The roar of the helicopter blades deafened the city skyline as the black chopper landed on the rooftop pad of Vance Tower.
The wind tossed Clara’s hair, but she stood straight, her wrapped wrist hidden beneath the cuff of her emerald shirt. Beside her, Alexander stepped onto the roof, looking less like a CEO and more like a man walking into a war zone.
He reached down, his fingers locking firmly into hers. "Stay behind me when the doors open," he murmured over the engine whine. "Let them look. Do not speak until I give the word."
"I’m not hiding, Alexander," Clara said, her eyes flashing. "I want Julian to see my face when he falls."
A dark flash of approval hit his eyes. "Good. Then let’s go get his crown."
Down on the 90th floor, the boardroom was a pressure cooker.
Julian Vance sa
