She looked at him. His hair was slightly raked back, the beginnings of a shadow at his jaw. The kind of beauty that made her stomach tighten. No one watching him would’ve seen anything unusual. But she did. He was tired.
She reached up, put her hands on his shoulders. “What would help?”
His eyes moved over her face like he wasn’t sure if she meant it. “Something that’s not work.”
“Are you starving?”
“I could eat.”
“Let’s go down,” Bea suggested. “I’m sure the bar has something.”
Gage studied her for a beat, gaze sharpening. “Now?”
She could’ve told him to shower. Suggested they go to sleep. Or given him some advice about not trying to carry the world by himself.
But she didn’t. She looked at her man, and chose. “I’m dressed. You need a drink with your food. Let’s go.”
After a moment, he said, “Alright.”
She took his hand.
GAGE
The hotel bar had thinned, the atmosphere soft with murmurs and second rounds. His evening security, supplied by the London office, was stationed by the entrance. Bea’s additional security had gone home.
Across from him, Bea was watching as he finished off his steak.
His shoulders had started to loosen. The spines in his thoughts were easing. He was just starting to feel human again.
And then Cassian Montenegro walked in. Midnight suit, no tie, collar open. The usual thick-rimmed glasses, and the same quiet arrogance dressed up as intellect.
Gage knew he wasn’t just here for a drink.
“King.” A slow smile. “Glad I caught you.”
Gage didn’t move. “Did you come to drink, or to circle?”
Cassian’s mouth twitched. “Circle. Drinks come later.” His gaze drifted to Bea. Dropped. Took her in from her toes to her face. Long enough to provoke.
She didn’t fidget. Stayed silent. Gage saw the flash of surprise in Cassian’s expression at her composure.
Good girl.
Cassian turned back to him. “Tough night with the team?”
He didn’t take the bait. “You’re circling. So circle.”
Cassian obliged. “Heard your proposal’s still structured around fixed anchor ownership,” he said, tapping the table. “Admirable. But rigid.”
“It’s what the project needs,” Gage said flatly. “Stability.”
“Or it’s a leash. There’s a difference between protecting a legacy and clinging to control.”
“You mean selling.”
“Liquidating. Freedom to pivot. You hold on too tight, you choke the thing you’re trying to build.”
“And if you hand it off too early,” Gage reasoned, “it collapses before it matters.”
