The merger announcement came just days after the mysterious (and suspiciously well-timed?) death of Marcus Montgomery and the even more shocking “retirement” of Craig Calloway. Coincidence? We think not.
Out with the old guard and enter the heirs.
Paxton Calloway, now officially crowned CEO of Calloway Enterprises, is wasting no time stepping into the spotlight. Sources say he’s bringing a “younger, slicker” image to the table. And let’s be honest, the man wears a power suit like it’s custom stitched.
Meanwhile,Roman Montgomery—yes,thatRoman, the one we all thought was dead until his return from the grave—is to take the reins of the Montgomery side of the empire.
The exact details of #WayMont are still under lock and key, but one thing’s for sure: Rosebrook Falls isn’t ready for what’s coming.
You heard it here first.
#WayMontRises #FromEnemiesToAllies #NextGenTakeover #CorporateTea #RagExclusive
Chapter 5
Genevieve
The only thing worse than sharing Art with Lance Calloway is sharing air.
His presence hangs in a room like humidity,existingin my space.
The same way he always seems to be doing.
It’s infuriating.
The Round Table is half-full tonight, mostly regulars, and my eyes reflexively find Lance across the bar. He’s scowling in the corner booth with his jaw tight and his shoulders tense, same as always. Even more so, because his siblings are here like I manifested them by bringing them up.
Well…two of them, anyway.
Juliette and Alex Calloway.
A light brown palm slaps against the bar top, and I jolt, coming face-to-face with a more familiar regular, Merrick Carter.
“Daydreaming again, Gin?”
“You know me.”
“Another round for the table,” he drawls, eyes a little too glassy to pass for sober. “Get it? Round…table?”
“Fairly confident that’s not what the name means, Merrick.”
“Semantics, schmemantics.”
I glance down at his side, knowing damn well what’s under his crisp black tee is a healing bullet wound he got on the Verona University campus. “You sure you should be throwing back another one?”
“You know what they say.”
“Do I?” I grab two pint glasses and flip them under the taps.
“No rest for the wicked.”
“And you’re the wicked one in this scenario?”
“Worse. I survived being shot, which means I’m immortal.” He presses a hand to his chest. “And all immortal beings eventually fall into wickedness.”
I laugh. “So you’ve learned nothing, then.”
“Oh, I’ve learned,” he says, tapping his temple. “I’ve learned when you cheat death, you get to drink for free.”
