She’s stunned.
Not speechless—not quite—but close. Like she doesn’t know whether to punch me or laugh. She’s still holding Ariana’s hand, like she’s ready to shield her from every storm in this room.
I wonder what it would take for her to believe that maybe this time… she doesn’t have to.
That maybe I’m the storm.
And I’m choosing her.
Mr. Kensington’s face is a shade of red I’ve only ever seen on men who realize they’re losing control.
I give him a cold, measured look.
“Have the contract rewritten,” I say. “The agreement now includes Sabrina. If you want access to Blackwell diamonds, get it done. Tonight.”
He opens his mouth like he wants to protest again, but I step in closer.
“I don’t bluff,” I say quietly.
Then I turn on my heel, ignoring Celeste’s muttering, Ariana’s stunned silence, and Sabrina’s smirk and walk out onto the terrace.
The night air hits like a reset.
I reach into my inside jacket pocket, pull out my phone, and call the one man whose opinion actually matters in all of this.
My father answers on the second ring.
“Langston.”
“Hey. I’ve made a change to the Kensington arrangement.”
There’s a pause. I can almost hear him straightening in his chair, wherever he is—probably sipping brandy and reading the financials from Tokyo.
“Change?” he echoes.
“They presented the younger daughter. Ariana.”
“I know. That was the agreement.”
“Well,” I say, “it’s not anymore.”
Another pause.
“I chose the older daughter,” I continue. “Sabrina.”
“Explain.”
“She’s smarter. Fierce. Protective of the younger one. She’s not involved in the family business, but she sees through them. She’s not what they wanted me to choose, but she’s what I want. And I believe she’s better for us in the long run.”
Silence.
Then a low breath.
“Is there a risk?”
“There’s always a risk,” I say. “But she’s not deadweight. She’s fire. And if I can get her on board, she’ll be a storm in our corner, not theirs.”
A beat passes.
