(Casey’s POV)
_________
The glass doors of my office building yawned open like the jaws of sothing ancient and waiting—welcoming ho or daring to fight. I stepped inside with the slow, deliberate confidence of a woman who’d sharpened her heels on corporate battlegrounds. This wasn’t my first ti doing this, so I definitely knew my way around! Each click-clack across the marble lobby was a declaration of war. A war that I was definitely going to win, no matter what.
This morning wasn’t about politeness or diplomacy. I did all that when I chose to ignore everything she did. And what did it get ? A fucking lawsuit! It wasn’t about soothing egos or playing nice anymore. Today was about precision. Power. Vengeance—disguised as professionalism, of course. I’d dressed for it, too—navy blue suit tailored so perfectly it could cut glass, paired with a blood-red lip and a stare colder than a January frost in Manhattan.
My target? Catherine Langdon. Florist by trade. Drama queen by hobby. And as of last night, my newest legal opponent.
She thought I was going to fold. She thought I’d crumble under the weight of her lawsuit, that I’d retreat with my tail between my legs just because she’d been slighted—because I’d rejected her wilting bouquets for Kira’s rehearsal dinner. She hadn’t cared that the roses were browning at the edges, or that half the peonies looked like they’d survived a hurricane. No, Catherine was too busy dreaming of headlines and photo ops to bother with quality.
But I was gonna get one thing straight through her thick skull. I didn’t build one of the most elite event-planning companies in the Valley by letting people like her walk over . I didn’t rise through years of chaos, backstabbing, budget cuts, and high-profile ltdowns by being the woman who blinked first.
I earned my crown by surviving firestorms and dancing on ruins. And if Catherine wanted a war, I was ready to give it all to her and burn her entire business down!
The lobby staff gave polite nods as I passed, though most knew better than to interrupt when I was on a mission. The air was chilled and still like the building itself was holding its breath. Even the artwork along the walls—a modern mix of abstract storms and sharp geotry—seed to pulse with tension.
Today wasn’t about saving face. It was about making Catherine wish she’d stuck to centerpieces and flower crowns. Because by the ti I was finished, her little sar campaign would look like a failed school project. She’d learn exactly why no one plays dirty with Beacon Studios. Or with .
Especially .
I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor. As the doors slid shut, I caught my reflection in the mirrored panel—poised, calm, lethal.
"Ga on," I whispered, barely audible over the hum of the rising elevator.
The elevator ride up was painfully slow, and I swear the elevator music was taunting . Who plays "Kiss from a Rose" on a morning like this? The doors finally slid open to the top floor, revealing a flurry of assistants, designers, and stylists, all dodging out of my way like a school of fish sensing the presence of a shark.
Liam was already waiting outside the conference room, tablet in hand, curly mop of hair sohow both stylish and chaotic—kind of like his personality. He grinned when he saw .
"Looking like a legal goddess of vengeance," he announced, offering a to-go cup of my favorite coffee. "Skim latte, two pumps vanilla, one shot of justice."
"Thanks," I muttered, taking a grateful sip.
Inside the glass-walled conference room, my legal team was already seated and ready. llissa, in her signature all-black outfit and no-nonsense bun, gave a curt nod. She was a woman of few words but deadly precision. Sitting beside her was Adam—charming, boyish, with a permanent five o’clock shadow and the kind of jawline you only see in courtroom dramas.
"You look like you’re about to gut soone," Adam said, half-impressed, half-concerned.
"That’s the energy I’m going for," I replied as I slid into my seat.
llissa tapped her tablet and brought up a series of docunts on the sleek glass screen embedded into the table. "We’ve gone through Catherine’s claims. It’s nonsense."
"Complete nonsense," Adam echoed. "Her entire argunt hinges on emotional damage caused by her ’loss of opportunity’ and supposed defamation. But our receipts, emails, and tistamped photos show her flowers were defective—bruised petals, and moldy stems. If you’d used them, the press would’ve crucified you."
"And they would’ve been right," I said.
"Exactly," llissa continued. "You acted within your rights, per the contractual clauses around product quality and brand representation. Honestly, if anyone has grounds to sue, it’s you."
"I’ve always known that. Which was why I tried to let her go quietly. Now, this bitch is making regret that. However, on what grounds do I have to sue? As in, in legal speak?" I asked.
"Selling defective goods, breach of trust, endangernt of brand equity. You na it," Adam said with a grin. "There are so many ways this can be spun that by the ti we’re done, Catherine won’t know the right way up."
I leaned back in my chair, eyes narrowing. "So let’s do it. Let’s hit her with our own lawsuit."
Adam held up a finger. "There’s one issue."
I bunched my fingers tightly in anger, "Oh co on! You just said I have grounds for a suit!"
"Relax, okay?" llissa nodded. "While you have enough grounds, we have cause to believe that Catherine wants this to go to court. She’s betting on a scandal—one that breaks just before the wedding. If your reputation takes even a minor -or major- hit, it could trickle into public opinion on the whole event."
"She wants the stink," Adam added. "The headlines. ’Casey Dunlop Bride Drama.’ That sort of ss."
I exhaled through my nose. "So we don’t give her that. What’s our play?"
"We go the quiet route," llissa said. "Hit her with multiple infractions behind the scenes. Demand an out-of-court settlent. She’ll have to pay—financially and legally. Then, once the wedding’s over..."
"We leak it," Adam finished, smirking. "Let the dia chew on the fact that she got slapped down. Quiet justice now. Loud karma later. It would all be done in a way to let people know that you’re not to be ssed with in any way. Anyone who tries that would have to co correct."
I smiled, finally. "Do it. Draft the counter. I want the update before lunchti. Let’s know where we’re headed, okay?"
As llissa and Adam gathered their files, Liam waltzed in dramatically, waving his tablet like it was a fan.
"Before you go down your glorious warpath, my liege," he said, bowing slightly, "your royal itinerary awaits."
The lawyers left with curt nods, and I turned to Liam. "Talk to ."
He scrolled through his screen. "After our legal gladiator match, you have back-to-back calls with the design team. Then a cake tasting—don’t worry, I made sure they bring the raspberry truffle you like. And after that, you were scheduled to have a touch base with Kira."
I blinked. "Was?"
"She’s... unreachable," he said, dropping the humor. "I’ve called her twice. No answer. Texts left on read, can you imagine?" He rolled his eyes, "I even reached out to her assistant— the sweet girl has an emotional support turtle nad Ringo—but she said Kira hasn’t shown up at the office since yesterday."
That pulled up short.
"Kira hasn’t been in since yesterday?"
Liam nodded, unease creeping into his normally breezy tone. "Totally unlike her. I an, sure, she ghosted once during her juice cleanse, but that was more of a kale-induced fugue state. This? This feels different."
I dismissed him with a wave. "Clear my schedule after the cake tasting. I need to think."
"You got it. And hey," he paused at the door, "whatever it is—if it is sothing—we’ve got your back."
Once he was gone, I sat in the silence of the room, the buzz of the city far below. My fingers tapped against the table, my mind racing. Kira didn’t just disappear. She was always punctual, and always available. If she hadn’t reached out to , sothing was wrong. I had spoken to her last night, yeah I might have been a bit pissed at her but I could have sworn that she wasn’t too happy with either.
I didn’t like where this was going at all. Sothing was wrong indeed.
Very wrong.
My fingers trembled slightly as I grabbed my phone, the cold glass slick against my skin. My heart was hamring now—not from adrenaline, but sothing darker. Dread. A pulsing, low hum that had settled deep in my chest and refused to go quiet. I scrolled through my recent calls and landed on Jace’s na. No hesitation. I hit dial.
The line rang once. Twice.
"Casey?" His voice ca through rough, laced with alertness, like he could feel sothing was off.
I didn’t give him a mont to catch up.
"I think Kira’s in trouble," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "Sothing’s wrong—she’s not picking up her phone, she didn’t show up at work, and her secretary hasn’t seen her since yesterday. I think... I think Maven’s got to her. Jace, what the hell is he making her do?"
The silence that followed made my skin crawl.
I could almost hear the shift in Jace’s breathing, the way his brain clicked into high gear.
At that mont, a million possibilities swirled in my mind—none of them good. What if Maven was using her as leverage? What if she was already deep into sothing she couldn’t claw her way out of? What if... what if she wasn’t safe?
A shiver slid down my spine, slow and cold.
I had never been more terrified for my best friend’s safety. And for the first ti in a long ti, I felt like the floor beneath my feet was starting to crack.
Reviews
All reviews (0)