The Hay-Adams hotel was the kind of place where secrets were traded over crystal decanters of scotch and the wallpaper cost more than a mid-sized sedan.
Alexander didn't wait for the concierge. He walked through the lobby with the stride of a man who owned the air everyone else was breathing. Liam followed a step behind, his hand resting inside his suit jacket—a silent warning to anyone brave enough to stop them.
"Room 402," Liam muttered as they reached the elevator. "Registered to a shell corporation, but my contact in housekeeping confirmed Sterling checked in three hours ago."
Elara adjusted the cuffs of her silk blouse. Her heart was a drum in her chest, but her face was a mask of icy composure. She had spent a lifetime being afraid of Richard Sterling's quiet, manipulative disapproval. Today, she was going to burn his house down.
The elevator doors chimed. Alexander led her down the carpeted hall and stopped in front of the double mahogany doors of the Presidential Suite.
He didn't knock. He kicked the door once, the lock splintering with a violent crack that echoed through the quiet hallway.
"Richard!" Alexander's voice was a low, dangerous rumble as he pushed the doors open.
The suite was bathed in the warm glow of a fireplace. A table was set for three, the smell of seared steak and expensive wine filling the room.
Richard Sterling sat at the head of the table, looking every bit the distinguished statesman in a navy cardigan, a glass of red wine in his hand. He didn't look surprised. He didn't even look annoyed.
"Alexander. Elara," Richard said, his voice as smooth and oily as she remembered. "You're late for dinner. I was beginning to think the FAB had detained you at the airport."
"The FAB is a nuisance, Richard," Alexander said, walking into the center of the room, his eyes scanning every shadow. "But you... you're a disease. And I've come to provide the cure."
"Such dramatics," Richard sighed, setting his glass down. "I'm merely a father looking out for his daughter's interests. Since you've seen fit to throw my son-in-law in a cage, I had to step in."
"Son-in-law?" Elara stepped forward, her eyes flashing. "Julian isn't family, Richard. He's a criminal. And you're his architect."
"Now, now, Elara," a new voice drawled from the shadows of the balcony. "Is that any way to talk about the man you were supposed to marry?"
Elara froze. The air left her lungs as a figure stepped into the light.
Julian Cross.
He wasn't in a jumpsuit. He wasn't bruised. He was wearing a fresh suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, a smug, punchable smirk back on his face. He held a legal document in his hand, waving it like a trophy.
"Surprised?" Julian sneered, walking toward them. He stopped a safe distance from Alexander, hiding behind the physical presence of the dining table. "The FAB decided that the evidence against me was... 'procedurally compromised.' It turns out the Vance family accounts are so messy that it's impossible to prove what was a forgery and what was just poor management by a 'stressed' heiress."
"A technicality," Alexander hissed, his hand moving toward his shoulder holster.
"A federal immunity deal," Richard corrected, standing up. "Julian has agreed to testify as a star witness in the FAB's audit against you, Alexander. He's going to tell them exactly how you coerced Elara into a marriage of convenience to facilitate a hostile takeover of the Cross family majority."
Julian leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a sickly, vengeful light. "I'm going to tell them you threatened me, Alexander. I'm going to tell them you forced Elara to frame me. By the time I'm done, you'll be the one in a cage, and I'll be the court-appointed administrator of the Vance-Cross merger."
The trap was perfect. Richard provided the legal cover, and Julian provided the lies. Together, they were using the government to perform a legal execution.
Julian looked at Elara, his gaze dragging over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "Don't worry, darling. Once he's gone, I might even be persuaded to take you back. As a mistress, of course. You always did look better in black."
Alexander moved so fast the air seemed to crack.
He didn't pull his gun. He lunged across the table, his hand wrapping around Julian's throat and slamming him back into the sideboard. Crystal glasses shattered, raining shards of glass onto the floor.
"I should have finished you at the estate," Alexander growled, his face inches from Julian's terrified eyes.
"Go ahead!" Julian choked out, a frantic, hysterical laugh escaping him. "Do it! There's an FAB surveillance team in the room next door! Kill me in front of them and prove every word I said is true!"
Alexander's grip tightened, his knuckles white. He could end it right now. One twist, and the nightmare would be over.
"Alexander, stop!" Elara shouted.
Alexander froze. He looked back at her, his eyes wild with a lethal, dark fire.
"He's bait," Elara said, her voice trembling but certain. She looked at Richard, who was calmly watching the scene as if it were a theater performance. "Richard wants you to kill him. He wants the 'Ruthless Alexander Cross' to show his face. That's the only way their testimony works."
Elara walked over to Alexander, placing her hand on his arm. The heat of his rage was radiating off him in waves.
"Let him go," she whispered. "We don't win this with blood. We win this with the one thing Julian and Richard don't have."
"And what's that?" Julian wheezed as Alexander slowly, loathingly, released his grip.
Elara looked Julian dead in the eye, a cold, beautiful smile touching her lips.
"A paper trail that goes both ways."
She turned to Richard. "You think you're the only one who has been prepping a contingency plan? I have my mother's private journals, Richard. The ones you thought you burned. The ones that detail exactly how much money you've been siphoning into Julian's startup for the last five years."
Richard's smug expression finally flickered.
"You're not here to save Julian," Elara stated, her voice rising with power. "You're here to bury him so he doesn't talk about your embezzlement. And I think the FAB would be very interested to know that their star witness's 'immunity' was bought with stolen Vance money."
The tide in the room shifted. Julian's eyes darted to Richard, a sudden, sharp doubt flickering in his gaze.
"Richard?" Julian asked, his voice trembling.
"Shut up, Julian," Richard snapped, his composure finally cracking.
Alexander stepped back to Elara's side, his arm wrapping possessively around her waist. He looked at the two men—the coward and the snake—and let out a low, dark chuckle.
"You heard my wife," Alexander said, the predator returning to his voice. "We're leaving. But before we go..."
Alexander reached onto the table, picked up the bottle of eighty-year-old scotch, and poured it slowly over Julian's fresh suit.
"Enjoy the dinner," Alexander purred. "It's the last meal you'll ever have as a free man."