Page 96 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

“I’ll deliver those myself.” Dipping his chin in a nod of thanks, Khalohn turns on his heel, making his way to the bullpen. It’s rare that he’s seen maneuvering his way through the associates’ desks, but it’s not difficult for him to find his intended target.

“Mr. Morgan,” says Lorelai upon his approach. She’s quick to stand to her feet, and she smooths her hands down the front of her skirt as she looks at him in question.

“I’m late for a meeting, but this can’t wait.”

“Okay,” she replies with rapt attention.

“Within the next hour, Maribelle will have a file on your desk. It’s what we need to call off Christina Winslow. You are to have it delivered—be it by courier or personally, it’s up to you. However, the timing is crucial. Do you have lunch plans?”

Speaking through a half smile, she replies, “I think you’re about to make them for me.”

“I’ll be meeting Charles to hand off the same documents at lunch. Check with Maribelle for what time. I don’t intend to dine, just deliver a warning: get her to back off, or I tank the deal. By that I mean, as soon as the company is mine, I’ll dismantle Pier House without thinking twice about it.”

“Wow.” Lorelai lifts her eyebrows in surprise, folding her arms across her chest. “She struck a nerve, didn’t she?”

“She made it personal.”

“You mean—because of the woman in the photo?”

Khalohn stares at his associate, saying all he needs to in the silence. When he’s certain his point has been made, he continues with his plan.

“I don’t want her to know before he does.”

“Right. Well, I think I can lure myself a lunch date,” says Lorelai mischievously.

“I trust you will.”

Having said all he needs to say, he turns without another word and heads to his meeting. It lasts just shy of an hour. As the room clears, he checks his phone, glancing at his calendar. He doesn’t have time to stop at his office before his next appointment, but he sees Maribelle came through—as she always does. He’s got a lunch reservation at twelve-thirty, and he intends to be the first in his party of three to arrive.

Before his next meeting begins, he makes it known he’s on a tight schedule. He expects everyone to stick to the outlined agenda. As usual, what the boss wants is what the boss gets, and he’s heading to Maribelle’s desk at noon on the dot.

“Everything you asked for,” she says, holding out the printed file before he comes to a full stop. “Mr. Zúñiga has been notified and should be waiting for you now.”

With a sharp jerk of his chin, he takes hold of his ammunition and starts for the elevator. It’s been a long time since he’s gone to war for a deal. Negotiations are one thing, and the best business transactions are won in battle; but pulling out the big guns is a tactic he only uses as a last-ditch effort. This time, just as Lorelai surmised, a line was crossed. Thinking back to Friday night, to the ride home after the gala, he remembers what Jessica said.

Maybe it makes me a slut—but no. It doesn’t change this.

To Khalohn, it doesn’t matter where they met or how their relationship began, his woman is not a slut. For Christina to threaten him, not simply by exposing his connection to Clandestine’s, but exposingJessica’sarrangement as well—it’s foolhardy, at best. His business reputation is too powerful to take a major hit from rumors in regard to his personal life. But Jessica cannot say the same, and he won’t see her name dragged through the tabloids out of spite.

However many steps ahead Christina thinks she is, she’s wrong. She saw Jessica on his arm, and she’s stupid enough to think she has leverage. It’s almost laughable how she believes he would ever cower to her. She tried to bend him to her will once before, and she failed. Khalohn isn’t a vindictive man, but she needs to be checked.

Atzel is waiting with the door open as he approaches the Maybach. Picking up on Khalohn’s sense of urgency, they’re on their way in no time. It takes fifteen minutes for them to reach their destination, and Khalohn doesn’t wait for his driver to open his door before he climbs out and steps onto the sidewalk in front of the restaurant.

He’s seated five minutes before twelve-thirty, and he takes advantage of his moment alone. A waiter comes by and offers him a water, which he accepts. It’s the only thing he intends to ingest before he returns to the office. When he looks to the front entrance and see’s Winslow and Shephard being escorted his way, Khalohn draws in a breath and looks to the file atop the table in front of him. He doesn’t stand to shake hands upon their arrival but offers them each a curt nod in greeting.

“Your secretary informed us this was urgent,” says Barry, unbuttoning his jacket as he takes his seat. “I was just on the phone with Lorelai this morning. Shouldn’t be long now, and all the paperwork should be complete.”

“I’m here to make it clear, if you don’t get Christina to back down, Pier House Resorts will be dismantled, piece by piece, before you can spend a dime that comes from me.”

“Christina?” mutters Charles. He leans forward, a worried frown tugging at his brow. “We’ve handled her. Even if she wanted to take over—”

“She came after you, and you settled for tying her up in red tape.” Khalohn picks up the folder and stands, both men gaping up at him. He takes a step toward Charles and does him the curtesy of holding the file in offering. “I’m not a small business looking to bail you out andpartnerwith you; I’m an enterprise, and I don’t need red tape. She backs off, or it won’t be me the papers are interested in. People will be too busy gossiping about the Winslow scandal—until your name and your father’s legacy are meaningless.”

Charles is quick to open the file, his eyes moving frantically over Adams’ findings. Khalohn, confident he’s made himself clear, doesn’t stick around for further discussion.

He closes his jacket, smoothing his hand down his tie as he says, “Afternoon, gentleman.”

After an hourin the studio, Jessica walks out the front doors, every cell in her body zinging through her blood stream. She’s more excited than she feels she has a right to be, but it can’t be helped. Wanting to share the news, she digs her phone out of her purse and finds Stefano’s contact information, initiating a call as she starts for the loft. When it rings through to his voicemail, she’s disappointed—but she barely feels the sting, her buzz still in full force.

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