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Chapter 580:
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“Shut up!”
“— idiot.” The word came out clean and sharp as a blade. “Enjoy your video, Kevin. Enjoy your gorgeous woman. I’m sure she appreciates your dedication.”
She hung up, tossed the phone onto the sofa as though it were contaminated, and walked to the bedroom. She closed the door behind her.
And finally, finally, allowed herself to cry.
The office smelled of cedar and power.
Cedrick stood at the window, watching the rain dissolve the city into impressionist blurs, and felt the unfamiliar sensation of satisfaction. It hummed in his chest — warm and dangerous, the feeling of a predator who had finally cornered his prey.
“She’s in the apartment.” Miles’s voice came from behind him, professional as always. “Security reports she hasn’t attempted to leave. She’s crying, sir.”
“Good.”
He didn’t turn. Didn’t need to see his assistant’s expression to know it would be carefully blank — the mask of a man who had learned not to judge his employer’s pleasures.
“The European acquisition?” he asked instead.
“Proceeding. The Duponts have withdrawn their opposition.” A pause. “Augustus called. He wished to express his regret. For his granddaughter’s behavior.”
𝗜𝗇sta𝗻t 𝗮c𝗰𝖾𝘴𝘀 𝗈𝘯 g𝗮𝗹no𝗏𝖾𝘭s.𝘤𝗼𝘮
Cedrick laughed — soft and without humor. “He wishes to express his fear. The distinction matters.”
“Yes, sir.”
Silence stretched between them, filled with the rain and the distant hum of the city. Cedrick’s hand found his pocket and closed around the phone with its saved image of her, its unsent messages, its evidence of her weakness.
She had photographed him. Had cared for him. Had fed him candy like he was a child to be soothed rather than a monster to be fled.
And then she had run.
He understood the running. Expected it, even welcomed it — the chase was its own pleasure. What he hadn’t expected, what he was still turning over in his mind like a stone with hidden facets, was the moment before the running. The tenderness. The fury that was indistinguishable from care.
“Sir.” Miles’s voice again, hesitant. “The board is asking about your personal situation. The rumors from Paris. The woman.”
“Tell them nothing.”
“They’re concerned about stability. About optics. About —”
“Tell them,” Cedrick turned, fixing his assistant with the full weight of his attention, “that I am pursuing a strategic acquisition. That the target is resistant. That the negotiation requires certain unorthodox methods.” He smiled, and watched Miles pale slightly. “Tell them whatever soothes their anxiety. But do not tell them her name. Do not tell them anything that could lead them to her.”
“Yes, sir.”
.
.
.