Chapter 95 - 94 The Meeting
*** [JULIAN] ***
Pride is an incredibly expensive currency, and my accounts are currently completely empty.
I stand outside the massive glass entrance of Bordeaux 101. The cool evening wind of the financial district pulls at the lapels of my tailored navy suit. I take a deep, shaky breath. The rich aroma of roasted garlic and expensive wine drifts through the sliding doors. It makes me feel physically sick.
I have absolutely no desire to step foot inside this restaurant ever again.
The memories from yesterday evening burn fiercely in my mind. I cornered a restroom janitor. I bowed my head and offered millions of dollars to a terrified old man holding a damp cleaning rag. Emily watched the entire pathetic display and threatened to call the police on me. The sheer, unadulterated humiliation of that moment makes my skin crawl. I want to walk back to my luxury sedan. I want to drive far away from this building and never look at the Asuir skyline again.
"Keep your head high, Julian," Professor Chase says.
He stands next to me on the pristine concrete sidewalk. The older academic wears a brown tweed suit that looks entirely out of place in the wealthy district. His graying hair is combed back neatly. He is completely oblivious to the disastrous events of yesterday. He still believes Thorne Medical is a highly respected entity in this building.
"We have a crucial networking dinner tonight," Professor Chase continues. He checks his gold pocket watch. "Several key investors are dining on the first floor. We need to secure funding for your alternative research and development division."
I nod slowly. The bitter reality of business forces me to walk through these doors. I lost the SN1818 cardiovascular formula entirely. Victor Sterling stole my future right out from under me. If Thorne Medical does not secure new capital immediately, my father will permanently remove me from the executive board.
Chloe links her arm through mine. She wears a sleek, metallic silver dress that clings tightly to her figure. Her blonde hair is styled in perfect, expensive waves. She looks incredibly ambitious.
"Let’s go," Chloe says. Her voice is sharp and eager. "We cannot afford to be late."
I force my legs to move forward. The heavy glass doors slide open. We walk into the opulent, crowded lobby of the restaurant. I keep my head down, praying silently that no one on the cleaning staff recognizes my face.
*** [CHLOE] ***
The lobby of Bordeaux 101 smells like pure money.
I adjust the thin strap of my designer clutch. I scan the crowded room, assessing the wealthy executives and socialites waiting for their tables. Julian walks stiffly beside me. He looks completely miserable. His total failure to secure the medical patent yesterday severely damaged his confidence. He is starting to look like a terrible long-term investment. I need to surround myself with actual winners.
Professor Chase suddenly stops walking. He places a hand on my shoulder and points toward the grand mahogany staircase.
"Look closely," Professor Chase whispers. "That man standing near the velvet ropes is Warren Sinclair. He owns this entire building. He holds massive influence over the Asuir financial sector."
I follow his gaze. My breath catches slightly in my throat.
Warren Sinclair is entirely breathtaking. He wears a bespoke navy blue suit that perfectly matches his striking green eyes. A diamond tie clip flashes under the crystal chandeliers. His light brown hair falls in a deliberate, messy wave across his forehead. He holds a crystal glass of amber liquor. He oozes immense, generational wealth.
"I am going to introduce you both," Professor Chase says. His tone drops into a highly serious, cautious register. "But I need you to listen to me very carefully, Chloe. Do not let his charming smile fool you."
I look at the professor. "What do you mean?"
"He is a ruthless predator," Professor Chase warns me bluntly. "He ruins rival corporations for basic entertainment. He destroys people without a single ounce of hesitation. Be polite, but stay far away from him."
I nod, but I completely ignore the warning. Power is highly attractive.
We walk across the marble floor. Warren turns his head as we approach. His sharp green eyes lock onto our group.
"Professor Chase," Warren greets him. His voice is deep, rich, and incredibly smooth. "A pleasure to see you outside of the university."
"Mr. Sinclair," the professor replies politely. "Allow me to introduce my highly talented associates. This is Julian Thorne, heir to Thorne Medical. And this is my top pupil, Chloe Vance."
Warren’s gaze shifts directly to me. He analyzes my silver dress and my perfectly styled hair in one quick, calculating glance.
"Vance," Warren repeats softly. A slow, highly amused smile spreads across his handsome face. "Ah. You are Emily Vance’s half-sister. The resemblance is not exactly obvious."
A sharp spike of bitter jealousy pierces my chest. I meet the most powerful, attractive billionaire in the entire city, and the very first thing he mentions is my pathetic stepsister.
I force the irritation down. I flash him my most brilliant, captivating smile. I tilt my head slightly, exposing the delicate line of my neck. I turn my charm up to the absolute maximum level.
"Emily and I lead very different lives, Mr. Sinclair," I say sweetly. I step a fraction of an inch closer to him. "I prefer to focus on high-level corporate innovation. I would absolutely love to hear your insights on the current market trends sometime."
I stare directly into his green eyes. I imagine exactly what it would feel like to stand by his side. I imagine marrying a man with his level of untouchable power. Julian is a failing heir fighting for scraps. Warren Sinclair owns the entire table.
Warren looks at my smiling face. His expression does not change. He remains completely and utterly unmoved by my blatant flirting. He views me with the exact same mild detachment a person uses to look at a boring painting.
"Market trends are a tedious conversation for a dinner party," Warren replies smoothly. He dismisses me entirely without raising his voice. He raises his hand and signals a hostess standing nearby. "Please escort Professor Chase and his guests to their reserved table."
He nods once. He turns his back on us and walks away before I can say another word.
*** [WARREN] ***
Desperation has a very distinct, highly unpleasant smell.
I walk away from the grand staircase and head toward the private bar. I take a slow sip of my bourbon. The interaction with Chloe Vance lasted exactly two minutes, and it was two minutes entirely wasted.
She batted her eyelashes and practically threw herself at my expensive shoes. She is completely predictable. She sees a tailored suit and a diamond tie clip, and her greedy little mind immediately starts calculating marriage settlements. She is a boring, empty shell wrapped in a metallic silver dress.
She shares absolutely nothing in common with her half-sister.
I lean against the polished mahogany bar. I swirl the square ice cube in my glass. My thoughts drift immediately back to Emily Vance.
Emily did not bat her eyelashes at Victor Sterling. She slapped him directly across the face to test his emotional discipline. She did not beg for a partnership. She demanded absolute loyalty and casually proposed a global pharmaceutical monopoly. She looked me right in the eyes and told me to get out of her private booth without a single trace of fear.
She is brilliant. She is absolutely ruthless.
A dark, highly entertained smile touches my lips. The contrast between the two sisters is genuinely staggering. Chloe is a cheap imitation of ambition. Emily is the genuine, terrifying reality of it.
Alistair’s harsh warning rings loudly in my memory. He ordered me to stay far away from his wife. He threatened me with the full weight of the Wolfe legacy. He guards her with a violent, primal jealousy that he refuses to logically admit.
I take another drink of bourbon. The alcohol burns a pleasant trail down my throat.
If Emily Vance was not currently wearing Alistair Wolfe’s hidden wedding ring, I would pursue her without a second thought. She is exactly the kind of highly dangerous, unpredictable variable I enjoy analyzing. She would make an incredible partner in crime.
But poking a sleeping dragon is a terrible survival strategy. I will respect the boundary Alistair drew. I am a predator, but I am not suicidal.
Still, Alistair is bringing her back to this restaurant tonight. I get to look her in the eyes and deliver a formal apology for my espionage work. I fully expect her to be entirely unforgiving and aggressively sharp.
I set my empty crystal glass down on the bar counter. I am genuinely looking forward to it.