The heavy silence that followed Kendra Hayes' entry was entirely different from the toxic screaming matches of the Sullivan family.
It was the cold, clinical silence of an execution.
Mason didn't move an inch from his position in front of me. His broad shoulders were squared, his posture locked like iron as his shadow completely covered me. The heat radiating off his body was intense, but his face was an unreadable, lethal mask.
"Fifty-one percent," Mason repeated, his deep baritone dropping into a register so low and dangerous it vibrated through the floorboards. "The European Apex Syndicate doesn't have the regulatory clearance to acquire controlling shares of a domestic logistics firm. That deal is illegal."
Kendra smiled—a sharp, stunning expression that didn't reach her hazel
