Page 146 of Stolen Harmony
I crossed the room, letting the gravity between us pull me closer. Rowan looked up, and I saw the hope and fear tangled together in his eyes. Before he could say another word, I cupped his cheek in my palm and kissed him—slow, deliberate, letting everything I couldn’t say out loud pour into the space between us. His hand found my wrist, holding me steady, grounding me in a way nothing else could.
When I pulled back, he smiled—a real one, small but shining through the worry. “Come back to me,” he whispered.
“Always,” I promised, brushing my thumb along his jaw. “No matter what.”
The address my lawyer had given me led to one of those private clubs that existed in the spaces between legitimate business and actual power.
Victor was holding court in the main dining room when I arrived, surrounded by men who treated politics like a blood sport and human beings like chess pieces. He looked exactly like what he was: a predator dressed in expensive clothes, charming and dangerous and completely convinced of his own invincibility.
The doorman hesitated when I gave my name, but my reputation preceded me. In certain circles, the Grant name stillcarried weight, even if I'd spent years trying to distance myself from what it represented.
I waited in the bar, nursing a whiskey I didn't want, watching Victor through the archway that separated the two rooms. He was in his element here, animated and confident, telling some story that had his audience laughing at all the right moments.
It would have been easy to hate him if I hadn't understood him so completely. Victor had always needed to be the smartest person in the room, the one with the most information, the most leverage, the most control. It wasn't enough for him to win; everyone else had to lose.
“Mr. Grant?”
I turned to find a young woman in an expensive suit, probably Victor's assistant.
“Your brother asked me to tell you he'll be with you shortly. He's just finishing up with some colleagues.”
“I'll wait.”
She nodded and disappeared back into the dining room, probably to deliver the message that I'd arrived and was ready to play whatever game Victor thought he was controlling.
Twenty minutes later, he appeared in the bar, still wearing that satisfied smile that had made me want to hit him since we were children.
“Elias. This is unexpected. I thought you were playing house with your little pet.”
The casual cruelty of it, the way he reduced Rowan to an object of possession, sent anger flooding through my system. But I'd come here for a reason, and losing my temper would only give Victor more ammunition.
“We need to talk,” I said, finishing my whiskey and standing up. “Privately.”
“Of course. There's a quiet room upstairs. Perfect for... family discussions.”
He led me through corridors lined with portraits of dead white men who'd probably built their fortunes on other people's misery, up a staircase that creaked with the weight of history and accumulated sins.
The room he chose was small and windowless, furnished with heavy leather furniture that was designed to intimidate rather than comfort. Victor settled into one of the chairs like he was claiming a throne.
“So,” he said, pouring himself a drink from the crystal decanter on the side table. “What brings you all the way here? Finally ready to discuss reasonable terms for ending this unpleasant business?”
“Actually, I'm here to discuss your resignation.”
Victor laughed, a sound like breaking glass. “My resignation from what, exactly?”
“Everything. The town council, the development board, every position of influence you've managed to worm your way into over the years.”
“And why would I do that?”
I reached into my jacket and pulled out the manila folder my lawyer had prepared and set it on the table between us.
“Because if you don't, this goes public. All of it. The financial irregularities in the development funds, the questionable contracts with companies you have undisclosed interests in, the bribes disguised as campaign contributions.”
Victor's smile faltered for the first time since I'd arrived. He reached for the folder, but I placed my hand on top of it, keeping it closed.
“And that's just the financial crimes,” I continued. “We haven't even gotten to the personal ones yet.”
“What personal ones?”
