"In this game of power, love is the deadliest weapon of all."
—Dylan Reed
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Dylan's Point of View
The meeting was finally over. Hours of stiff silence and guarded words, masks of diplomacy stretched thin across faces that were far too eager to see me crack. The shareholders had begun filing out of the conference room, murmuring among themselves in tones they thought I couldn't hear.
I didn't move. I remained in my chair, elbows pressed into the mahogany table, my hands folded as if in prayer. I wasn't praying, I was calculating.
Across from me, Asher hadn't moved either. She sat poised, back straight, one leg crossed over the other, her face unreadable. To anyone else, she looked like a portrait of elegance, calm, in control, unshaken. But I knew her too well. Beneath that composure was a storm, and I wasn't sure if I was the thunder or the lightning in her eyes.
