TWELVE
Iris
I’m almost brisk walking. The click of my heels against the marble is the only thing I hear in the empty Astor building.
God! I need to calm myself before I face Levi. It’s not something I thought I’d do, but he needs to know what I’ve just learned this morning.
I had been working out of the building to gain local network access, when I learned that Levi was also working upstairs. It wasn’t in my plans to actually talk to him, but I don’t think this can wait.
The moment I step near the hallway that leads up to his office, dread starts coiling.
I’m hoping I don’t run into that bastard on a Sunday. The man was eerily, yet dangerously calm during the party. He intercepted two of my attempts to talk to Celestine—Cece. I genuinely only wanted to get her input on the merger, now that Miller-Moore is actively involved.
But he smiled at me with that hint of hate in his eyes when I tried the first time. Then the second time, he dropped the pretenses. Dragging me away into a corner.
Tae, Taewon—whatever his name is—is a damn loyal minion. And unfortunately, he’s on a mission to hate me on principle. Doesn’t he understand that I need to talk to the Wentworths as well?
??????
“Ms. Desmond,” he growls behind me as I approach Cece. “I’d rather you not associate with Ms. Wentworth. Not at her own parents’ anniversary party.”
Fucking hell. Not this guy again.
“Excuse me?” I ask—his hand on my arm making me turn. “She’s equally important for the merg—”
“Not. Tonight,” he grits out.
What the hell is wrong with him? I haven’t done a thing to him, and he’s here growling at me like a well trained dog. Like he has some type of vendetta against me. But clearly no brain here.
I yank my hand away from him, glaring. “Listen, Mr. Choi. You will not intervene with my job. I’m the lead consultant on—”
“For now.” He smirks bitterly and then it promptly falls off his face in a blink. “And if you really want to talk to Ms. Wentworth, find a more professional setting. Hell, create one.”
I swallow hard, my gaze darting toward where Levi is. Hoping he can get his damn guard dog leashed. But Levi is off to the other end of the hall, mingling. Shit.
“Fine,” I huff. “I’ll create an opportunity to talk to her then. God.”
I start to turn away when he speaks again. “What’s your game, Ms. Desmond?”
Game? Oh this infuriating, condescending bastard. “My game, Mr. Choi, is to successfully merge the two incredibly powerful companies and finally get approval to lead the research unit at Miller-Moore. My game—is to make this project a success case study and you’re intervening with that. My game—”
“Arasseo, arasseo.” His face twists with irritation. “Sorry—I mean—fine, I get it.”
I scowl at him. “Why are you so pressed? We’ve never even talked properly before and now you’re…”
He sighs, running a quick hand through his dark hair. “I know about you and Levi.”
My eyes widen and he steps closer, continuing. His eyes narrowing. “And that’s why I don’t understand your motives. You knew Levi’s going to be involved, yet you came here. I also heard you spilled your past with Levi in front of Cece. Which makes you… a puzzle piece I can’t quite fit.”
“I… what?” My breathing picks up. “I thought she already knew and… it was polite to put the past behi—”
“That wasn’t polite, Ms. Desmond.” He tilts his head, his gaze hardened. “That was an intentional move.”
What the fuck?
He got that from a regular, polite conversation I had with her? I thought it was very civil of us.
“You’re overreaching, Mr. Choi,” I say, deadpan.
“Am I?” He chuckles. “Why do you want to talk to Cece and not—mmm—the other Wentworths? Or the Astors even? Why are you… avoiding them?”
“Because…” My mind blanks.
“Because?” He smirks again, this time a tad more softly.
“Because,” I state firmly. “Ms. Wentworth is the representative from their company. She’s the other arm of the merger.”
Jesus. It was the simplest answer but his intimidation is making me forget my own name. I don’t like it when I’m flustered, and his proximity and accusations are doing just that.
“And,” I stupidly continue. “It’s not like I’m the only one taking advantage of this party for professional purposes.”
He frowns when I square my shoulders in defiance. Then he tilts his head, studying me. “Have you ever been in touch with Thomas or Odette Astor before tonight?”
My pulse hammers in my throat at the question. And I think he notices the change in my face that I wasn’t quick enough to hide.
He scoffs. “I see. Are they the ones who told you to take on this merger?”
Now that pulls me out of my nervous state. “W-What? Are you serious? Why are you interrogating me and not them?”
“That wasn’t a no.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter under my breath. “No. I wasn’t asked to take on this project by any of the Astors. The firm received a request for quotation and they followed through. And I chose the project because I wanted my new research vertical. Happy?”
He stays silent, absorbing my words. Then nodding, he takes a thankful half a step back. “Alright, Ms. Desmond. You clearly have the excuses ready—”
Excuses?
“—but don’t think I’m not watching you. I’d… hope… that you keep your head straight before intervening with things that are not your concern.”
I frown at him, genuinely bewildered. “Are you that single-minded that you can’t comprehend the words coming out of my mouth?” It’s almost as if my last word summons his gaze toward—
I clear my throat. “You need to back off and let the professionals handle this. Let me do my job.”
He quirks a brow, eyes lifting to mine. Thank God!
“Professionals? I’m an executive assistant, woman. Not a PA.”
“You…” I bring out my own sweet smile. “Actually, you are an errant man whipping fantasies out of nothing. And using your flawed judgment to justify cornering a woman.”
His demeanor shifts quickly and I know I’ve said the right words. He’s no longer in my space. In fact, he takes two massive steps back, his face a picture of confusion. I almost feel bad for the embarrassed flush in his cheeks.
“I apologize,” he says, almost coldly. “I shouldn’t have…” He trails off.
I assume he’ll continue, but in a blink he’s gone. Walking away. Leaving me smirking at his retreating, stiff back.
??????
I knock gently on the office door. The nameplate reads Levi Astor - President, its brass letters polished to a gold gleam. When there’s no response, I frown. I know he’s here—I just saw his blurry silhouette across the frosted glass panels.
I knock again, then try the handle, surprised when it gives.
He’s inside. Seated behind his desk in a tailored suit, eyes locked on the phone in front of him. He looks confident. Collected. Even as a slight flicker of irritation washes over his eyes.
Then he looks up. For a second, confusion darkens his features—until there is only surprise settling on his face.
“Iris,” he says as he stands up, my name sounding more like a question.
I clear my throat. “I was working a floor down… and heard you were in.”
He nods, expression blanking. “Okay. Anything you need?”
“Actually, uh… there is,” I say as I step further inside. His office is stark and clean, yet something about it still feels… like him. Pockets of old Levi tucked between the sleek minimalism of his new world. If anything, I’m proud of him.
“I came across something in the archives while researching merger restructuring. And I think… I think you need to see this.”
His jaw tenses, fingers brushing over the stubble on his chin. He gives me a short nod, glancing at his wrist before rounding the desk. “I was just about to take a break. Want to walk down to the cafeteria?”
“Sure.” I follow him down, nerves humming quietly beneath my skin.
I hadn’t planned to talk to him like this. I thought maybe I’d email what I found. Or leave it at his desk. But this felt important. And if I’m honest—I wanted to be the one to tell him. Alone.
Thankfully, the cafeteria is nearly empty. Just a few workers manning the counter.
We settle on one of the tables at the center, side by side. I open my laptop, the screen already pulled up to the three previous mergers I’d flagged.
He studies them for a beat before turning to me. “Okay. Context?”
“Yeah, so…” I nod. “The last three major mergers Astor’s done—in the past forty-one years—have significantly hurt the Astor Capital Funds portfolio. I was trying to find a pattern. Something we could avoid repeating.”
He raises a brow. “Why exactly forty-one years?”
I smile, expecting that question. “That’s when Thomas Astor took over from your grandfather.”
He nods slowly, absorbing that.
I continue before he has to ask. “That pattern led me to think about the clause. Because one of these mergers—the Astor-Sterling deal—was very similar to what’s happening now with Wentworth.
Thomas married your mother, Odette Sterling, the second daughter of the family. And the merger followed shortly after.”
He narrows his eyes slightly, not in skepticism but contemplation. “So what are you saying? That this is history repeating itself?”
“Yes,” I say. “But more than that.” I close the laptop and turn to him. “Levi. That merger happened thirty-five years ago. Your father had already been president for six years by then. Which means… I don’t think the clause existed. Not back then.” I wait, letting the implication settle.
I see the moment it registers.
Levi’s lips part, his eyes narrowing, unfocused—like his brain just short-circuited. “I…” He jolts to his feet. “Maybe… maybe they modified the clause for me?”
He’s grasping at something. Anything. Trying to make sense of the chaos probably unraveling in his head.
I rise too, careful not to startle him. “Maybe. Or maybe they just created it for your transition.”
He blinks at me.
I keep going. “I didn’t find anything in the Charles-to-Thomas transition files. Maybe it was hidden. But the likeliest scenario? They introduced the clause for you.”
His head shakes again, slow and disbelieving. Then he presses his fist to his forehead. “If they created the clause for me…” he mutters, more to himself than to me, “then… fuck. Wait. Okay.”
Then his gaze finds mine, sharp and rattled. “You said they interfered ten years ago, right?”
I nod.
His expression hardens. The disbelief morphs into something colder. More furious.
He turns and paces a few steps, then swings back around. “And then… what? Then they wrote this clause in? Or was it already there?” He runs both hands through his hair, clearly spiraling. “But then they’re also doing this?”
This?
I shrug helplessly. “I… I don’t know.”
But he’s already muttering again. Because clearly, there are dots in his head that he’s connecting. Ones I’m unaware of.
“…the fucking clause.”
“…Cece. The merger would expose…”
Then he lets out a bitter laugh—clipped and humorless. “They just, they keep interfering. Every time I think I’ve gotten somewhere, they—dammit!”
I watch him pace back and forth. His hand on his chin as he moves. I’ve seen him angry before, but this is different. He isn’t exactly panicking. But probably processing years of manipulation all at once.
“You should get rid of it,” I blurt. “The clause. You’ll need legal counsel and a cleanup strategy but—”
“Fuck yes, I need to get rid of the clause!” he grits out. “Christ!” His hands clench in his hair again, like he’s trying to hold his brain in place before it explodes.
“Levi,” I whisper, taking a cautious step forward.
He doesn’t hear me. He’s still muttering under his breath. Still pacing slightly. “…the clause… Cece’s reputation… they’re doing it again… shit… they don’t want me to take over…”
“Levi,” I try again, louder this time, closing the gap between us.
“…then why…”
Still, he doesn’t look at me. He’s not looking at anything, really—eyes glazed, jaw tight. Mind probably running a mile a minute.
So I reach out gently, place my hands on his shoulders. “Levi,” I whisper.
He’s tense. His frame is rigid.
For a split second, his gaze snaps to mine. It’s wild yet controlled. But entirely elsewhere.
And then—