Page 4 of Born in Fire

I just pray that it stays that way.

Chapter 2

Dorian

I sprawl in the leather chair opposite Caleb’s desk, one leg hooked over the armrest. His jaw twitches at my posture. Classic Caleb—always the guardian of proper etiquette while I’m busy testing how far I can push before he snaps.

The leather creaks as I sink deeper, deliberately scuffing my boot against the pristine upholstery. We might be twins, but he still acts like I’m the unruly teenager who needs constant supervision. And for some reason, I can’t seem to stop myself from antagonizing him.

The muscle in his cheek jumps again.

Almost there.

Good.

The entire forty-eighth floor of Craven Towers screams Caleb—sterile, precise, boring as fuck. Glass and steel, and not a single thing out of place. Even the air feels filtered, like he’sremoved all the particles that might dare disrupt his perfect little kingdom.

The Seattle skyline stretches beyond the windows, all gray and misty, but in here, it’s like time stands still. No dust, no clutter, no sign that an actual living being occupies the space. Just the pristine shrine to corporate power that my dear brother has built himself. It makes my skin itch just being here.

“So, are you going to tell me about what happened this morning?” I cock my head. I walked in on my brother kissing an intern, and he’s been as cagey as fuck about it.

“No,” he blocks me yet again. “The NyxCorp acquisition,” he changes the subject, his back to me as he stares out the windows. “Walk me through the final numbers.”

I roll my eyes at his back. “The same final numbers I emailed you three hours ago? Or did you delete that like the last six reports?”

“Humor me.” He doesn’t turn around.

Control freak.

“Fine.” I pull up the mental spreadsheet—one of the perks of dragon DNA: perfect recall. “We’re getting their tech division at twelve percent below market valuation. Their energy subsidiaries come with a forty-million cash offset to compensate for the Malaysian regulatory complications. The data mining operation stays autonomous for eighteen months, then integrates under our umbrella.”

Caleb turns, his reflection sliding across the glass wall like a ghost. His charcoal suit doesn’t have a single wrinkle. Centuries of evolution, and my brother still dresses like he’s auditioning forVampire Monthly’scover model.

“And Blackthorn Consulting?” he asks, touching his dragon claw cufflink—a tell he doesn’t realize he has.

“Like we suspected, shell company. Launders money for someone bigger. We’re letting them think they’re flying under our radar.”

His eyebrows lift a fraction of an inch—maximum surprise in Caleb-speak. “That wasn’t in your report.”

“Some things are better discussed in person.” I tap my temple. “Some of us still remember what information security means.”

He moves to his desk, adjusting a stack of papers until they align perfectly with the edge. The medieval dragon-wing crest mounted on the wall behind him catches the fading daylight. Our family emblem—a constant reminder of duty, legacy, all the shit that Caleb lives for and I’m supposed to care about.

Idocare about it. Just not the way he does.

“The legal strategy meeting is tomorrow,” he says. “I need you there.”

“Let me guess. At seven in the morning? Cruel and unusual punishment.”

“This one’s at nine.”

“Still cruel.”

He ignores me, shuffling through the acquisition documents I brought up. His finger stops on a clause halfway down page sixteen. “This indemnification language is too broad.”

“It’s standard.”

“It’s sloppy.”

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