Dominic Sinclair paced back and forth in his private study, a large space where he handled both the shady and the clean dealings in his home. The richly decorated room did little to soothe his frayed nerves.
The walls were lined with dark mahogany bookshelves, filled with leather-bound volumes that Dominic had never read. They were for show, much like the man himself—a display of power, wealth, and an intimidating presence. His face was a mask of anger and disbelief, his mind struggling to comprehend his daughter's resistance.
It's been days since he visited Bentley Sterling's mansion but he has not been himself ever since. His daughter was stubborn, yes, but this, this was the height of it.
His right-hand man, Mizon, stood by the window, watching his boss with a mixture of concern and
