Alex sat at the head of the dining table, picking at his food. The other seats were empty. Xavier and Thomas had left to prepare for tomorrow's Met Gala.
He stabbed the red steak with his fork repeatedly, his other hand gripping a glass of wine. His face was blank, eyes fixed on the steak, but his mind was far away.
*The Consortium.*
The thought kept circling back, relentless. Emma and Diane were handled now. But in front of him stood a faceless organization. People he didn't know. Threats he couldn't predict. Strikes that could come from anywhere, anytime.
He inhaled sharply, trying to refocus. He should be thinking about tomorrow. How to handle his public appearance. How to shift the media narrative after his...
His fist tightened around the wine glass.
The day he'd found out abou
