The meeting was not held in a boardroom.
It was held in a penthouse.
Neutral ground.
Or at least that was what Keller Industries called it.
Elena stepped out of the private elevator beside Adrian, her spine straight, her pulse steady. The glass doors opened into a private dining suite overlooking the river, dimly lit and deliberately intimate.
This wasn’t negotiation space.
This was psychological space.
Keller wanted tension.
He would get control instead.
Dominic Keller stood near the window, tall, silver-haired at the temples, power stitched into every line of his tailored navy suit. Beside him—
Clara.
Of course.
She wore ivory tonight. Not red.
Calculated.
Innocent.
Untouched.
Elena felt Adrian’s hand press lightly at her lower back.
Grounding.
Aligned.
“Adrian,” Kelle
