Page 51 of Outcast’s Vow

I’m saved by my phone. I have the ringer off except for one contact, so I know who it is before I even check the screen.

“This is someone who works for me,” I tell Sylvie. “I’ve made it clear I’m here with you and that I’m not to be disturbed, so they wouldn’t be calling unless it was an emergency.”

She nods.

“Go. Take it.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” I say as I stand.

My wife smiles.

“I’ll hold you to it.”

I head to the corner of the chalet balcony. The silhouette of the mountains looms high in the night sky.

“This better be important,” I say into the phone. “Very fucking important.”

It’s my assistant back in New York on the other end.

“Sorry, boss, but I’ve got news.”

I know what it’s about before he even has a chance to say it.

“The federal contract?” I ask.

“Yep.”

“How bad?”

“Very.”

“Run through it all,” I say. “What’s happening?”

My assistant explains, and it is the worst-case scenario, just as I feared. I need approval from the government committee that oversees the funding for cybersecurity, but the senator who runs it has blocked it.

The approval is stone cold dead.

Benjamin Whitmore is the senator, an old bastard who has taken a dislike to a young buck like me. He’s tied in with defense lobbyists from the big firms who would love to dismantle a fast-growing startup like mine, and it seems they’ve got to him before I could secure his blessing.

Damn.

I really thought this would pull through. I built my growth plan around getting it. Investor confidence hinges on approval. Not getting this government contract will ruin my company.

Hell, it’ll ruin me. It’ll kick me out of the rooms I have spent years of effort forcing myself into.

And all because of one stodgy, hard-ass senator.

I end the call after my assistant clarifies everything, and I turn back toward Sylvie. She has no clue what’s going on, but if I fuck this up, then I lose everything.

Including her.

She drinks her wine and gazes at the stars above, not knowing how close I am running at the edge of a precipice.

There’s only one thing to do.

The chill air stings my lungs as I draw myself up. And then I call Senator Whitmore. The man is laughing before I even say hello.

“You’ve got balls to call me, son.”