Wyatt #2
All of that evaporated if she became a scandal instead of an asset.
I watched the realization hit her face. Watched her understand that this wasn't just about embarrassing photographs or media gossip. This was about her future. Her career. Everything she'd worked toward.
Everything her father had promised her.
I let my expression soften. Just enough. Sympathetic. Understanding. The mask of someone who genuinely wanted to help instead of someone carefully tightening the noose.
"That would be unfortunate."
The understatement hung between us. Delicate. Poisonous.
Harrington's hands flattened against the table again. Knuckles white. Voice dropping to something dangerous and quiet. "What. Do. You. Want."
Each word separated. Precise. The question of a man who knew he was cornered but hadn't surrendered yet. Who understood negotiation enough to recognize when the other party held all the leverage but refused to give ground without fighting for it.
I smiled. Finally. The real conversation could begin.
I straightened in my chair. Let my shoulders settle. Let the casual mask drop just enough that both of them could see the steel underneath.
No more circling. Time to strike.
"Here's what's going to happen."
Harrington's shoulders went rigid. Every muscle in his body coiling tight. Preparing for impact he couldn't see coming yet but knew would hurt.
I kept my voice level. Conversational. Like I was proposing a business arrangement instead of detonating his world.
"You want this fixed?" Didn't wait for an answer. "One month."
The number dropped between us. Specific. Finite. Just long enough to sound reasonable. Just short enough to make him think he could survive it.
Silence stretched. Heavy. Suffocating.
I let it sit there. Let them both absorb the implication before I delivered the rest.
"She stays with me."
Chastity blinked. Rapid. Confused. Like her brain couldn't process what I'd just said. Like the words didn't arrange themselves into any pattern that made sense.
Harrington froze completely. Every line in his body going statue-still. Face draining of color before flushing dark with barely controlled rage.
I didn't rush. Didn't fill the silence. Just watched them both unravel in their separate ways.
Then I added the final piece. "And publicly?" Beat. "We're together."
The words settled into the room like smoke. Thick. Invasive. Impossible to ignore or push away.
Chastity exploded. "WHAT? Absolutely not."
She shot to her feet. Chair scraping loudly against polished floor. Hands braced against the table edge like she needed something solid to keep from flying apart completely.
"You can't just—I'm not—This is insane." Her voice pitched higher. Frantic. Disbelief warring with outrage warring with genuine panic. Color flooded her cheeks. Eyes blazing. Every inch of her radiating rejection.
I didn't raise my voice. Didn't look at her yet.
Just watched Harrington. Watched his jaw clench so hard I could see the muscle jump.
Watched his breathing go shallow and controlled.
Watched him calculate odds and consequences and exactly how much damage I could do if he refused. Watched him realize he had no choice.
"It would explain the picture," I said. "Maybe we paint it as star-crossed, really lean into the romance. People eat that shit up."
"Absolutely no—" She was interrupted before she could finish her sentence.
"Sit down."
Harrington’s voice came out sharp. Authoritative. The tone he probably used in boardrooms when subordinates forgot their place.
She didn't. Just stood there. Trembling. Staring at him like he'd transformed into someone she didn't recognize.
"Dad—"
Harrington cut her off. Words clipped. Final. Brooking zero argument. "Do. What. You're told."
That landed different than my demand.
I watched the impact ripple across her face.
Watched hurt replace confusion. Watched something fragile crack behind her eyes.
Not because a stranger proposed something insane.
But because her father—the man she trusted most in the world—just ordered her compliance without explanation.
Without comfort. Without even pretending she had a say.
I filed that reaction away carefully. Turned it over in my mind. Examined the edges.
She loved him. Deeply. Wanted his approval more than she wanted almost anything else.
That was useful.
She sank slowly back into her chair. Movements mechanical. Face pale. Hands shaking slightly as she folded them tight in her lap again.
I finally let my gaze shift to her. Met those wide, wounded eyes. Let my expression soften just enough to communicate something that might look like sympathy if you didn't know better.
"One month," I repeated. Gentler this time. Reasonable. "Then this all goes away. Even makes sense."
Her lips parted. Breath coming quick and shallow. "I don't understand."
I tilted my head. Almost kind. "You don't need to."
"What exactly does 'stays with you' mean?" Harrington's voice cut through. Cold. Flat. Already negotiating because that's what men like him did when cornered.
I smiled. "She belongs to me."
I let the words settle. Watched Harrington's face turn to stone. Watched his daughter's breath catch in her throat.
"Any boyfriends? That ends now. She lives with me. We make this look real." I leaned forward slightly. "And the more real it looks, the better it is for your merger. If we look serious, committed, this isn't some tawdry hookup at a charity event. It's a relationship. Maybe even love."
The last word tasted like ash. Perfect.
Harrington's jaw worked. Grinding teeth. Calculating. His voice came out strangled. Tight with barely controlled rage. "What do you get out of this?"
I met his eyes. Let him see exactly what lived behind mine. Let the mask drop completely for just one breath. Long enough that he understood this wasn't business. Wasn't strategy. Wasn't negotiation.
This was personal.
"Knowing your special little girl is at my mercy."
His phone buzzed again. Insistent. Demanding.
This time he grabbed it. Stood abruptly. Chair scraping. He crossed to the far corner of the restaurant. Turned his back. Voice dropping low but urgent as he answered.
"Yes. I understand. No, it's—I'm handling it."
The words carried enough for me to hear the panic underneath. The pressure. The walls closing in from multiple directions at once.
Could hear Isabel's voice on the other end.
I clenched my jaw. The vengeful bitch.
I shifted my attention to Chastity. She sat there trembling.
Hands clenched at her sides. Color drained from her face.
Breathing shallow and rapid like someone trying not to hyperventilate.
Eyes darting between her father's back and my face.
Searching for something that made sense.
Some explanation that would transform this nightmare into something manageable.
I just looked at her. Didn't smile. Didn't soften. Didn't pretend. Just assessed. The way you'd evaluate property before purchasing. Checking for flaws. Structural weaknesses. Places that might need reinforcement or careful handling.
She was smaller than I'd realized. Softer. Every line of her body screaming privilege and protection and a life spent inside carefully maintained boundaries that kept the ugliness of the world at a comfortable distance.
Not anymore.
Her voice came out barely above a whisper. "Please."
I tilted my head. "Please what?"
She swallowed hard. "Don't do this."
"Sweetheart, this was in play long before you realize. I'm just collecting what I'm due."
Across the room, Harrington's voice rose fractionally. "I said I'm handling it. The optics will—Yes. Fine. Tomorrow."
He ended the call. Stood there with his back to us for three long seconds. Shoulders rising and falling with controlled breaths. A man trying to compose himself before turning around and facing what he'd already lost.
When he finally walked back, he looked ten years older. Lines deeper around his eyes. Mouth carved into something grim and hollow. The expression of someone who'd just run through every possible outcome and realized they all ended the same way.
Ruin.
If this scandal grew. If investors started digging.
If they uncovered the affair buried beneath years of carefully managed PR and legal NDAs and his wife's willingness to stay quiet for the right price.
If Isabel's board panicked. If they pulled out of the merger citing "concerns about leadership stability. " If everything collapsed.
He'd lose it all.
The company. The legacy. The empire he'd spent decades building.
He met my eyes. Long. Searching. Looking for some crack. Some weakness. Some angle he could exploit to turn this around. Found nothing.
His shoulders sagged fractionally. Defeated. Then he turned to his daughter. Voice flat. Empty. Already decided. "You'll do it."
She spun toward him. Eyes wide. Disbelieving. "Dad—"
He didn't look at her. Couldn't. Just stared at some point past her shoulder. Voice mechanical. "It's for the family."
That word again.
Family.
I smiled. Small. Cold. Satisfied.
Perfect.