been with the company for a long time. Comfortably. Maybe too comfortably.”
Maxime frowned. “You’re not seriously going to fire him?”
“No, of course not.” Xavier took a sip of his wine before putting the glass down. “But maybe it’s time for him to get back to protecting assets in the field rather than guarding board rooms. His expertise is too valuable to keep locked up in the tower.”
“Have you spoken to Reid about this?” I asked cautiously.
“Not yet,” Xavier confirmed. “I wanted your opinion first.”
I exchanged a look with Maxime.
Maxime cleared his throat. “Reid is forty-eight years old, Xavier,” he said carefully.
