The leather chair felt like it was made of needles. Daniella sat rigid, her hands clasped on the table to hide their shaking.
Crockett opened the folder she had provided. His fingers were long, elegant. Daniella watched them flip the page, and an unwanted memory of those fingers on her skin flashed through her mind. She bit the inside of her cheek.
"Back to the point," Crockett said, tapping the paper. "Your factory is bordering on bankruptcy. Why should I pour water into a leaking bucket?"
Daniella took a breath. She forced herself to look at his tie, not his eyes. "Because we have the best skilled labor in the borough. If we can just-"
She reached for her own copy of the file. Her elbow knocked her purse. It tipped over.
A single piece of paper fluttered out. It drifted through the air and landed on the carpet, right at Crockett's feet.
They both looked.
It was the printout of her self-documented injury report. The itemized list was clear: Digital Photographs - Soft Tissue Contusion, Dated.
Daniella lunged for it.
Crockett was faster. He snatched the paper up.
He read it. His expression shifted. The smirk vanished, replaced by something darker.
"Soft tissue contusion?" He read the words out loud. His eyes snapped to her wrist, where the faint yellow bruise from Xander was visible under her sleeve.
"It's none of your business," Daniella said, snatching the paper from him. She crumpled it into a ball.
"If I caused that..." Crockett started, his voice devoid of emotion, "I will cover the medical costs."
"It wasn't you!" Daniella snapped. Her face was burning. "It's old."
He ignored her, his gaze calculating. "A prudent choice, documenting it yourself. But Yates's uncle is the DA. This report is useless without leverage."
Daniella felt a sharp sting in her chest. To him, her assault was just another piece on a chessboard. An accounting error.
"Mr. Blackburn, can we stick to business?" she hissed.
"This is business," he said. He stood up. He walked around the long table.
Daniella wanted to run, but she was glued to the chair.
He stopped behind her. He placed his hands on the armrests of her chair, boxing her in. She could smell him-cedar and power.
"You want this money, Miss Diaz. But I see no collateral."
He leaned down. His breath ghosted over her ear.
"The land is frozen by the bank," he whispered. "What do you have left? I know about the encrypted ledger you took when you broke your NDA. That is the only asset you possess that interests me."
Daniella's spine stiffened. She stood up abruptly, shoving the chair back. It hit his legs, but he didn't budge.
She turned to face him, inches apart. "If you think I'm going to trade my only insurance policy for a loan, you are mistaken."
She waited for him to get angry. To throw her out.
Instead, the darkness in his eyes cleared. He looked... impressed.
"Good," he said. He straightened his tie. "I don't do business with fools. You passed."
Daniella blinked. "What?"
"If you had handed it over, security would be escorting you out right now." He walked back to his chair and sat down. "Now. Let's talk about the real terms."
Daniella felt like she had whiplash. The man was a psychopath.
"What terms?" she asked warily.
"I want 51% controlling interest in Diaz Manufacturing," he said. "And I want you."
"Excuse me?"
"As my personal legal counsel," he clarified. "You're a former Senior Counsel. You know the law, but you're hungry enough to bend it. I need that."
"Why me?"
"Because you hate Xander Yates," Crockett said. "And his backer, Inga Andrews, is a mutual problem. I have a use for that hate."
