TERMS OF ATTRACTION

EXHAUSTED, AS EXPECTED

By the time I got home, exhaustion had settled into every inch of me.

I dropped my keys onto the console table and slipped off my heels before walking farther into the apartment.

The silence was almost comforting.

Almost.

My mind was still stuck on the documents sitting inside my office. The purchases that didn't quite belong. And my father's words from that morning.

I need to identify where the issue began before it becomes something larger.

I walked toward the private bar tucked against the far wall and poured myself a glass of red wine.

If there was one thing I had learned from my father, it was that numbers rarely lied.

People did.

I took a slow sip and stared through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Manhattan glittered below me, completely unaware that somewhere inside one of its most established companies, something wasn't adding up.

And I intended to find out what.

My phone rang.

I looked down.

Cassandra.

I smiled.

"Hello?"

"Finally!" Cassandra's voice practically exploded through the speaker. "I have been calling you for the past five minutes."

"I was enjoying the luxury of ignoring people."

"That's cute. How was work?"

"Terrible."

"Excellent. You sound miserable enough to entertain me."

I laughed.

"You're a horrible friend."

"I prefer honest."

"You're definitely something."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"I accepted it as one."

I dropped onto the sofa, wine still in hand.

Cassandra immediately launched into a ridiculous story about something that had happened earlier that day, complete with terrible impressions and dramatic pauses.

By the time she reached the end, I was laughing so hard I had to put my glass down.

"Wait," I managed between laughs. "You actually said that to her?"

"I panicked!"

"You don't panic."

"I panicked that day."

"You're unbelievable."

"I know. That's why you love me."

I shook my head, smiling.

For twenty minutes, Cassandra managed to make me forget about spreadsheets, missing balances, suspicious transactions, and the responsibility sitting on my shoulders.

That was one of the things I loved about her.

She never asked me to stop being serious.

She simply reminded me that I didn't have to be serious every second.

Eventually, we said our goodnights.

I placed my phone beside me and let out a quiet breath.

The smile faded.

My company.

My future.

Everything I had been prepared for since childhood.

My parents had never hidden what was expected of me. Du Monté Holdings wasn't simply something I would inherit one day. I was supposed to build on it.

Expand it.

Protect it.

Make it bigger than my parents ever had.

And I wanted that.

I wanted to look back ten years from now and know that I had earned every inch of my position.

Which was exactly why I couldn't ignore what I'd found.

Something was wrong.

I just had to figure out what.

---

By the time I reached my bedroom, I was ready to forget business existed.

I changed out of my clothes and slipped into a short red silk nightgown, the fabric falling softly against me. I tied the matching black silk robe around my waist, then gathered my hair into a messy bun.

I reached for my night glasses and settled them onto my face.

There.

Much better.

I climbed onto my bed, grabbed my tablet from the nightstand, and pulled the blankets over my legs.

I opened my emails first.

Nothing urgent.

A few business updates.

A couple of messages from people who apparently believed I enjoyed receiving emails after ten at night.

I closed everything and opened my browser instead.

I wasn't looking for anything in particular.

Then I saw an article.

THE SMART WAY TO BUSINESS

My curiosity won.

I tapped it.

The article was surprisingly good.

Not the usual recycled corporate advice people dressed up with complicated vocabulary to sound intelligent.

It talked about building companies that could survive beyond their founders.

Long-term thinking.

Strategic growth.

Knowing when to expand and when to hold back.

I found myself actually paying attention.

Finally. Someone who knows what they're talking about.

I scrolled toward the bottom.

Then I saw the name.

Alexander Dale.

CEO, Dale Company.

My eyebrows lifted.

Oh.

Him.

I'd met Alexander recently at an event for young executives, heirs, and entrepreneurs taking control of their businesses.

I'd heard his name before.

Everyone had.

Alexander Dale had a reputation for being brilliant, difficult, and almost painfully reserved.

The brilliant part, apparently, was deserved.

The difficult part?

I could personally confirm.

My mind went back to that evening.

---

I'd approached him after his panel because, despite everything I'd heard, I had actually liked what he'd said.

He'd been standing near one of the tall windows overlooking the city, a glass of wine untouched in his hand.

He was hard to miss.

Six-foot-four.

Immaculately dressed.

Dark hair.

Grey eyes.

The kind of presence that made people notice him before they even realized they'd done it.

I had walked over because I genuinely wanted to compliment his presentation.

"Your points about expansion were interesting."

He looked down at me.

Not at my face.

Down.

Like he'd only just noticed someone had entered his airspace.

"Thank you."

That was it.

I waited.

He looked back toward the window.

I blinked.

Okay.

I tried again.

"I especially liked what you said about companies expanding too quickly", I added with a smile.

Another glance down at me.

A pause.

"Mm."

My eyebrows pulled together.

"Was that a complete sentence?" I asked in genuine confusion.

His eyes returned to mine.

There was something almost bored about his expression.

"I suppose."

I stared at him for a second.

"You're welcome, by the way."

"For what?"

"For the compliment."

He looked genuinely confused.

"You don't have to thank me."

"I wasn't thanking you."

"Then what were you doing?"

"I was acknowledging that you said something intelligent."

His mouth twitched.

Barely.

"Generous."

I folded my arms.

"You know, I was actually trying to be nice."

"I noticed."

"And?"

"And what?"

I stared at him. He stared back, completely expressionless.

It was infuriating.

"You're very difficult"

"So I've been told."

"Frequently, I assume."

He glanced down at me again.

"Yes."

I laughed once, mostly out of disbelief.

He looked back toward the window.

I pointed toward him.

"This conversation is officially over."

"Good."

I stared at him.

He stared back.

"Good?"

"You said it was over." He raised an eyebrow in mock confusion.

"Then why are you still here?"

I flashed him a look then turned on my heel and walked away before he could see how badly I wanted to roll my eyes. I didn't have to look back to see the smug look of satisfaction that was probably on his face.

Jerk.

---

I blinked at my tablet already irritated by the memory alone.

I looked down at the article again.

Annoying man.

Surprisingly good writer.

I wasn't about to deny the second simply because of the first.

I finished reading the section, closed the article, and placed my tablet on the nightstand.

The financial discrepancies immediately returned to the front of my mind.

Tomorrow, I'd go through the accounts again.

Every transaction.

Every missing balance.

If someone inside Du Monté Holdings was responsible, I would find them and show them how ruthless I could be.

I adjusted my pillow, pulled the blanket over myself, and switched off the lamp.

The room fell dark, the city lights spilling faintly through the curtains.

Then I closed my eyes and let myself sleep.