The Blackburn Tower was a monolith of glass and steel that seemed to pierce the sky. Standing at the base, Daniella felt like an ant.
She clutched her portfolio to her chest. The security guards in the lobby didn't smile. They scanned her ID, her bag, her person. Their eyes lingered on her cheap shoes.
"45th floor," the receptionist said, handing her a visitor pass. "Do not wander."
The elevator ride was smooth and fast. Her ears popped.
When the doors opened, a man in a grey suit was waiting. "Miss Diaz. I'm Arthur Doyle. Follow me. You have fifteen minutes."
He led her down a corridor that smelled of lemon polish and money. He pushed open a set of double doors.
The boardroom was cavernous. A black walnut table stretched the length of the room, polished to a mirror shine.
At the far end, a high-backed leather chair faced the window, looking out over the Hudson River.
Daniella walked in. Her heels made a dull thud on the carpet. Her heart was beating so hard she could hear it in her ears.
"Mr. Blackburn," she said. She projected her voice, trying to sound like the CEO she wanted to be, not the desperate daughter she was. "I'm Daniella Diaz."
The chair didn't move. Five seconds of silence stretched into ten.
"Begin," a voice said from behind the chair. It was deep, muffled slightly by the leather.
Daniella fumbled with the connector for her laptop. She got the projector working. She started her pitch.
"Diaz Manufacturing has the most efficient logistics network in the Bronx. With a capital injection, we can upgrade to full automation..."
She spoke for ten minutes. Her throat was dry. The man hadn't said a word.
"...and that is why this bridge loan is a secure investment."
"Your data model is five years old," the voice interrupted. "And you omitted the largest liability on your books-the malicious litigation from Xander Yates."
Daniella froze. "That is a personal matter. It won't affect the company."
"In my world, there are no personal matters. Only risk coefficients."
The chair began to turn. Slowly.
Daniella held her breath. She expected a balding man. Maybe someone with cruel eyes.
The chair faced her.
The laser pointer dropped from her hand and clattered onto the table.
Grey eyes. Sharp jaw. The face that had hovered over hers in the dark.
Crockett Blackburn leaned back, steeping his fingers. A smirk played on his lips.
"Surprised?" he asked.
Daniella's brain short-circuited. The penthouse. The lie she told Xander. The USB.
"You..." She pointed a shaking finger. "You are..."
"Crockett Blackburn," he finished for her. "The man whose name you borrowed."
Heat rushed up her neck, turning her face crimson. She had slept with him. She had lied to his face about him.
She took a step back. "I... I didn't know. I'm sorry."
She turned to flee.
"Sit down," Crockett said. He didn't shout. He didn't have to. The command was absolute.
Daniella stopped.
"We haven't finished our business," he said. "Unless you want to go back and beg Yates for mercy?"
She turned back slowly. She pulled out a chair and sat. Her legs were trembling.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"I want to see if you're worth the investment," he said. "Or if you're just a liability."
