Page 42 of Candy Cane Chains

I slide my free hand up her back, encouraging her to continue. Her breath comes faster as she leans closer.

"The Hamilton development deal," she murmurs. "He took kickbacks from the contractors. And Rachel Peterson - I'm pretty sure he's been sleeping with her for months now that I think about it. Her husband's on the board."

"Interesting timing with the Hamilton project failing," I say into the phone. "Those construction delays must have cost the investors millions. I wonder what Rachel Peterson's husband would say about your... involvement."

Travis's breathing turns ragged. "How did you-"

"Oh, and speaking of investors." Ivy's fingers trace patterns on my chest as she shares another secret. "Check who funded the Miami restaurant venture. Three married women, all wives of his father's business partners."

"Your restaurant venture was particularly creative," I continue, letting ice coat each word. "Though I doubt those investors' husbands would appreciate how you... secured their wives' capital contributions."

"You can't prove any of that." But Travis's voice wavers.

Ivy straightens in my lap, her eyes bright with satisfaction. "The client list," she breathes against my neck. "The ones he poached from his father's firm. He violated their non-compete agreements."

"And then there's the matter of your father's client list." I feel Ivy's smile against my skin as I twist the knife. "Breach of contract is such an ugly thing in our circles."

The line goes dead. Ivy pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, triumph written across her features. I've never seen anything more beautiful than her in this moment, helping me systematically destroy the man who tried to own her.

I keep one arm locked around Ivy as I dial the first number with my free hand. She shifts in my lap, watching the computer screen where I've pulled up Travis's financial records.

"Mr. Peterson? Julian Kane. We need to discuss your wife's investment with a certain stock broker."

Ivy's fingers trace along my forearm as I detail Rachel Peterson's indiscretions to her husband. Her breath catches when I open a new window showing Travis's accounts hemorrhaging money as Peterson initiates an immediate withdrawal of funds.

"The construction delays were deliberate," I tell the next board member, Ivy's intel guiding each calculated strike. "You'llfind the kickback payments documented under 'consulting fees.'"

She presses closer as three more board members pull their backing. Travis's empire bleeds red across my screen - stocks plummeting, credit lines frozen, reputation in tatters.

"The charitable foundation's books are particularly interesting," I inform his father's attorney. Ivy's nails dig into my shoulder, excitement written across her face, as she watches the man's offshore accounts get flagged for investigation.

Each call strips away another layer of Travis's carefully constructed facade. Ivy squirms against me when his father's firm says he'll take legal action over the stolen client list. Her lips part as she watches his credit score crater in real time.

"Last one," I murmur against her hair, dialing Travis's private banker. "I have evidence of fraudulent activity you'll want to review."

Ivy's breath comes faster as his accounts freeze one by one. Red warning notices flash across the screen - margin calls, loan defaults, frozen assets. Years of corruption and entitlement crashing down in minutes.

She shifts restlessly in my lap while Travis's world implodes, his carefully hidden sins dragged into the light. Each piece of leverage she provided becomes another nail in his coffin. The power of watching him fall apart has her practically vibrating with tension against me.

"That's all of them," I say, ending the final call. Ivy stares at the destruction displayed across my monitor - Travis's empire reduced to smoking ruins in under an hour.

I notice Ivy's quickened breaths, the way she squirms in my lap with each devastating blow we land on Travis. My lips brush her ear. "Look at you, getting excited by all this violence."

She shivers against me. "I'm not-"

"Don't lie." I trace my fingers up her spine. "Your pulse is racing. Your breathing's uneven. You love watching him burn."

"That's not-" She swallows hard as another account freezes on screen. "This isn't violence."

"No?" My grin turns predatory as I grip her hip tighter. "We just systematically dismantled everything he built. Stripped away his money, his reputation, his future. That's its own kind of violence, sweetheart. And you're practically purring from it."

Her hands clench against my chest. "Financial ruin isn't the same as physical violence."

"You think there's a difference?" I catch her chin, making her meet my gaze. "The way you react to both..." I slide my other hand up her thigh. "We should test that theory. See how you respond to the more... hands-on approach."

She tries to look away but I hold her still, seeing the flush blooming across her cheeks. Interesting. "Your darkness matches mine perfectly. The sooner you accept that, the more fun we'll have exploring it together."

Her pupils dilate at my words, breath catching. I can feel her pulse thundering under my fingers where they rest against her throat.

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