Page 21 of The Founder's Power

I stiffen.

“I don’t mean to be unkind,” he adds quickly. “He’s brilliant. Ruthless, yes, but brilliant. I respected that once.”

Once.

I don’t ask.

After a poised, patient moment, he continues, “He built his empire off of precision and sacrifice. He sacrificed partners, opportunities… people.”

“Which people?” I ask carefully, wondering if maybe this is why Vincent’s sought me out. He was hurt by Damian before, and he wants to “save” me.

Although I was hurt by Damian before already myself…

Vincent tilts his head. “For starts…” He wrinkles his nose and looks away before clearing his throat, righting himself, and staring me in the eye. “There was a woman before you. Two years ago. He was in love with her—deeply, I think—but when she got in the way of a merger deal, he chose the acquisition.”

I blink. “You’re saying he ended a relationship… for business?”

“I’m not saying anything,” Vincent replies, voice silk and shadow. “I just hope that if you and him are… talking… that he tells you everything.”

He lets the words linger, hanging like smoke between us.

Then he finishes his drink and offers me that same infuriating, perfect smile. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to your evening. Always a pleasure, Isabelle.”

And he’s gone before I can even think of a response.

I stare after him, my thoughts spinning, my heartbeat uneven. Damian was certain allowed to date other women after me. Two years ago… that was after our… mess of a first crack at a relationship. But for him to pick business over her? He basically did the same thing to me, although I was the one to end things with Damian over it, and it sounds like he might’ve been the heartbreaker this time.

So the worst part isn’t necessarily what Vincent told me or that I believe him.

It’s that I don’t know if I can ask Damian about this and be told the truth.

CHAPTER10

DAMIAN

Ihaven’t seen her in three days.

A few texts. A voicemail I never answered. A missed call I told myself I’d return later.

But “later” never comes when you’re putting out fires with both hands.

Vincent is moving faster than I anticipated.

His team has secured a stake in one of our satellite holdings. Minor on paper and irrelevant to most eyes but not to mine. It’s the kind of move you make when you’re sending a message, when you want someone to know, “I see your weaknesses. I know where to press.”

And I won’t let him win. Not again.

I’ve been buried in meetings. Lawyers. Analysts. Asset shields. Emergency buybacks. Every minute I’m not sleeping, I’m restructuring the very company I built just to keep him from cracking its foundation.

I tell myself I’ll see her tomorrow.

Ineedto see her tomorrow.

But I don’t head to her place. Instead, I walk into my penthouse at 2:42 in the morning. The silence is thick, and the ache from missing her and wishing I could come home to her every day hits me hard.

I sit on the edge of my bed, loosen my tie, and stare at my phone.

One unread message.

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