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“You’re staring,” my mother observed dryly.

I turned back to her. “Your concern is noted but unnecessary. I know what I’m doing.”

“Do you?” She sipped her champagne delicately. “I’m not too sure about that, hun. This one’s different.”

“You’ve known her for all of five minutes,” I tossed back.

“I don’t need more. She’s not intimidated by you.” She took another sip of champagne. “That makes her either very smart or very foolish. Either way⁠—”

My mother’s words faded from my ears as I glanced at where Sutton stood once more and found her speaking with Bradley Sumpter. It was very obvious that it wasn’t a pleasant conversation and given the last time they were in a room together and the way he seemed to be talking to her, the fucker hadn’t learned his lesson.

“Excuse me, Mother. I need to handle something.”

“Of course you do. We’ll finish this conversation later.”

I moved through the crowd with a singular purpose to the point where I barely acknowledged the greetings from people who tried to catch my attention. My eyes were locked in on them and the only thought running through my mind was to get him away from her right the fuck now. The sight of Bradley standing too close to Sutton, his body language aggressive and entitled, ignited something primal in me. I’d warned him once about overstepping. Clearly, he hadn’t taken that warning seriously enough.

When I reached them, I caught the tail end of Bradley’s statement: “—just because Ashcroft has taken an interest in you doesn’t mean⁠—”

“Bradley,” I said, my voice cutting through whatever bullshit he was spewing. “A word.”

His head snapped toward me, and I watched the color drain from his face. Good. At least he had enough sense to recognize when he was in danger, even if he didn’t know just how much he was in.

“Mr. Ashcroft, I was just⁠—”

“Outside. Now.” I kept my tone even to not give a single thing away. It was the same voice I used when ordering executions in boardrooms—calm, measured, and absolutely final.

I turned to Sutton, whose expression remained impressively neutral despite the tension. “Excuse us for a moment.”

Her eyes met mine and I could see the questions swirling in them. But she kept them to herself. “Of course,” she said.

I placed my hand on Bradley’s shoulder, gripping just hard enough to make him wince. I steered him through the crowd, nodding politely to acquaintances as we passed, maintaining the illusion that everything was fine when my blood was boiling under the surface. My mother caught my eye as we moved toward the exit. I’d deal with her later.

The service corridor outside was dimly lit and empty—exactly what I needed. I released Bradley with enough force to make him stumble against the wall.

“What did I tell you about your interactions with Ms. Prescott?” I asked, straightening my cufflinks.

Bradley’s attempt at composure was pathetic. “Sir, I was simply explaining company protocol⁠—”

“You were undermining her authority. Again.” I stepped closer, watching him press himself against the wall like a cornered animal. “What exactly did you say to her?”

He swallowed hard. “Nothing inappropriate. Just that she shouldn’t expect special treatment because of her… connection to you.”

My hand shot out before I could even process the movement, gripping his throat and pinning him to the wall. I leaned in close enough to smell the fear radiating from him.

“What connection would that be, Bradley?” I asked softly.

“I… I just meant professionally,” he choked out.

“That wasn’t what you implied,” I said, maintaining my grip on his throat. “Choose your next words carefully.”

“I apologize,” he gasped, clawing weakly at my hand. “I misspoke.”

I studied him for a moment, noting how quickly his arrogance had dissolved into groveling. Fucking typical. Men like Bradley were all the same. Bold when they thought themselves protected, cowards when faced with real power.

“You seem to have difficulty understanding your position, Bradley,” I said, relaxing my grip just enough to allow him to breathe more easily. “Let me clarify it for you. You are expendable. Ms. Prescott is not.”

“Yes, sir,” he whispered.