Chapter 28
N early an hour passes, and somehow, we’ve successfully managed to avoid any talk of the merger.
The game continues in the background, the suite filled with easy conversation, laughter, and the occasional burst of cheers from the stands outside.
Across the room, Elena is tucked into a quiet conversation with Margo, their heads tilted toward each other as they giggle like they’re sharing secrets.
It’s a simple moment, an unassuming one, but as I watch them—Margo’s warm, maternal presence, Elena’s soft, unguarded expression—it strikes something deep in my chest.
For a second, they could almost be mother and daughter.
The thought cuts through me, unexpected and visceral, breaking something open inside me that I’m not ready to acknowledge.
I swallow hard, forcing my attention elsewhere, focusing on Marcus and Calloway as they talk through something lighthearted, something easy—until he joins us.
Adrian.
The cocky piece of shit sidles up like he belongs here, hands in his pockets, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
I know that look.
And I know exactly what’s coming next.
“So,” he starts, his tone all casual charm, but I hear the sharpness beneath it, the calculated edge, “any recent developments on the merger sites? Any last-minute changes?”
The fucker is baiting me.
Marcus stiffens beside me. Calloway’s expression remains neutral, but I see the way his attention sharpens, waiting.
I could lie. Say no and brush him off.
I could give a half-truth, something vague, something noncommittal, and pray to fucking God that Calloway doesn’t read into it.
I take a slow breath, about to respond?—
But before I can, Elena moves.
Her conversation with Margo halts abruptly, her gaze snapping toward us, and before Adrian can press any further, she shifts the entire fucking moment on its axis.
“Richard,” she says smoothly, pulling a small box from her purse. “I have a small gift for you. It’s nothing much.”
I blink, caught off guard.
I hadn’t even realized she’d thought to bring anything other than the flowers for Margo.
That smart, beautiful fucking woman.
She was over there waiting, talking to Margo but still in tune to what was going on around her. Biding her time and holding off to use the moment as a distraction to save my fucking ass from the shit show we just learned about on the way over here.
God, if it doesn’t take everything in me to stay right here and keep myself from finally giving in to every agonizing temptation that’s driven me nearly mad all fucking week.
She turns toward him, smiling, and there’s something genuine in her eyes, something bright and excited, like she truly wants to give this to him—not because it’s expected, not because it’s part of the contract, but because it matters.
“Though,” Elena continues, shooting Margo a knowing glance, “it seems like it was meant to be, considering your wife’s gift.”
Margo tilts her head in curiosity, and Calloway, clearly intrigued, takes the box and carefully opens it.
His mouth pops open in shock.
We all lean in slightly, trying to see what’s inside.
“Oh, Margo. Look.”
His voice is thick with emotion as he pulls out a simple silver keychain. One side holds a small picture—an old photograph, slightly faded, of a young couple in the prime of their youth.
The other side holds the exact same couple, only older.
A perfect then-and-now image of Richard and Margo Calloway.
“That’s from our first date,” Margo breathes, eyes wide with disbelief. “How on earth…?”
Elena smiles, warmth radiating from her expression. “The Global Future Fund still had the pictures you submitted when they did that piece on you,” she explains. “And I noticed the recent photograph in Fortune magazine was the exact same pose. It seemed too good to pass up.”
“Elena.”
Calloway is beyond touched; his voice is thick with emotion as he swipes at his eyes before pulling her into a hug.
Margo lets out a quiet gasp, tears spilling freely as she, too, embraces Elena.
And just like that, Adrian is completely forgotten.
Hell, even the fucking merger is forgotten.
I can see it in Adrian’s face—the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers twitch at his sides, barely restraining his frustration. He fucking hates it.
Hates that Elena just effortlessly stole the spotlight, that she’s the one Calloway and his wife are wrapped up in right now, that she’s the one making this moment unforgettable.
It’s poetic, really.
And when he tries to shift the attention back, his voice all forced charm as he attempts, yet again, to circle back to business?—
Margo shuts him down without a second thought.
“No talk of work tonight.” She dabs at her tears, smiling at Elena before squeezing her husband’s hand. “That’s an order.”
Adrian clenches his jaw, swallowing whatever smart remark he had ready.
And I sit back, taking in the scene—Elena still tucked in Margo’s embrace, Calloway fitting his new key onto the keychain, Adrian fuming in silence.
Elena’s laughter still lingers in the air, wrapping around me like a thread I don’t want to cut.
Margo is still wiping at her eyes, showing off the new keychain with a fond smile, while Calloway beams, clearly moved by Elena’s thoughtful gift.
I barely hear any of it.
Because the second they step away, I move to Elena.
Crossing the short space between us, I wrap an arm low around her back and pull her flush against me. Her body fits against mine effortlessly, like she belongs there.
I bury my face in her hair, inhaling the scent of her perfume—warm, soft, fucking intoxicating.
She chuckles, a quiet sound, but I don’t miss the way her breath hitches slightly.
“Damien,” she whispers, my name a soft admonishment, but there’s no real bite to it.
I tighten my grip, my fingers pressing into the dip of her spine.
“You’re fucking incredible.”
My voice is low, rough, and even I can hear the longing in it.
I don’t know if she catches it.
I don’t know if she realizes how completely I’m losing myself in her.
But before I can dwell on it, before I can even think about what the hell I’m doing, a voice I fucking despise cuts through the moment.
“Touching little display.”
The smirk on Adrian’s face is one I want to rip clean off. He strolls up with that easy arrogance, his hands in his pockets, his eyes flicking between us before settling on Elena.
His gaze lingers too long.
And I feel the barely contained violence coil tight in my chest.
My fingers twitch at my sides before instinct takes over, my grip tightening around Elena’s waist, pulling her closer—a silent warning.
He doesn’t take it.
Adrian’s smirk deepens, his eyes flicking between Elena and me like he’s enjoying some private joke at my expense.
“I have to say, Elena, you’ve got quite a talent for keeping powerful men entertained.”
The words hit like a match to gasoline.
My jaw tightens, my fists flex at my sides. I don’t know what pisses me off more—the audacity of the statement or the way he’s looking at her, like she’s something to be passed around, like he has the right to talk about her at all.
It takes every ounce of control I have not to knock the smugness clean off his face. Instead, I step forward, positioning myself between them, my body blocking his view of her entirely. My voice is low, controlled, lethal.
“Watch the way you talk to my fiancée.”
Adrian lifts his hands in mock surrender, but the smirk never falters.
“Relax, Wolfe,” he drawls, voice dripping with condescension. “I meant it as a compliment.”
Lying bastard.
My fingers twitch at my sides, every muscle in my body coiled tight, ready to snap.
Calloway’s voice carries across the suite, drawing Adrian’s attention. The older man waves him over, gesturing for him to join their small group at the far end of the room.
Adrian lingers.
He should just walk the fuck away. Take whatever shred of dignity he has left and leave.
But instead, he steps in, just close enough that no one else can hear.
His voice is low, laced with poison, looking around me, right at Elena.
“When he’s finished with you… tell me how much.”
He winks. Smiles.
And I lose it.
The growl rumbles from deep in my chest before I can stop it. My vision narrows, my body moving on instinct, fists clenching as I lunge for him.
I don’t care about the setting, the crowd, the fact that Calloway is just feet away—none of it matters.
I’m going to break this bastard.
But before I can get my hands on him, Elena is there.
Her body presses against mine, her hands splaying against my chest, my face.
Her touch grounding me, pulling me back from the edge.
Elena’s eyes lock onto mine, a silent plea written in their depths.
“Damien,” she murmurs, voice quiet but firm. “Remember. He’s not fucking worth it.”
I’m breathing hard, my blood still boiling.
“But you are,” I grit out, the words barely controlled. “You’re fucking worth it, and he can’t?—”
“He can.”
She rubs my jaw with her thumbs. Her hands slide down my neck, gripping my shoulders, making me feel her touch before they rest on my chest again.
“Damien. Don’t play his game. He’s goading you. If you snap, he wins.”
I close my eyes, exhaling a slow, uneven breath. I don’t want to back down.
Every instinct in me is screaming to finish what Adrian just started.
To wipe that smug fucking look off his face.
But Elena’s right.
Adrian walks away victorious, chuckling under his breath.
I don’t watch him go.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of my attention.
Instead, I keep my focus on Elena.
On the way her hands still rest against my chest, the way she’s holding me together without even realizing it.
She doesn’t look back at Adrian or acknowledge him at all.
She just looks at me.
And somehow, that’s enough to settle the storm inside me.
I blow out another breath, muscles still tight beneath her hands, and drop my forehead against hers.
My grip tightens at her waist, keeping her close, needing her there.
“Come on,” she whispers, her voice softer now. “Let’s go home, okay?”
I don’t answer right away.
I can’t.
I’m still too wound up, my mind already moving a mile a minute, plotting exactly how I’ll make Adrian regret this.
She tilts her head, watching me carefully. “Hey, Wolfie.”
The nickname pulls my eyes to hers.
A small smile tugs at her lips, but the worry is still there, flickering behind her gaze.
“Take me home?”
It takes me a second longer than it should, but eventually, I nod.
She exhales, relaxing against me.
But even as I turn, leading her toward the exit, one thing is certain.
Adrian won’t fucking get away with this.
That smug asshole is going to pay.