Ryan Brooks noticed Emily's gaze lingering on the window long after the Thompson cars had disappeared into the night. Her fingers gripped the champagne flute too tightly, her knuckles white against the crystal.
"Don't look so worried," Ryan said, stepping closer. His cheek still bore the red mark of Jack's hand, but his confidence had returned—bolstered by alcohol and anger. "The Eastvale Project isn't lost yet."
Emily turned to him, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
Ryan smiled, straightening his tie with practiced casualness. "My father had a meeting with Olivia West last week. From Alphacrest Group."
Emily's breath caught. "Olivia West? You're not serious."
"Dead serious," Ryan replied, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "They're considering a ten-billion-dollar stake in th
