The moment Vivian Sinclair rose from her chair, her gaze collided with Quinn Thorne's. "You have thirty million dollars?"
The sharp c***k of paper hitting wood answered her question. Quinn slapped the cashier's check—the one Victoria Ashford had given him—face-up on the desk. Thirty million, printed in crisp black ink for anyone to read.
A man who let a woman look down on him wasn't much of a man at all.
Vivian studied the check for a long moment, then lifted her eyes back to his. "This Saturday, eight in the morning. Meet me outside the lobby on the ground floor. I'm taking you to an event, and you're going to prove yourself to me." Quinn was already halfway to the door when her voice caught him again. "And change your clothes. Wear a proper suit."
He left the Sinclair Gemstone Group
