I focus on my father. On the slight curl of his shoulders. How the corner of his eye creases as if in a wince.
“Regrettably…” Raffael swirls his drink. “Both attempts have failed to convey the seriousness of the situation you’ve put us in. So we thought a joint intervention would be more effective.”
Anintervention? From a disgruntled, blacklisted client?
“Turn the boat around.” I don’t know how I keep the fury from my voice, but I do.
He takes another lazy sip. “Please understand that will not be happening.”
I exhale sharply, my pulse hammering as I scoff. “You’re taking hostages now?”
He shrugs, infuriatingly calm. “Seems so.”
My blood runs cold.
My father exhales a weary sigh.
“Dad?” The word cracks in my throat.
Still there’s nothing.
I step forward, needing a better view of his profile. “Dad.”
He hangs his head, his voice ragged. “I asked you to retract the statement, Isla.”
My heart clenches, his detachment, or maybe it’s shame, stripping my anger and forcing fear to take its place.
“I did warn you.” Raffael places his tumbler on the desk, the delicatethunkof glass on wood bearing the weight of an avalanche. “There’s been a longstanding agreement between CrossPoint and the Cavallo Group that you shouldn’t have messed with.”
“I don’t care what was negotiated in the past,” I snap. “No agreement is immune to ethics. If you’re not acting in our best interests, you don’t get to be our client.”
He holds my gaze. Patient. Perfect. “Unfortunately, this is exactly the kind of agreement that’s immune to ethics.”
I shake my head, refuting him, refutingallof it.
“Is this blackmail?” The question comes out breathy and brittle.
“No. This is business.” The calm in Raffael’s tone is sharpened by an edge of condescension. “Things work differently in the big leagues.”
My mind wars with the ridiculousness of the situation.
CrossPoint’s reputation is flawless. Squeaky clean. We’ve built a name on trust, transparency, and moral integrity. Whatever this is, I won’t be a part of it.
“Turn the boat around,” I demand. “Or I’ll call the cops.”
His eyes remain locked on mine, his chin arrogantly high, one brow raising as if to call my bluff.
I don’t make empty threats, asshole.
I raise my phone, unlock the screen, then stop breathing.
No bars. No cell service.
City skyscrapers flank the water on either side of us, so close I could wave to the tourists onshore. Yet there’s nothing. No means to contact the outside world.
Holy shit. Has he blocked the signal?
“You were saying?” he drawls.
