Page 25 of The SEAL's Duchess
As if.
She gave the smallest nod. “Matthew.” She lowered herself into the chair opposite, while George stayed on his feet, restless, as if his body couldn’t quite contain his nerves.
The storm outside scoured the glass, its low howl crawling beneath her skin. She couldn’t shake the thought of Ryder in that same storm, hauling strangers out of the dark. A man who ran headfirst into danger by choice.
And here she was, sitting across from a man with manicured hands and too-easy answers.
“Shall I tell her, or shall you?” Sinclair’s smile was all polish.
George sank into the couch, leaning forward, arms braced on his knees. “Matthew’s just shown me the scans from the Vega. They’ve found a new pocket. It’s rich, Ivy. It’s what we’ve beenwaiting for. This could save everything—our home, the estate, the families depending on us.”
“Indeed.” Sinclair’s voice was too smooth. “An opportunity we didn’t see coming. Confirmed in our latest seismic survey. And I wanted you to hear it first. The return could be significant.”
Ivy dragged a hand through her damp hair. “And this has only just come to your attention?”
Sinclair tipped his glass back, unbothered. “BlackRock carries out surveys regularly—it’s what we do. Sometimes the sea surprises us. This time, in the best possible way.”
“What about the environmental impact?” She rubbed the tender spot between her eyes. “Who’s been told?”
A glance flicked between Sinclair and George.
“That’s why Matthew is here,” George rushed in. “This pocket is new. As part of the established field, disclosure isn’t required. We can take over the rig and tap it. Make our money. But time?—”
“Is running out.” Sinclair uncrossed his legs and tugged at his pant leg with his fingers. “There are other investors sniffing around, of course. But you and your brother—you’re the right fit. That’s why I came to you first.”
George’s laced fingers whitened. “If we wait, the regulators will kill it. You know how they are—every delay, every new rule. We’ll lose our chance, Ivy.”
Ivy bit back the words crowding her tongue. There were other paths—slower, harder, but real. She’d been reading about the tidal projects in Cook Inlet, how the sea’s raw force could be harnessed without gutting the seabed. Energy for communities. Stability that didn’t rot the ground beneath their feet. But George wouldn’t want to hear that. Not tonight.
Her teeth met under pressure as she searched for a calm tone. “Those restrictions exist because people get hurt when they’re ignored.”
“I know. But what about the families?” George’s hands rose, placating. “The livelihoods tied to us? What happens to them if we turn this away?”
“The people who live here are just as dependent on how the oil is managed.” She held his panicked gaze. “We can’t sacrifice one for the other.”
“No one’s suggesting that, Ives.” George’s voice cracked with weariness. “The rig already has permission to drill.”
Ivy leaned back, fingers digging into the armrest. “How convenient,” she said evenly. “That a discovery like this surfaces just as we start asking about missing reports.”
George let out a shaky breath instead of a laugh, his shoulders high against his neck. “Forty million barrels, Ivy. That’s enough to save everything. Don’t you see? It could keep Lambourne afloat for decades.” His eyes shone, half-hopeful, half-desperate.
“Strange that none of the baseline surveys flagged an anomaly of that size.” Her heart raced. “A pocket that rich doesn’t just hide in plain sight.”
Sinclair’s drink paused halfway to his mouth. The silence that followed said more than his rehearsed grin ever could. He smoothed it over with a chuckle. “Technology improves. Equipment catches things we didn’t before. That’s progress.”
The storm shook the windows, sending a deep shudder through the walls, as if the whole room were straining to hold. The whiskey smell seemed thicker now, cloying, Sinclair’s voice too glossy against the wild outside.
George shifted, restless. “Ivy, don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
She ignored him, heartbeat regular now. “I’m sure BlackRock won’t mind sharing the full geological scans. All of them. Not summaries. Not projections. The raw data.”
Silence pulsed through the room.
Sinclair’s smile stayed fixed, but his dark eyes tracked her like a shark. “You’re asking the right questions, Lady Ivy. Careful, though—questions have a way of scaring off opportunity.”
The whisky-sweet air nipped the back of her throat.
Ryder’s voice echoed—What does your gut tell you?
