MISTRESS OF MILLIONS

THE QUEEN BREAKS THE PAWN The quiet in the boardroom of Devaux Innovations was never by chance. It was made. She made it happen. Camille Devaux was at the head of the obsidian conference table, with her hands folded and her back straight. Her face showed quiet disdain. The woman wore power like silk: smooth, elegant, and brutal. The storm that was brewing behind her on London's skyline matched her charcoal suit. Everyone at the table was tense and out of breath. And one man was about to fall down. "Mr. Hayden," she said in a calm voice with a smooth French accent, "do you know how much a fifteen-second delay in a live defense simulation costs?" Lawrence Hayden, a middle-aged department head in charge of strategic tech integration, shifted uncomfortably across from her. Sweat beads lined his forehead. "Ms. Devaux, I..." "Four hundred and seventy-three thousand pounds," she said coldly. "And faith. The kind that takes years to make. The kind I don't give away. He tried to get better. "It was a mistake in the system." Our firewall... She snapped, "I don't want to hear excuses." "You had one job: to keep our new urban drone project safe." You were told last month. You cost us a partner in defense this time. The other executives stayed quiet and didn't look at each other. "Pack your things," she said finally, calm and without mercy. "You're done here." Hayden stood up, looking shaken. "But I've been faithful..." "Loyalty does not equal skill." She looked away from him and spoke to her assistant. "Nadia, security will take Mr. Hayden out." "Yes, ma'am," Nadia said, already texting. Hayden's leaving sounded like a ritual in the room. Camille got up. The meeting is over. Later, Camille's Private Floor The doors to her office on the penthouse level closed behind her with a soft thud. The glass walls inside framed London's skyline like a painting: gray, gloomy, and imperial. She went straight to the bar and poured herself a shot of armagnac. Nadia came in quietly, her heels making no noise on the imported wood floors. Nadia was tall, sharp, and beautiful. She wore a sleek navy suit and her loyalty like armor. She gave Camille a tablet computer. "Clean sweep." The press hasn't picked it up. HR will take care of the memo. Camille drank. "I don't want the media to turn a punishment into a scandal." "Keep it sealed." Nadia's eyes stayed on him. "You were very intense today." Camille gave her a look. "Should I have let him stay?" "No." "He didn't care." A break. "But you've been meaner lately." Camille turned her back on him. "I don't have time for softness." Flashback: The Accident (Camille, 4 years old) Before hitting the tree, the car spun three times. She could still smell the gas. Her mother's screams. Her father's lack of words. She had screamed and screamed, but by the time they got her out of the wreckage, her father was dead. Chilly. Bleeding. Eyes wide open to nothing. Her mother would die of cancer in a private hospital in Paris years later. And what about Camille? She learned how to walk through pain without making a sound. Present: Shadows in the Evening Camille went back to her desk. The holographic design of her new ultra-private country estate, which had six buildings, a security moat, and layers below ground, hovered over the table. A project that has been in the works for years. But she still didn't have the final plan for the glass tower in the middle. She needed something that would inspire her. Be quiet. Alone. Nadia made a noise in her throat. "You still haven't given the go-ahead to an architect." Camille's eyes moved over the list of candidates on her screen. Then stopped. JULIAN CROSS. She didn't know the name, but his designs were... unique. Not synthetic. Not sorry. His lines were hungry. An elegant, rough, manly look. "Freelance?" she asked. "Yes." Before the company went out of business, he worked for his father's company. He works on his own now. Stays out of the spotlight. Camille tapped the file to open it. She quietly looked over his work. Then: "Get him in here." Nadia blinked. "Me?" "Bring him to my office." Tomorrow. "Eight sharp." Julian—First Look Julian Cross stood at a dusty worktable in his small design studio in the middle of the city. He had on old jeans, a white shirt that was rolled up, and thin reading glasses that were balanced on the bridge of his nose. His phone rang. Number not known. He said something. "Julian Cross is talking." A woman's voice, clear and calm, said, "Mr. Cross, this is Devaux Innovations." Ms. Camille Devaux has looked over your work and would like to talk about a private job. Julian blinked. "Camille Devaux?" "Yes." Tomorrow. "8 A.M. Sharp." After that, the line went dead. He stared at the screen, confused and curious, and then he realized that his life was about to change in ways he couldn't have imagined. Two Worlds Get Ready Camille stood on her private balcony, and the wind wrapped around her like silk ribbons. She sipped her drink and looked down at the city. Her face was unreadable. Julian took out one of his old sketchbooks across town. He turned to a blank page. The name Devaux was already ringing in his ears. He didn't know what kind of woman had called him. But something told him... It was hard to forget her.