Chloe Carter's hands trembled as she slammed Marcus's office door behind her.
The room was dim, city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows like fractured stars. Marcus sat with a glass of whiskey in his hand, legs crossed, as if he'd been waiting for her.
"Marcus. We need to talk."
Chloe's voice cracked.
He didn't look surprised.
Or worried.
Only… entertained.
"Chloe," he drawled, swirling his drink. "You look terrified. Something happen?"
She marched closer, fury and fear tangled in her expression.
"Don't play games with me. The shooting at Samantha's penthouse—someone almost died. This isn't part of our deal!"
Marcus finally looked up.
And his expression hardened—just enough to remind her who he truly was.
"A deal?" Marcus repeated softly. "You mean the one where you stole company funds, lied to your family, and funneled information to me?"
Chloe paled.
