39. Liam
LIAM
I wake to three missed calls from Max and an urgent message from one of our analysts.
Three of the banking partners behind Max’s hotel empire have received alerts questioning the stability of MX Horizon. There’s nothing wrong with the chain. This is smoke, and that match was struck on purpose.
“They’re trying to spook the banks.” Max is calm. Men don’t build global empires by cracking under pressure.
“Who?”
He sends the name of the consultancy. I already know what I’m going to find.
It traces straight back to a holding company owned by Victor Rochemont, registered weeks after Greigson pulled his backing. Exactly when I expected Victor to start scrambling. I just didn’t expect him to come after my brother.
“That conniving bastard,” I grit out.
An incoming call snaps my attention. “Sorry, it’s Helena,” I tell Max and answer her.
“Hello, Foxie,” she greets.
“Hey. How are you going?”
She laughs. “Wow. Who are you and what did you do with Liam Hunt?”
“Helena, what is it?” For once I’m eager to end the call. I need to talk to her about Victor’s scheme but right now I have a bigger problem to deal with. And when I do tell her, I have to do it right. Victor isn’t just a name to her, they have history.
“Relax. If you’re in the boardroom, I’m not about to stream myself in bed with my legs spread out.”
“Helena—”
“I’m kidding,” she says. “I’m at Iris’.”
“Oh. Good.”
“I know I teased you at the hospital. But truth is, I don’t even like babies that much, but Lio smells amazing. Is that a thing?”
My mouth opens, then closes.
“Liam? You there?”
“Helena, can we talk later?”
“Ah. Boardroom it is,” she says, still giggling. “Call me later.”
I stare at the black screen of my phone.
“Hey, you okay, man?” Max says.
“Fine,” I say, pushing aside the stray suspicion. “So. Victor.”
“No doubt it’s him.”
I agree. “He thinks if he fucks with you, he fucks with me.”
Max gives a short breath through his nose. He isn’t the kid who used to sleep with a plush horse named Mr. Carter. He doesn’t need saving. But that doesn’t change the equation. I’ve stepped in before. I’ll step in again. This time, there won’t be a warning shot.
“When does he land?” I ask.
“Newark. Fourteen twenty.”
Victor comes through arrivals in a tailored coat, shoulders square, pace even. He heads straight for the taxi line.
No driver?
That doesn’t match the man who just bought a Gulfstream. A Bentley would have made a statement. A house would have planted him here. A jet does neither. A jet is escape.
He spots me and smiles like this is a coincidence.
“No limo today?” I ask.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Hunt.”
“You had your Luxembourg vehicle contact three MX lenders this morning.”
His brow ticks. “Markets evolve.”
“You’re scrambling, Rochemont.”
He pauses, then pivots. “You shut down Sag Harbor for her. Helen must’ve—”
My hand fists into the lapels of his coat before he finishes the sentence. I drag him half a step off balance.
“You don’t touch my brother’s business,” I say. “You’ve got something to say about Helena, you say it to me. You don’t go around him. You don’t even think about it.”
“Careful,” he mutters. “Airports have cameras.”
“I own half the feeds.”
I release him with a shove. He straightens, then smooths his coat. “Stay away from her,” he says through clenched teeth. “Find your own woman.”
“She’s not yours to guard.”
Victor appraises me. “You timed it well,” he says. “You made your move the second my capital took a hit.”
“No. You took a hit when she left you.”
“There it is. Always back to her.” He smiles smugly. “I know you’re behind Greigson backing out. You’re good at pulling strings. And you’re a good thief.”
“I don’t pull strings. I cut them,” I say. “And I don’t steal.”
“Call it whatever you like. You’ve always enjoyed picking up assets at a discount.” He laughs. “How does she moan, Hunt? Did she get your name right? Or was she calling out someone else when she came?”
I grab his coat again and slam him back against the glass partition hard enough that it shudders.
People turn. A suitcase topples. His breath leaves him in a sharp burst. For a split second, I see exactly how this ends—my fist breaking his jaw, security dragging me off him while he bleeds on airport tile.
I pull him up until he’s forced onto his tiptoes, my eyes flaring in challenge. Then I release him. Because breaking his face would be a mercy.
“You think you know everything,” he says, straightening his collar like that didn’t just happen.
“I know enough,” I reply. “Cowards take the money and leave.”
His eyes harden. “Last warning, Hunt. Stay away from my business. And stay away from her.”
“Or what?”
“Or I stop being polite.”
“And this is my last warning to you,” I say. “You don’t touch MX. You don’t go near my brother. And if you ever reduce a woman to an asset you can trade—” I take one step closer. “—I will end you so completely you won’t recognize the wreckage.”
He gives me a thin smile. “Asset or not, loyalty has a way of revealing itself.”
I adjust my cuff like this is a calendar meeting wrapping up. “Check your email,” I add. “I assume your jet doesn’t come with Wi-Fi.”
When he opens it, he’ll understand something he doesn’t yet. This conversation wasn’t the threat. It was the courtesy.
By the time I reach Hunt )
My mind blanks, then snaps. Is she telling me something? That can’t be possible. She told me she was on birth control.
Jesus…what the fuck is happening?