The boardroom felt like it had been dipped in ice. Twelve pairs of eyes drilled into me while Elena stood in the doorway, her face pale but determined. Lance’s hand on my thigh under the table tightened until I was sure it would bruise, but I didn’t dare pull away.
“FBI?” Lance repeated, voice calm and lethal, the same tone he used when he was deciding whose bones to break. “They can wait.”
Mr. Hargrove, the chairman, cleared his throat. “Mr. Bistros, this is serious. If there’s any truth to the rumors linking our company to… organized crime—”
“There isn’t,” Lance cut him off smoothly, the billionaire mask back in place. “And if anyone in this room leaks one more word about my personal life or my company’s alleged ‘ties,’ I will personally ensure you never work in this city again.”
The
