Chapter Six
Gabriel
Something was wrong. I just didn’t know what. And that annoyed the shit out of me.
The board seemed inattentive. Bored, even. Twelve seats, eleven of them filled with the most expensive minds I could borrow, threaten, or buy.
“Three minutes, forty-eight seconds,” I said, checking the time and not bothering to look up. “That’s how long it took for the analysts to start a Reddit thread on the clause adjustment. We should have been faster.”
On my left hand, a patent lawyer with a face like a skeleton with skin stretched tight, started to object but caught my eye. He shut up. There was no way to argue about the obvious: If the market noticed, we were already too late.
“Run it again,” I said.
A woman from risk compliance blinked rapidly, palms flat on her laptop. “Even if we push a retraction-”
“It’s over,” I said. “No point in plugging holes in a burning ship. Let’s talk about what happens next.”
I scanned the room. The intern by the door, probably still using his college email address, fidgeted with the printed agenda. He’d be gone by the next meeting. This room was a hard place for slow learners.
Someone, probably risk compliance, cleared their throat. “We’re getting questions about the integration protocol. Especially the supervisor clause-”
“‘Babysitter clause,’” I corrected, because it’s what everyone would call it. “Don’t play word games. Why is it a problem?”
“It’s…nonstandard,” she said, voice shrinking. “Especially for someone with Ms. Reeves’ credentials.”
The table vibrated, a neat little hum I felt in my fingertips. Someone had set their phone to vibrate, and nobody moved to silence it. The silence had gone electric, all eyes on me. That was good. That was how it should be.
But even I wasn’t ready for the noise that followed.
The doors exploded open. Not literally - security glass hinges are designed to absorb impact - but Eliza made it look like something out of a thriller. She wore black, a picture of perfection like always, her hair tight and face tighter. “Gabriel, I need a word,” she said, voice absolutely subzero.
No one in the room even breathed.
“Now,” she said.
This was a test. Walk out with her, I lose ground in front of my own staff. Refuse, and the situation escalates; Eliza never bluffed.
I watched her, arms crossed, standing just inside the blast radius of the table. My lawyers looked at me for guidance. Eliza looked at me like I was a math problem she intended to solve, even if she had to kill the person who wrote it. Emphasis on the killing part.
Without moving, I watched her. It’s a small pleasure, seeing who sweats first.
Then I stood. “We’ll reconvene in ten.”
The room exhaled as one. I followed Eliza out, barely keeping up with her stride as she carved a path down the hall. The heels probably helped, but mostly it was the force field she projected - she could clear Times Square at rush hour just by walking in a straight line.
She turned into the first empty office, waited for me to enter, then shut the door with unnecessary force.
She didn’t sit. Neither did I.
“What the fuck is this?” she hissed, flipping her phone to show the contract addendum, highlighted in corporate-blood red.
“Looks like a standard oversight measure,” I said.
“You want me to report to a babysitter? That’s not oversight, Gabriel. That’s containment. You think I’m a risk.”
I didn’t answer, because she already knew the answer. Instead, I crossed my arms, mimicking her stance. Power negotiations 101: mirror your adversary, even if you’re negotiating with the only person in the world you respect enough to hate.
She stepped closer. Not aggressive… just deliberate, precise. “You didn’t even tell me. You let me find out from a legal notification.”
“You’re not the only one under pressure,” I said, and regretted it instantly. She could smell deflection like blood in water.
Her laugh was cold and brief. “Poor Gabriel. The weight of the world on your perfectly tailored shoulders.” She leaned in, voice dropping to a surgical whisper. “If you want to get me out, grow some balls and do it right. Don’t play games.”
I didn’t flinch. “You’re not being fired.”
“But I’m being neutered.” Her lips curled in something between a smile and a warning.
I watched her eyes: dark, sharp, always in motion. She was angry but not afraid, never afraid. There was a challenge there, under the accusation. She wanted a fight.
“What’s your alternative?” I asked.
“Let me do my job,” she shot back. “No chaperones, no leash. Or just pull the trigger and get someone more ‘controllable.’ I’m sure you have a spreadsheet of suitable candidates and their pros and cons somewhere.”
She was right, of course. I had several. But I didn’t want her gone. And Eliza at her limit just made her fucking hotter.
“There’s more at stake than your pride,” I said, low and dangerous.
She laughed again, softer. “We both know that’s not true.”
I looked at her, really looked, searching for a crack in the armor. There wasn’t one. But if I could have named the feeling in my chest, it would have been a mixture of frustration and respect. Maybe even admiration, if I let myself sink that low.
“I’ll talk to legal,” I said, each word tasting like surrender. “But when they tell me no, it’s over.”
She cocked her head. “You didn’t request this?”
I shook my head.
“Who did?”
“I’d guess someone who wants you gone.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Her expression didn’t change, but I knew she was recalibrating.
“Is it you?” she asked.
It was almost funny. Eliza, with the emotional subtlety of a sledgehammer, going straight to the root. I didn’t answer. Instead, I stepped closer, reducing the space between us to inches.
She didn’t move back. Her perfume was sharp and clean, not sweet, like crushed mint over ice.
“You could make this very easy, Gabriel,” she said, so close I could feel her words more than hear them. “Just say what you want. For once.”
I almost did. I almost told her that what I wanted, at this moment, was to stop thinking about the contract, or the company, or the expectations of everyone who’d ever invested anything in me.
What I wanted was to see her lose control, if only for a second.
But I was nothing if not controlled.
“I want results,” I said.
She smirked. “Get the clause pulled. Or the next time I walk into your boardroom, it won’t be for a chat.”
“Threatening your boss. Very professional.”
Her smile was genuine this time, sharp as a razor. “I learned from the best.”
She left the office, and for the first time in a long while, I felt off-balance. The power dynamic had shifted; incrementally, but enough to matter.
I went back to the boardroom, but the meeting felt hollow. Nobody challenged my decisions. Nobody interrupted. When it ended, I lingered by the windows, watching the city in the late afternoon sun.
A soft knock at the door. Calvin, wearing a tie so ugly it had to be expensive.
“You have a minute?” he asked.
I nodded. “Your tie looks like shit.”
He closed the door behind himself, then took the tie off, tossing it in a crumpled pile on the table. “We need to talk contingency.”
“For?”
He hesitated, a rare thing for him. “If Eliza walks.”
“She won’t,” I said. The words were too quick, too certain.
He arched a brow. “You sure about that?”
I wasn’t. But I lied anyway. “I can handle her.”
He sat in the chair across from me, posture loose but intent. “I know you two have history. But she’s not just your adversary, Gabriel. She’s also your best shot at pulling this off.”
He wasn’t wrong.
I looked out at the city again. “I’ll make it work.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. Then, quietly: “Don’t forget she’s my sister.”
I heard him leave, but kept my eyes on the skyline, mind already pulling apart every variable, every possible outcome. The only thing I couldn’t model for was her.
The contract would be fixed. The press would probably forget by tomorrow. But the dynamic had changed, and not in my favor.
And for the first time, I wondered if Eliza Reeves was the problem… or if she was the solution like her brother said.