"Sign it or pack your desk into a cardboard box," Marcus said, shoving the revised contract into my ribs.
The managing partner of my firm didn't look me in the eye. His collar was damp with sweat.
"I resigned yesterday, Marcus." I pushed the paper away with two fingers. "Evan Hale bought my silence for three years. I'm done working as a punching bag for billionaire Alphas."
"You don't understand," Marcus hissed, checking the glass walls of his corner office. "Cross Holdings bought thirty percent of our equity before trading opened this morning. They deposited an eight-figure retainer on one condition."
My stomach tightened. "No."
"Yes. You manage their hostile takeover of Hale Biotech. You lead the transition team. You attend every strategy session at their headquarters."
"Sue me for breach of contract," I said, turning toward the door. "I'll take the penalty."
"There is no penalty clause, Nora! They bought out your non-compete. If you walk out that door, Damian Cross will file an injunction that freezes every personal asset you own before noon. Your bank accounts. Your apartment lease. Everything."
I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. The brass felt freezing against my skin.
"They can't legally do that," I said.
"They own the judge who signs the injunctions," Marcus whispered. "Get your tablet. The car is downstairs."
***
The forty-second floor of Cross Tower smelled like polished mahogany, chilled glass, and raw money.
Two armed security guards stepped aside without asking for identification when I reached the double frosted-glass doors of Boardroom A.
I gripped my leather folio tight against my ribs, pushed the heavy door open, and walked in.
The room went dead silent.
A massive black marble conference table dominated the center of the floor, flanked by twelve high-backed leather executive chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Hudson River.
All three Cross brothers were already there.
Adrian stood by the glass, his tailored jacket tossed over a credenza, dark ink showing beneath his rolled-up white sleeves. Luca leaned against the granite credenza, checking a platinum pocket watch with a sharp, predatory grin. And Damian sat at the head, dominating the entire space like an unmovable monolith.
The moment the latch clicked behind me, three heads snapped in my direction.
Their scents hit the air simultaneously. Heavy cedar from Damian, rain-slick sage from Adrian, and dark, burning spice from Luca. The blend rushed down my throat, making my pulse jump against my collarbone.
"You're late," Damian said. His deep voice vibrated through the floorboards.
"Ten o'clock was the scheduled start," I replied, checking my wrist. "It is nine fifty-nine. I'm early."
Luca tucked his watch away and pushed off the credenza. "She brought claws today. I told you she wouldn't roll over, Damian."
"Shut up, Luca," Adrian muttered, his hazel eyes tracking me as I walked toward the table. "You look tired, Nora."
"I spent half the night changing my phone number because your assistants wouldn't stop calling my private line," I said.
I picked a spot along the long side of the table, pulling out a black leather armchair and setting my digital tablet flat on the stone.
"Let's get the rules straight," I continued, keeping my voice clipped and clear. "I am here under legal coercion. I will handle the press messaging, the SEC disclosures, and the shareholder transition regarding Hale Biotech. Nothing else. The personal nonsense from yesterday does not enter this room."
None of them answered.
Luca had already crossed half the room. Adrian pushed off the window glass. Damian stood up from the head of the table, his chair scraping back.
The other seats around the table were littered with thick acquisition binders and tablet docks. Only one open chair remained directly to my left.
Adrian broke into a sprint first.
Luca lunged forward, his shoulder knocking against Adrian’s bicep.
"Out of my way," Luca snapped.
"Like hell," Adrian growled, shoving his brother back with a forearm. "I saw it first."
Before either of them could pull the chair out, a massive shadow fell over them both.
Damian’s heavy frame cut between them like an iron wedge.
*Clack.*
Three hands slammed down onto the black leather headrest at the exact same instant.
Damian’s broad palm locked over the center. Adrian’s tattooed fingers gripped the left edge hard enough to dent the padding. Luca’s right hand clamped over the right corner, his knuckles turning white.
Nobody moved.
The silence in the room stretched until it turned brittle.
"Move your hand, little brother," Damian ordered, his tone flat, dangerous, and low.
"You have your own seat at the head, Damian," Adrian replied through gritted teeth. "Go sit in it."
"I run this firm," Damian rumbled. "I sit where I want."
"She isn't the firm," Luca murmured, his dark eyes flashing with sharp defiance as he leaned his weight into the leather. "And you don't own her. Remove your hand, or I'll break your fingers."
"Try it," Damian said softly.
The air turned instantly toxic.
Their presence expanded outward like a shockwave. Cedar, sage, and burning spice crashed against each other, thickening the room until my lungs burned. The desk trembled under the physical tension vibrating between the three of them.
They stood chest to chest, shoulders locked, glaring at each other like wolves circling fresh meat in the snow.
Men who controlled global logistics, defense contracts, and private equity funds. Men whose names moved stock markets with a single sentence.
Fighting like stray dogs over a piece of office furniture.
I watched them without blinking. My pulse had steadied completely.
"This is going to be a nightmare," I said aloud.
Damian’s jaw tightened. "Nora, stay where you are."
"Don't command her," Adrian snapped, his grip tightening until the leather creaked. "You're suffocating her with your scent."
"Look who's talking," Luca scoffed, his chest heaving against Adrian's shoulder. "Your sage is choking the room. Back off, Adrian."
"Neither of you is touching this chair," Damian growled, his Alpha command flaring with enough weight to rattle the windowpanes.
I didn't scream. I didn't cry out.
Instead, I reached down, picked up my tablet, and grabbed my pen.
I pushed my own chair back into the table with a soft click.
Then I turned my back on all three of them.
"Nora?" Luca called out, his voice cracking with sudden surprise.
I didn't answer.
In the far corner of the boardroom, next to the audio-visual cart and the projector stand, sat a plain, gray metal folding chair. It was left behind by the IT department, scratched and utterly devoid of status.
I picked it up, carried it three paces into the open space near the front presentation display, and snapped the legs open against the carpet with a sharp snap.
I sat down.
I crossed one leg over the other, balanced the tablet on my knee, and tapped the screen to wake it up.
The three brothers froze.
Their hands were still glued to the high-backed leather chair, their bodies tangled together in an absurd knot of brute force and territorial posturing.
Damian stared at me, his silver eyes wide with utter disbelief. Luca’s jaw slackened. Adrian looked down at the empty spot where I had just been sitting, then over at me in the corner, his mouth twitching as if he couldn't decide whether to curse or laugh.
"Well?" I asked, looking up from my screen. "Are you three going to keep fondling that chair, or do you want to review Hale Biotech's debt covenants?"
Silence hung heavy over the room.
Damian slowly took his hand off the leather. Adrian let go next, rubbing his bruised knuckles. Luca dropped his arm, his easy smirk returning, though a sharp streak of embarrassment flushed the high ridges of his cheekbones.
"Hale's short-term liquidity is worse than we estimated," Damian said, clearing his throat as he straightened his tie. His voice lacked its earlier bite.
"I know," I said, tapping a document on my screen. "Which is why Serena Vance's family is pulling out their collateral by noon."
Adrian stepped away from the table, his eyes locked on me with raw, intense curiosity. "How do you know that?"
"Because Serena just texted me," I replied, holding up my phone. "And she wants to cut a deal with the woman Evan called a delusional stalker."
