Page 58 of Dominant

Chapter 15

Controlling Interest

Alexander

I reached the address tagged in Stephanie’s Instagram post - a former factory that had been converted to large, industrial lofts in the same neighbourhood as Jordan’s apartment building. I parked the Porsche, wary that I would come out later to find it mounted on cement blocks, and pulled the exterior door open. I followed the loud sound of pounding, indistinct music up a wide set of metal stairs.

Three underdressed girls in their early twenties passed me on their way down, squealing and clinging to each other drunkenly.

“Hello!” said one of them, looking me over and winking.

“Someone’s dad’s here to get them,” joked another.

“Someone’s sexy as fuck dad,” corrected the third.

“Evening,” I said to them, with a small smile and a nod, opening the door to the second floor.

“Hey mister!” yelled back the one who had looked me over.

“Yes?” I said politely - a little indulgently.

“You going to Amber’s party?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Amber’s party. Yes.”

“Okay, fucking amazing. I’m going to find you!” She made the I’m-watching-you gesture, pointing to her eyes and then to me, and her girlfriends collapsed in hysterics.

“Okay,” I said, with a half smile, and turned around.

“I love you!” she called after me, to more hysterics.

The loft door was open, people spilling out into the hallway, and I walked right in. I’d been quickly preparing a story about how I knew “Amber,” but it immediately became apparent I didn’t have to. The party was packed to the walls.

I threaded my way through the crowd, looking for Jordan’s dark hair. I knew from Stephanie’s photo that she was wearing it down, and had a blue shirt on.

“Hey!” A hand grabbed my arm. Looking down, I saw Stephanie, whom I recognized more from her photo than from having seen her the other day. She was wearing heavy eye makeup and had her hair in big curls.

“Aren’t you Jordan’s boss?”

I nodded. “Stephanie, right? Is she here?”

She looked at me skeptically. “What is she, like, supposed to be at work right now?”

“I just need to talk to her.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh God. You men are all the same. Well, you’re too late. She’s “talking” to someone else right now.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Where?”

“Pretty sure they want to be alone right now, dude,” she said with a laugh, and walked past me, ending the conversation.

I was livid.

Quit Abbott Holding, ignore my calls, fine. But she’d made a promise to me. I’d laid a claim on her. No one could have what was mine without consequences. I hadn’t become rich without having a strong sense of ownership.

I scanned the room - easily, since I was taller than nearly everyone else there - and saw a hallway on the far side of the large, open-concept space.

“Hey, Don Draper!” called a familiar voice to my left. I looked down to see the girl from the stairwell, flanked by her two friends. “Are you a cop?”

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