CHAPTER SIX
579 Words
Senator Weld
"I've been hearing things, Valecrest."
"Senator." Zaire leaned back in his chair, phone pressed to his ear, eyes on the Manhattan skyline. He had learned over six years of careful dealings with Harris Weld that the Senator never called without purpose and never stated that purpose directly. Everything came wrapped in warmth and implication. The skill was in unwrapping it without letting on that you were.
"Good things. My office picked up some chatter with a name attached to yours. Foxley. The fashion woman." A pause. "Tell me that's moving in the right direction."
"The announcement goes out Thursday."
A deep satisfied laugh. "I knew you were a man who got things done. The committee meets in six weeks. I want them to see you settled, Valecrest. A man who has something to protect beyond his portfolio."
Zaire kept his expression neutral. "I understand what you need, Senator."
"What I need," Weld said, his voice shifting still warm but with something underneath it now, something with more weight, "is for this deal to go smoothly. There are people on that committee who have been looking for a reason to push back on Valecrest Group for a long time. Don't give them one."
"I don't intend to."
"Good. Good." The warmth returned, seamless. "My charity dinner is in three weeks. Bring her. Let them see you together in person."
A brief knock at his office door. Marcus entered and placed a single sheet on the desk without a word.
A name. Carter Nash. Weld's senior aide. And beneath it, three words: Offshore account flagged.
"And Valecrest " Weld was saying, "make it look real."
"Of course," Zaire said smoothly. "Looking forward to it, Senator."
He ended the call and picked up Marcus's sheet.
Carter Nash. Thirty-eight. Weld's right hand for six years. Clean public record. And an offshore account in the Caymans that had received three significant deposits in the last fourteen months.
Fourteen months.
The same timeline as the acquisition group building its position against Elara.
He set the paper down.
Weld needed this deal. Weld's aide had unexplained offshore income beginning exactly when someone started constructing a financial trap around the woman now living in his penthouse.
He thought about the anonymous message. You're being used and you don't even know it yet.
He thought about Sebastian Vance outside Elara's building. About shell companies three layers deep.
Too many threads. Too many directions.
Someone wanted him looking everywhere at once.
He picked up his phone. "Marcus. I need everything on Carter Nash. Before the charity dinner.”
He set the phone down and looked at the announcement draft sitting at the corner of his desk reviewed and approved that morning, scheduled to go live Thursday at 7 PM. Clean. Deliberate. The kind of thing that looked effortless because everything behind it had been carefully constructed not to.
Simple is more believable.
He thought about Elara signing the contract at her kitchen counter. Twelve pages read twice with a highlighter. The woman who negotiated terms for her own protection with the same focused precision she brought to everything else.
She had no idea how many people were already watching her.
He looked at Marcus's sheet one final time. Nash. Fourteen months. Three deposits.
Whatever threads Nash and Sebastian Vance and the anonymous messages were all connected to. He needed answers before that announcement made Elara Foxley the most visible target in the city.
He had three days.
- Writer
