Arthur's Office — Evening
The city lights had already begun to glow outside Arthur's office.
The Sinclair proposal documents remained untouched on the corner of his desk.
Arthur stood near the window, one hand in his pocket, his expression unreadable.
The door opened.
His secretary stepped inside.
"You asked for me?"
Arthur turned.
"Come here."
She approached without another word.
He pulled her against him, his hand settling firmly around her waist.
She smiled.
"You're in a good mood tonight."
"Am I?"
His voice carried a faint edge of amusement.
"You've been smiling since I came in."
Arthur said nothing.
He leaned down and kissed her.
She responded immediately, wrapping her arms around him.
For Arthur, it was nothing more than a momentary distraction.
He had no intention of telling her why he was pleased.
She knew nothing about his conversation with his grandfather.
Nothing about Robert Sinclair.
Nothing about what Arthur intended to do with the alliance.
That information belonged elsewhere.
His main PA handled those matters.
The secretary pulled back slightly.
"Something good happened?"
Arthur looked at her.
"Perhaps."
"Can I know?"
His expression immediately changed.
"No."
The single word was calm but final.
She laughed softly.
"You're impossible."
Arthur's hand tightened slightly around her waist.
"Then don't ask questions."
He kissed her again, effectively ending the conversation.
She didn't know that while she stood in his arms, Arthur's mind was already somewhere else.
Robert Sinclair.
The fractured Trio Fire.
The shifting balance of power.
And the opportunity that had just presented itself.
His secretary knew only the man standing before her.
She knew nothing about the game he was playing.
And Arthur intended to keep it that way.
Kingston Enterprises — Evening
The office had grown quiet.
Catherine sat at her desk, but her attention wasn't on the documents in front of her.
Her mind kept returning to Damien.
The fight.
Nikolas.
Andrew walking away.
Trio Fire falling apart.
She still couldn't understand what had happened.
Her phone rang.
Catherine glanced at the screen.
Mother.
She answered.
"Hello, Mom."
Her mother's voice came through.
"Catherine, did you hear about Brittany?"
Catherine straightened.
"What happened?"
"She had an argument with your grandfather about the engagement."
A pause.
"She was furious that they accepted Nikolas's proposal without asking her."
Catherine frowned.
"And?"
"Roger lost his temper and slapped her."
Catherine went silent.
"He's regretted it since."
"And Brittany?"
"She eventually accepted that your grandfather had made his decision."
Catherine sighed softly.
"That sounds like Brittany."
They spoke for another moment before the call ended.
Catherine placed her phone on the desk.
Her thoughts immediately returned to Damien.
If he wouldn't tell her what had happened...
Fine.
She would find out herself.
Her expression hardened slightly.
She reached for her phone again and called her assistant.
"I want everything you can find about what happened at the Obsidian Room."
A pause.
"Especially what happened between Damien and Nikolas."
"And don't let Damien know I'm asking."
She ended the call.
Catherine leaned back in her chair.
She was still angry with her husband.
But she wasn't going to sit quietly while something clearly serious was happening around him.
If Damien refused to speak...
She would find the truth on her own.
---
The Next Morning — Rodriguez Holdings
It was barely ten in the morning when the doors to Nikolas Rodriguez's office flew open.
Brittany stormed inside.
"Cancel it."
Nikolas looked up from his desk.
"Brittany—"
"The engagement."
She slammed her handbag onto his desk.
"Cancel it."
Nikolas calmly closed the file in front of him.
"No."
Her eyes widened.
"No?"
"I won't."
Her anger exploded.
She grabbed a crystal ornament from the side table and threw it across the room.
It shattered.
"Then I'll make sure there is no engagement!"
She swept several things from the desk, knocking folders and decorative pieces onto the floor.
Nikolas remained silent.
"Brittany."
"Don't!"
She turned sharply, accidentally catching her hand against the broken edge of a glass frame.
She hissed.
A thin line of blood appeared across her palm.
Nikolas immediately stood.
"Bring the first-aid box."
His assistant hurried away.
"I don't need—"
"Sit."
"I said I don't—"
"Brittany."
His voice was quiet but firm.
She glared at him.
Nikolas walked over, took her uninjured arm, and guided her toward the sofa.
She resisted.
He simply made her sit.
Moments later, the assistant returned with the first-aid box.
"Leave us."
The door closed.
Nikolas knelt before her and carefully took her injured hand.
Brittany stared at him.
"What are you doing?"
"Dressing your hand."
"Why?"
He gently cleaned the cut.
"Because you're hurt."
She watched him wrap the bandage around her palm.
Her anger hadn't disappeared.
But it had become quieter.
"Why are you doing all this?"
Nikolas looked up at her.
"Because I love you too much to let you go."
Brittany froze.
He continued dressing her hand.
"I know you don't want this."
"I know you hate being told what to do."
She pulled her hand slightly.
"I'm not Catherine."
Nikolas stopped.
Brittany's eyes met his.
"I'm not going to blindly follow whatever arrangement our families make."
"I won't simply smile, accept it, and become someone's perfect wife."
Nikolas's expression softened.
"I know."
He finished securing the bandage.
"That's what makes you different."
He looked directly into her eyes.
"And that's exactly why I want you as my wife."
Brittany's anger faltered.
Nikolas continued quietly.
"I don't want a woman who agrees with everything I say."
"I want you."
"And I will never disappoint you."
For once, Brittany had no immediate answer.
She looked down at the bandage around her hand.
Then slowly raised her eyes again.
"There is something you already know."
Nikolas waited.
"You know about Damien."
His expression remained calm.
"You know I was once pregnant with his child."
A silence followed.
Brittany swallowed.
"Do you still want to marry me?"
Nikolas didn't hesitate.
"Your past is none of my concern."
He held her gaze.
"Your present..."
He paused.
"...and your future are mine."
Brittany stared at him.
For the first time that morning, she didn't know what to say.
Exactly. Robert shouldn't reveal to Felicia that he had her watched or that he specifically ordered her brought there because of Arthur. That should remain information for the reader only. To Felicia, his motive should be completely unclear, making the scene more tense.
Chapter 22 — Felicia & Robert
Felicia's car was only minutes away from Kingston Enterprises when another vehicle suddenly blocked the road.
Before she could understand what was happening, everything went dark.
---
An hour later...
Felicia sat in the back of a vehicle, her hands bound and her eyes covered by a blindfold.
She had spent most of the journey cursing.
"Untie me!"
"Where the hell are you taking me?"
"When I find out who's behind this, you're going to regret it!"
No one answered.
The vehicle finally came to a stop.
The doors opened.
Felicia immediately began struggling.
"Don't touch me!"
Two men carefully guided her out.
She fought them every step of the way, but they never dragged her or hurt her. They simply kept her moving.
She was taken inside.
Her hands were untied.
Then the blindfold was removed.
Felicia blinked rapidly.
And froze.
Robert Sinclair stood directly in front of her.
Her expression instantly turned furious.
"You."
Robert said nothing.
Felicia stormed toward him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
"You think you can just have me kidnapped?"
"You have absolutely no right!"
Robert remained silent.
Felicia's anger only grew.
"Say something!"
He simply watched her.
"You're a complete psychopath!"
She raised her hand to slap him.
Robert caught her wrist.
Felicia immediately tried to pull away.
"Let go of me!"
He caught her other wrist as well.
"Enough."
"Get your hands off me!"
Robert's eyes hardened.
"Everyone leave."
The men immediately obeyed.
The door closed behind them.
Robert released her.
Felicia stepped back, rubbing her wrists.
She glared at him.
"You're going to regret this."
Robert looked at her calmly.
"Perhaps."
"Then why the hell did you bring me here?"
A pause.
Robert's expression remained unreadable.
"Because I wanted to see you."
Felicia stared at him in disbelief.
"You kidnapped me because you wanted to see me?"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Would you have come willingly?"
Felicia scoffed.
"Absolutely not."
"I thought so."
She glared at him.
"You really are insane."
Robert said nothing.
He simply continued watching her.
And Felicia had no idea what had truly brought her here.
She didn't know about the eyes that had been following her.
She didn't know that Robert had been informed of every movement leading to this moment.
And she certainly didn't know that the moment his bodyguard had told him she was on her way to meet Arthur Kingston...
Robert had made his decision.
He wanted Felicia in front of him.
Alone.
Now she was.
And neither of them knew what would happen next.p
Robert's expression remained unreadable as he watched Felicia pace a few steps away from him.
"Sit."
Felicia stopped. She looked at him as though he'd lost his mind. "Excuse me?"
"I said, sit."
"I'm not taking orders from you."
A faint smile touched Robert's lips. "Still fighting."
"Always."
He gestured toward the high-backed chair.
Felicia deliberately remained standing, her jaw set in defiance.
Robert didn't repeat himself. Instead, he asked quietly, "Do you think your opinion of who to choose matter here?"
Felicia's expression changed. "You think you can control me."
"It became my control the moment you decided to involve yourself in something that concerns my family."
She scoffed. "Your family? Arthur isn't yours."
Robert's gaze sharpened, his broad frame cutting off the light in the room as he took a single, slow step toward her. "Neither is he yours."
Felicia stepped closer, throwing her chin up.
"You don't get to tell me who I can want."
"No," Robert's voice remained calm, dropping into a low, terrifying baritone.
"But I can tell you when you're crossing a line."
Felicia laughed bitterly. "You brought me here, kidnapped me, tied me up, blindfolded me—and now you're lecturing me about lines?"
Robert didn't react to her outburst. "You seem very interested in Arthur."
Felicia's eyes narrowed. "And?"
"Are you trying to win him?"
She said nothing. Robert studied her silence, taking in the rapid rise and fall of her chest. "I thought so."
Felicia's pride immediately flared. "You know nothing about me."
"I know enough." He closed the remaining distance between them, his presence instantly overwhelming her quiet space. "You don't love him."
Felicia's expression hardened. "You don't know what I feel."
"I know you want to possess what you can't have."
That struck a nerve. "Don't analyze me."
"Then don't give me something so obvious to analyze." Robert's voice lowered into a dark growl. "Arthur is playing his own game."
"So am I."
"Then understand this." He stopped directly in front of her. "You can continue playing. But don't assume everyone around you will simply stand aside and watch."
Felicia lifted her chin, her eyes flashing with fury. "Are you threatening me?"
"No." Robert's dark eyes held hers. "I'm warning you."
She smiled coldly. "I don't scare easily.
"I know." A long pause stretched between them.
"That's precisely why you're interesting. But remember one thing, Felicia."
She looked at him, her pulse spiking under his intense gaze.
"Never mistake obsession for power," Robert murmured smoothly. "Sometimes the person you think you're controlling... is simply letting you believe you are."
Before Felicia could process the words, Robert moved with blinding, effortless speed.
His large hand caught her by the waist, lifting her off her feet for a fraction of a second before bringing her back down, pinning her firmly against the edge of his heavy mahogany desk.
Felicia gasped, her hands instinctively flying up to push against his broad chest, but Robert stepped directly between her knees, trapping her entirely within his shadow.
His heavy hand came up to wrap firmly around the back of her neck, his thumb pressing into her jawline—locking her gaze directly onto his dark, unyielding eyes.
"Listen to me very carefully," Robert growled softly, his face inches from hers, his breath hot against her skin.
"There is no business with Arthur that doesn't pass through me. He is marrying my sister. You don't get to use him, and you certainly don't get to run from me."
"Let me go..." she rasped, her hands gripping his lapels as the reality of his absolute physical dominance settled over her.
"No," Robert purred, his grip on her neck holding her perfectly still.
His free hand slid down to her waist, his heavy fingers digging into the soft curve of her hip, anchoring her body flush against his. He didn't rush.
He took his time, leaning down to trail his lips slowly along the sensitive line of her exposed throat, pulling a sharp, shuddering gasp from her lips.
He claimed her mouth in a slow, suffocatingly deep kiss—demanding her complete yield, systematically breaking down her defiance until her body softened against his frame.
He consumed her breath, using his overwhelming presence to make it unequivocally clear that playing games with him carried immediate, absolute consequences.
When he finally pulled back, his thumb traced her swollen lower lip, his dark eyes gleaming with quiet, possessive authority.
"You are mine, Felicia," Robert whispered against her cheek, his voice a heavy, non-negotiable vow. "Stay away from Arthur.
The evening had settled over New York by the time Catherine arrived at the private lounge.
She hadn't expected to see so many familiar faces.
But the moment she stepped inside—
"Catherine!"
A familiar voice called out.
She turned.
Sloane stood in the middle of the room, looking radiant after months away in Europe.
Catherine's face finally softened.
"Sloane."
Sloane hurried over and pulled her into a tight hug.
"Don't tell me you actually missed me."
Catherine smiled faintly.
"I considered filing a missing-person report."
Sloane gasped dramatically.
"After everything I did for you?"
"You disappeared for three months."
"I was in Europe."
"You sent me three pictures."
"Three very beautiful pictures."
"They were all of food."
Sloane grinned.
"Exactly. I was sharing my happiness."
The others laughed.
Soon the evening turned into exactly what Sloane had intended.
A break from everything.
They talked about Europe, work, ridiculous dating stories, old memories, and people they had once promised never to mention again.
At one point, Sloane raised her glass.
"To surviving another year without committing a felony."
Catherine lifted her glass.
"Speak for yourself."
Everyone burst out laughing.
For a few hours, Catherine forgot about Damien.
Forgot about the fight.
Forgot about the questions she had been carrying since the previous night.
But Sloane noticed the moments when Catherine's smile disappeared.
Later, when the others had moved toward the terrace, Sloane quietly joined Catherine near the window.
"You've been somewhere else all evening."
Catherine sighed.
"Have I?"
"You always do that."
"Do what?"
"Smile like everything is fine while thinking about something completely different."
Catherine looked down at her glass.
"Things are complicated."
Sloane didn't push.
She simply stood beside her.
After a moment, Catherine whispered,
"I don't know what happens next."
Sloane looked at her.
"Then don't figure it out tonight."
Catherine glanced at her.
"You really think it's that simple?"
"No."
Sloane smiled softly.
"I think you're allowed to not have all the answers."
She reached over and squeezed Catherine's hand.
"And whatever happens..."
"I'm here."
Catherine remained silent.
Sloane continued quietly.
"You don't have to explain everything."
"You don't have to pretend with me."
"And you definitely don't have to go through anything alone."
Catherine's eyes softened.
"You haven't changed."
"Of course I haven't."
Sloane smiled.
"I'm still the same irritating friend who will show up uninvited, steal your wine, and give you terrible advice."
Catherine laughed.
"Your advice is terrible."
"I know."
Sloane raised her glass.
"That's why you love me."
Catherine shook her head, smiling.
"Maybe."
Sloane bumped her shoulder lightly.
"Good enough."
For the first time in days, Catherine felt something she hadn't allowed herself to feel.
Not certainty.
Not peace.
Just comfort.
The kind that came from knowing that somewhere in the chaos...
Someone would stay.
And Sloane intended to be that person.