The sleek Bentley glided through Havenwood City's bustling streets, its engine purring almost silently as I sat beside Isabelle Ashworth in the plush leather backseat. Her scent—sothing delicate and expensive—filled the space between us, making it hard to focus on anything else.
"The Hawthorne family's market share has dropped fifteen percent in the last week alone," Isabelle said, her voice carrying a hint of satisfaction as she scrolled through reports on her tablet. "Their major clients are abandoning ship faster than I predicted."
I couldn't help but smile. "How much longer before Julian Hawthorne cos crawling?"
"Days, not weeks." Isabelle's eyes t mine, a spark of admiration in them. "Your strategy was brilliant, Liam. Targeting their supply chain rather than attacking them directly... they never saw it coming."
Her secretary, Emma, cleared her throat from the front passenger seat. "Miss Ashworth, the Hawthornes still have considerable resources. We shouldn't underestimate—"
"Did I ask for your opinion?" I cut in, my voice cool. The old Liam might have valued her caution, but I was done with hesitation. "The Hawthornes are finished. Sebastian will get exactly what he deserves."
Emma stiffened visibly. "Of course, Mr. Knight. I apologize."
I caught Isabelle's slight smile of approval. "No rcy this ti?" she asked quietly.
"None," I confird. The mory of Sebastian Hawthorne's smug face as he'd tried to humiliate at the Sterling family dinner still burned. "He made his choice when he sided against ."
Isabelle placed her hand over mine, her touch sending electricity through my skin. "Good. rcy is wasted on n like him."
The Bentley pulled up to the Skyline Tower, its glass exterior reflecting the sunset in brilliant gold and crimson hues. A valet opened our door, and I stepped out first, offering my hand to Isabelle. She erged gracefully, the erald silk of her dress catching the light.
"Ready for this?" she asked, studying my face.
I adjusted my custom-tailored suit—another gift from Isabelle that probably cost more than I used to make in six months. "Cocktail parties aren't exactly my natural habitat." Еnjоying thе stоry? Disсоvеr mоrе оn
"Just stay close to ," she smiled, linking her arm through mine. "And rember, half the people here would sell their grandmother for a chance to work with the Ashworth family."
We took the private elevator directly to the rooftop. As the doors opened, I was hit with a wave of sounds and sensations: gentle classical music, the murmur of cultivated conversation, the sparkle of crystal glasses, and the sprawling view of Havenwood City spread out below us like a carpet of lights.
Isabelle navigated through the crowd with practiced ease, stopping occasionally to exchange pleasantries. I noticed how others reacted to her—n straightening their posture, won reassessing their jewelry, everyone suddenly more aware of themselves in her presence.
"Mr. Fontaine," she greeted a silver-haired man who approached us, his expression eager. "Have you t Liam Knight? He's recently beco my most valued consultant."
The man vigorously shook my hand. "Any friend of Miss Ashworth's is a friend of mine. Are you in finance, Mr. Knight?"
Before I could answer, movent near the entrance caught my attention. My body tensed instantly. Lucas Rhodes had just entered the party, his face still bearing the faint yellowing bruises from our confrontation. Beside him stood Nora Donovan, her red hair unmistakable even across the crowded rooftop.
"Excuse ," I said to Mr. Fontaine, my focus locked on the new arrivals.
Isabelle followed my gaze and frowned. "What are they doing here?"
"I'm about to find out." But before I could move, Nora spotted . Her face transford from social pleasantness to raw hatred in an instant. She grabbed Lucas's arm and dragged him in our direction, ignoring his visible reluctance.
"Well, well," Nora sneered as she reached us, her voice pitched to carry. "Look who's pretending to belong among the elite."
I kept my expression neutral. "Miss Donovan. I see your father's not with you tonight. Still recovering?"
Lucas flinched at the reference, but Nora's eyes only hardened. "You think breaking a few bones makes you sobody? You're nothing but a thug who got lucky."
"Nora," Lucas muttered, tugging at her arm. "Let's not do this here."
She shook him off. "No, I want everyone to know exactly who they're rubbing elbows with." She turned, addressing the curious onlookers who had stopped their conversations to watch our confrontation. "This man is a fraud. Yesterday he was a nobody that the Sterling family kept around out of pity, and today he's pretending to belong in our world."
I felt a cold anger rising in , but kept my voice steady. "Is there a point to this tantrum, Miss Donovan? Or are you just upset that I exposed your father's true skill level?"
"My father is ten tis the man you'll ever be!" Her voice had risen enough that people across the rooftop were turning to stare. "You may have fooled Isabelle Ashworth with whatever ga you're playing, but the rest of us know what you really are—a bastard who doesn't deserve to breathe the sa air as us!"
I was about to respond when Isabelle stepped forward, her movent so fluid it seed she'd glided into position between us. The crowd fell silent as she fixed Nora with an icy stare.
"Who are you calling a bastard?" Isabelle asked, her voice soft but carrying clearly across the now-hushed rooftop.
Nora faltered, suddenly rembering who she was dealing with. "I—I was referring to him, of course."
"I'm aware of whom you were insulting," Isabelle replied, her tone growing colder. "I was questioning your right to do so in my presence, at an event I was personally invited to, while you..." She paused, eyes flicking dismissively over Nora's dress. "Who exactly invited you, Miss Donovan?"
The color drained from Nora's face. "The Sumrs Foundation sent invitations to all prominent families."
"Ah, but you're not representing your family tonight, are you?" Isabelle smiled, the expression never reaching her eyes. "Your father is still... indisposed. And as I recall, the invitation specifically stated that secondary guests required approval."
Lucas stepped forward. "Miss Ashworth, I was invited directly. Nora is my plus-one."
"Is that so?" Isabelle turned her attention to him. "Mr. Rhodes, wasn't your family removed from the Sumrs Foundation board last year after those unfortunate embezzlent allegations?"
Lucas looked as if he'd been slapped. Whispers rippled through the gathered crowd.
"That case was dismissed," he muttered.
"The charges were dropped," Isabelle corrected him smoothly. "Not quite the sa thing, is it?"
I watched her work with a blend of awe and attraction. This was a side of Isabelle I hadn't fully appreciated before—the practiced social predator, absolutely lethal in her natural environnt.
She turned back to Nora. "Now, about your opinion of Mr. Knight. Let make sothing abundantly clear: Liam Knight is my personal guest and business associate. An attack on him is an attack on ." She stepped closer to Nora, lowering her voice. "And you really don't want to make an enemy of , especially not when your family's reputation is already in tatters."
Nora's face flushed crimson. "You can't speak to like that."
"I believe I just did." Isabelle smiled again, this ti with manufactured warmth. "Now, you have two options. You can apologize to Mr. Knight and enjoy the rest of the evening in silence, or security can escort you out. What will it be?"
The tension was exquisite. I could almost feel the calculations running through Nora's mind—her pride warring with the reality of Isabelle's social power.
Finally, Lucas grabbed Nora's elbow. "We should go," he muttered. "This isn't worth it."
"Coward," she hissed at him, but allowed herself to be led toward the exit, throwing one last venomous look in my direction.
As they retreated, the crowd began dispersing, conversation resuming with renewed energy—no doubt discussing what they'd just witnessed.
Isabelle turned to , a hint of concern breaking through her composed exterior. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," I assured her, fighting the urge to touch her face. "That was... impressive."
A genuine smile replaced her professional mask. "The Donovans needed to learn that actions have consequences. Besides," her voice dropped lower, ant only for , "no one insults what's mine."
The possessive note in her voice sent heat coursing through . For a mont, we stood there, sothing unspoken passing between us.
Before I could respond, Mr. Fontaine approached again, clearly eager to continue our interrupted conversation. "Miss Ashworth, I wonder if I might steal you away for just a mont? The mayor has so questions about the riverside developnt."
Isabelle nodded graciously. "Of course." She turned to , her fingers briefly squeezing mine. "Don't go far."
As she walked away, I moved to the edge of the rooftop, looking out over the city. So much had changed in such a short ti. Just weeks ago, I would have shrunk from a confrontation like tonight's. Now, I felt only a calm determination, knowing that each defeated enemy was another step toward my goal.
And then there was Isabelle—beautiful, powerful, stepping forward to defend without hesitation. The mory of her words echoed in my mind: "No one insults what's mine."
Was that what I was becoming to her? Hers?
I smiled into the night, watching the city lights glitter below. If so, I found I didn't mind the idea at all.
Reviews
All reviews (0)