Chapter 8- Lose Control
Danic.
Power is about timing.
The file on my desk comained enough dir to destroy both my opponents, Jamb Chen’s offshore accounts traced directly to construction bribes. Michael Foster’s trail of affairs with interns would make headimes for weeks. But releasing information too early makes you look desperate. Too late, and a loses impart
One month until the election. Everything had to be perfect.
closed the file, checking my watch. The Downtown Business Alliance speech started in an hour, Another performance of the perfect candidate with his perfect fiancée.
If she bothered to play her part
Something was off with Luria today. Throughout breakfast, she’d been distant, checking her phone when she thought I wasn’t looking. That fire, that defiance I’d grown to expect, was muted. Replaced by something that made my jaw clench.
“The car’s ready, sir.” Taylor stood in try office doorway, ever–professional. “Miss Valentini is waiting downstairs.“
I nodded, grabbing my suit jacket. The navy Brioni, chosen to match whatever Lucia wore. These details mattered. Everything mattered.
She stood by the floor–to–ceiling windows, a vision in navy silk that hugged every curve. But her posture was wrong. Tense. Her fingers kept touching that massive engagement ring like it burned.
“Ready, cara“”
She started slightly. “Of course”
The drive downtown was silent. Usually, she’d have some sharp conument about my controlling nature or another decorating catastrophe planned. Today, nothing
I watched her reflection in the tinted windows. She was looking at her phone again, trying to be subtle about it. My own phone buzzed – a message from Marco, my head of security.
Mark Sullivan landed at City Airport three days ago. Staying at The Grand Hotel Multiple gallery meetings scheduled
My fingers tightened on the phone. Mark Sullivan. The photographer. The ex–boytrend who d almost ruined everything three years ago by trying to convince my fiancee to run away with him. The one whose Instagram sull displayed their relationship like a digital shrine to what he’ll lost.
What I’d gained.
The Business Alliance’s grand ballroom was packed with the city’s elite -hankers, developers, old money families presending they weren’t just coupe as the rest of us. I took the podium, adjusting my halian silk tie with practiced precision.
The crowd hung on every word. They should–I’d spent weeks crafting this speech, hitting every point that would resonate with their greed disguised as civic pride. Promise them prosperity, security, and just enough reform to ease their gaih about their offshore accounts.
“Together,” I concluded, “we’ll build a legacy our children will be proud to inherit.”
Applause thundered through the room. Icaught Lucia’s eye in the front row, but she quickly looked away, checking her phone again. The motion made my jaw clench
Brandy Levy from the City Chronicle stood up first, her red lipstick curved in a predatory smile “Mr. Romanol The public is dying to know— how’s the engagement? Any details about the wedding of the year!
I gestured to Lurn, watching her perfectly marked expression as she joined me “Come here, amore”
She moved with that natural grace that had first caught my eye, her navy dress highlighting every curve. I wrapped my arm around her waist, feeling the tension in her muscles as she pressed against me
“We couldn’t be happier,” I said smoothly, my fingers tightening slightly on her hip. The wedding plans are coming along beautifully, Right, cara?”
She turned her for up to mine, a smile that would fool anyone who hadn’t spent hours studying her expressions. “Absolutely. Dante’s been incredibly involved in every detail.”
“Any inth to the rumors about a Christmas wedding? Another reporter called out
Ichuckled, playing the besotted fiance. “We’re still finalizing the dinte. But when you find the right person.” 1 looked down at Lucia, catching that distant look in her eyes. Like she was seeing someone else’s fire. “You don’t want to wail”
She stiffened slightly against me. To anyone else, it would’ve been imperceptible. To me, it was like a gunshot.
Back in the car, I opened the file Marco had sent, my blood burning as read. Mark Sullivan’s career had exploded–solo shows in Paris, London, New York. His latest collection, “Lost Light,” had sold out in hours. Critics praised his “raw emotional honesty” and “unflinching exploration of love
and loss.”
The kind of preventious artistic success that would appeal to Lucia’s romantic soul. Her dreams of making beatiful things, of changing the world through her foundation’s work.
I looked at her profile as she stared out the window, her fingers twisting that massive engagement ring. My rag
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Chapter 3–Lose Control
“You seem distracted today.” I said carefully, measuring each word. “The press conferenc
“I’m tired,” she replied without turning. “It’s been a long week.”
I’d learned her tells that first night–the way she bit her lower lip, the slight tremor in her voice. She was thinking about him. About the life she could have had if her family hadn’t chosen power over love
Back at the penthouse, I waited until she’d started toward her suite before speaking. I trust you remember the sens of our contract!”
She paused, one hand on the banister. “Which part? The one where I play dutiful fiance or the one where you own my life for two year?”
“The part about maintaining appropriate relationships during our engagement.”
She tumed slowly, something dangerous flickering in her eyes. “Meaning”
“Meaning I won’t have my fiancee seen with other men. I would damage the campaign.”
“The campaign.” She laughed, but it held no humor. “Always the campaign.”
“This isn’t a game, Lucia.” Imoved closer, watching her chin lift defiantly. “Your family’s future depends on this alliance. On us presenting a sunited
“Is that a threat?”
“A reminder.” I kept my voice cold, controlled, even as jealousy burned through my veins. “Whatever or whoever is distracting you Hop Now.”
Her eyes flashed. You don’t own me.
I walked away before I could do something stupid like kiss her
needs
I walked to my room, pulling up the Ele on my tablet. One call. That’s all it would take. The Grand Hotel could suddenly find rode violations. requiring immediate evacumion. Those gallery meetings could mysteriously cancel Building permits for his upcoming exhibition could get…. delayed.
01
I had bust this
this cny’s permit system. I owned half its hotels. One word from me, and Mark Sullivan’s triumphant retum would turn into a nightmare.
My finger hovered over Marco’s number.
No. Not yet
And when I struck, it would be perfect.
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