Chapter 4

Chloe's eyes well up on cue.

"Moira, I'm so sorry… I was scared, and Julian said a drink might calm my nerves."

"I'll pay you back for the bottle, I promise. I don't want any trouble…"

"Pay me back?" I almost smile. "Sweetheart, do you even know what you drank?"

"On your salary, you could work ten years and still not cover it."

"Christ, Moira." Julian's voice drops cold. "Is money the only thing that ever comes out of your mouth?"

"She's my guest. You don't get to humiliate her."

"Your guest? This is my damn manor." I stare at him coldly. "You put her on my helicopter and left me alone in that burning warehouse."

"Tell me, Julian—did you sell your conscience with the rest of your debts?"

"You brought that on yourself." Julian meets my eyes. Flat. Cold.

"I told you not to come. You insisted on playing wife on my work trip. Who's to blame for that?"

Then he sneers.

"Now that you mention it, maybe you're the reason we got attacked in the first place."

For a second, I can barely recognize the man standing in front of me.

Chloe tugs at his sleeve, soft as silk.

"Julian, don't say it like that. Moira only went because she was worried about you."

"Look at her hand. Her dress is torn…"

Julian doesn't even glance at my hand.

"If she were really hurt, Chloe, she wouldn't be standing here running her mouth."

"That's who she is. Money and business. There's nothing else inside this woman."

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out the black card I gave him years ago, back when he swore he'd protect me, my business, all of it.

He flicks it at my chest.

"Put the bottle on the card. That enough for you?"

Chloe hurries to stop him. "Don't be like that. After all, she's the one who gave you The Vescari…"

Julian cuts her off, disgust written all over his face.

"If I had a choice, I wouldn't spend another second around a woman who reeks of money like her."

He doesn't spare me another glance before taking Chloe's hand and leaving.

I look down at the black card on the floor and let out a bitter, speechless laugh.

---

Julian wasn't always like this.

The first year I put him in The Vescari, the old board tried to saddle him with a trash deal.

He didn't want to sign it, so I brought legal in overnight, killed the contract, and ate the five-million-dollar penalty myself.

He sat outside the conference room afterward, asking me if I thought he was being too difficult.

I told him no.

If he didn't want the deal, he didn't have to take it or choke down something that made him sick just to prove himself.

He held me and swore he would make that money back for me one day.

Later, he really did make The Vescari successful.

And the more successful he got, the prouder he became and the less he listened.

His plans got riskier. More obscure.

Private rooms, strange credit lines, deals with people whose names shouldn't have been anywhere near our books.

I didn't want to watch him turn a clean front into a liability, so I had the accountants and attorneys revise his proposals.

Sometimes, I killed them outright.

I thought he would understand.

Then Chloe showed up.

Every time one of his proposals got shut down, she would look at him with red eyes.

"Julian, that plan was good. Moira only killed it because she probably didn't think it would make enough money."

"You're so talented. It's a shame no one understands you."

I wanted Julian to win bigger.

Chloe turned that into me treating him like a walking ATM, and me as a cold-blooded bitch who only cared about the bottom line.

I was trying to keep him from driving straight off a cliff.

She turned that into control. Into me being some power-hungry tyrant who couldn't stand to see him shine.

And little by little, with Chloe dripping poison in his ear, Julian started looking at me like I was the enemy.

Now, I'm done wasting my time on him.

And I'm done being the villain in a story I paid for.

I pour myself three fingers of bourbon.

My phone lights up on the coffee table.

Luca Vancy.

"Background clean. Medical clean. Papers signed. On your word, Miss Vescari. — L"

I turn the black card over once more. Then I pick up the phone.

"Come over tomorrow. We'll talk."

The reply comes instantly.

"Yes, ma'am."

I set the phone facedown on the rug.