Between Two Brothers

CHAPTER 14.

ISLA'S POV

The morning light slanted sharply through the penthouse windows, casting long shadows across the marble floors of the Blackthorne Group tower. I arrived early, armed with more than just coffee and determination. After last night’s public spectacle at the Savoy and the charged almost-kiss in the office, something inside me had shifted. I was done playing the perfect victim. Resilience wasn’t enough anymore. It was time to push back.

Serena was already in fine form, holding court near the executive break room with two junior analysts. Her voice carried as I approached my desk.

“—and really, the standards have slipped. Some people think showing up in last season’s gown and batting their lashes is enough to climb the ladder. Pathetic, isn’t it?”

I set my bag down with deliberate calm and turned toward her, projecting my voice just enough to draw the nearby staff’s attention. “Speaking of standards, Serena, I noticed the Q3 investor reports you forwarded yesterday had three critical errors in the financial projections. One of them could’ve tanked the Tokyo pitch if I hadn’t caught them during the final review.” I held up my tablet, screen facing the small audience that had gathered. “Fixed them at 2 a.m. You’re welcome.”

A few analysts exchanged glances. One—Marcus, a quiet numbers guy who’d always kept his head down—actually nodded. “She’s right. I saw the revisions this morning. Solid catches, Isla.”

Serena’s perfectly painted smile faltered. “That’s hardly—”

“Hardly your oversight?” I interrupted smoothly, keeping my tone professional but edged. “Of course not. But since I’m the one cleaning up after high-level prep, perhaps next time you could run the numbers past someone who actually understands them. Or I’d be happy to tutor you on basic reconciliation. Free of charge.”

Low murmurs of reluctant approval rippled through the group. Serena’s cheeks flushed an ugly red beneath her flawless makeup. She opened her mouth for a retort, but Marcus spoke first.

“Appreciate the save, Harlow. Saved us a headache with the board.”

It was a small win—tiny, really—but it felt monumental. Serena stormed off with a huff, heels clicking furiously. For the first time in weeks, I allowed myself a quiet breath of satisfaction. I wasn’t just surviving. I was starting to carve space.

Dare emerged from his office shortly after, his presence commanding the floor as always. His dark eyes found me immediately, lingering a beat too long on the way my tailored blouse hugged my frame. The memory of his hand in my hair last night hung between us like smoke.

“Harlow,” he said, voice clipped but lacking its usual cruelty. “My office, now! We’re working the full Mercer acquisition file today.

I raised an eyebrow but followed, tablet in hand. The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us in the sleek, intimidating space. He gestured to the small conference table by the windows rather than his desk, close quarters, side by side. Stacks of documents, two laptops, and a large monitor awaited.

“Less sabotaged than usual,” I noted dryly, taking my seat. Our knees brushed under the table. “Should I be suspicious?”

Dare’s lips twitched—the ghost of a smirk. “Consider it a test of your actual capabilities. Not the errands designed to break you.” He slid a thick binder toward me. “Mercer. We need every weakness identified, every leverage point mapped. You handle the financials. I’ll take legal. Cross-reference everything.”

The hours blurred into a tense, intimate collaboration. We worked shoulder to shoulder, the city skyline sprawling beyond the glass like a silent witness. Dare’s arm would occasionally brush mine as he reached for a document. His cedar scent wrapped around me, stirring memories I fought to suppress. Every correction he made came with low, murmured commentary.

“You’re sharper than I gave you credit for,” he admitted at one point, leaning close to point at a line in the projections. His breath warmed my ear. “This pivot point here—most analysts miss it. You didn’t.”

“Six years under Victor taught me to look for the knives hidden in the fine print,” I replied, refusing to lean away. Our eyes met, the tension crackled. “Unlike some people who apparently learned to wield them.”

He didn’t rise to the bait immediately. Instead, we dove back in, dialogue sharp and professional on the surface but laced with undercurrents. When I challenged one of his legal interpretations, he listened—really listened—before conceding with a reluctant nod.

“You’re right,” he said, voice low. “Adjust it. Your angle strengthens our position.”

Small victories stacked. By mid-afternoon, the reluctant respect I’d glimpsed on the floor extended here, in this glass cage. Dare watched me differently. Not just as prey, but as an equal sparring partner. It unnerved me how much I craved that look.

A quiet lull fell as the sun dipped lower. We’d ordered in lunch earlier, but now the table was scattered with half-empty containers and endless papers. Dare leaned back in his chair, loosening his tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone. The vulnerability from last night flickered again.

“Spain wasn’t just business,” he said suddenly, staring out at the skyline. His voice was quieter than I’d ever heard it. “Elena Voss… she wasn’t a choice. Victor presented it as the only way to save the European expansion. Threats to the family, rivals circling. I played the part. Photos, dinners, the rumors. But there were nights I—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching hard. The crack in his armor showed: raw regret, exhaustion, the boy I’d loved buried under years of control. “It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done.”

I turned toward him, our knees pressing together under the table. “It does matter, Dare. If it was forced, why believe the worst about me? Why let Julian’s lies or Victor’s win?”

His hand moved before he could stop it, fingers tracing the edge of my wrist on the table. The touch was light but electric. “Because believing you’d betrayed me made it easier to become this.” He gestured vaguely at the empire around us. “The cold bastard who could survive it. Seeing you with him last night… it cracked everything open again. I almost lost control in that ballroom.”

The tension thickened, intimate and heavy. His eyes dropped to my lips, then back up. For a heartbeat, I thought he might close the distance again, pick up where we’d left off last night. My pulse raced. Part of me wanted it—the release, the truth in the fire.

But he pulled back, shutting down like a vault slamming closed. “We have work to finish.” The mask returned, cold and commanding, though the crack lingered in the tightness around his eyes.

We powered through the final hours in charged silence, broken only by clipped exchanges about figures and clauses. By the time the city lights twinkled below, the Mercer file was stronger than either of us could have managed alone. Reluctant respect hung in the air between us, fragile but real.

I was gathering my things when the intercom buzzed. Victor’s senior assistant, voice crisp and impersonal.

“Mr. Blackthorne requires Isla Harlow in his office immediately. He is at the top floor. Do not keep him waiting.”

Dare’s head snapped up, his expression darkening. “What the hell does he want now?”

I swallowed hard, nerves coiling tight. “Only one way to find out.”

The private elevator to Victor’s domain felt like descending into a dragon’s lair. When the doors opened, Victor Alistair Blackthorne sat behind his monolithic desk, the London skyline a conquered kingdom at his back. His sharp eyes assessed me like a specimen under glass.

Victor steepled his fingers, studying me for a long moment. “You’ve proven… resilient. More than I anticipated when I terminated your previous role. Darian’s little project with you has not gone unnoticed.”

I kept my voice steady. “If this is about the Mercer file, we—”

“This is about family,” he interrupted smoothly. “Bigger secrets than office games or childish rivalries between my son and nephew.” A cold smile touched his lips. “Are you prepared for what happens when the past stops staying buried, girl?”