Reid
Switzerland was colder than I remembered. Or maybe it was just me.
The glass-walled conference room overlooked Lake Geneva, its icy surface reflecting the pale winter sun. Beyond it, the snow-capped Alps stood sharp against a cloudless blue sky — beautiful, imposing, unmoving.
It should’ve been calming. Impressive, even.
But all I felt was restless.
Because my phone sat face-down on the table, and I was forcing myself not to check it.
“Mr. Callahan?”
I looked up, masking my distraction with practiced ease. My expression was unreadable — the kind I’d perfected over years of negotiations and high-stakes deals.
“Go on,” I said coolly.
The man across from me — some European financier with too much confidence and not enough leverage — shifted nervously under my gaze. The room was
