The Obsidian Club sat forty stories above the city, a monolith of black glass and hushed secrets. Inside, the lighting was dim enough to hide a murder but bright enough to showcase a diamond.
Aria smoothed the skirt of her emerald silk dress. She looked like a masterpiece; she felt like a sacrificial lamb.
Across the circular table, Julian sat stiffly. He had changed into a charcoal suit, his hair swept back with surgical precision. For the first time in their lives, they weren't looking at each other to find a weakness. They were looking at each other for a lifeline.
"You both look spectacular," Aria's father, Arthur Sterling, said, swirling a glass of scotch that probably cost more than a mid-sized sedan. "The press is going to have a field day with the photos from the upcoming winter gala."
"The press?" Julian asked, his voice dangerously low. "Father, you said this was a summit about the merger."
"It is," Alistair Vane replied, leaning forward. He placed a heavy, leather-bound folder in the centre of the table. It sat between Aria and Julian like a live grenade. "The Sterling-Vane Union. A complete consolidation of assets. But a merger of this scale needs a public anchor. It needs a narrative that the shareholders will swallow without question."
"A fairy tale," Aria whispered, her throat dry.
"A legacy," her mother corrected sharply. "Aria, the Sterling name is under threat from offshore buyouts. Julian, the Vane banks need the media influence that the Sterlings provide. Together, you are untouchable. Separately, you are targets."
Julian reached out, his long fingers flipping open the folder. He didn't look at the financial projections. He looked at the final page.
Aria felt the air leave the room. She looked at Julian, expecting to see him fighting back, but he was staring at the paper with a hauntingly blank expression.
"The engagement will be announced tomorrow," Arthur Sterling continued, oblivious to the silent carnage at the table. "You'll move into the penthouse at The Ascent. It's midway between the university and the city centre. You'll be expected to be seen together four times a week. Minimum."
"And if we refuse?" Aria asked. Her voice didn't shake. A Sterling never shook.
Her father didn't even look up from his drink. "Then you are welcome to find your own way in the world. Without the Sterling trust. Without the Sterling name. And I believe, Julian, your father has similar thoughts regarding your seat on the board?"
Alistair Vane nodded coldly. "You've been groomed for the top, Julian. Don't let a fit of youthful rebellion land you in the middle class."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Julian finally looked at Aria. For years, they had fought for the top spot. Now, they were being handed the world on a silver platter, but the platter was a cage.
Slowly, Julian picked up the gold fountain pen resting on the folder. He held it out to Aria first. A final act of twisted chivalry.
"Two-thousandths of a point, Aria," he murmured, so low only she could hear. "I guess we both just lost."
Aria took the pen. Her fingers brushed his, cold against cold. She signed her name in perfect, elegant cursive. Julian followed suit, his signature bold and jagged.
"Excellent," her father beamed, standing up. "Now, let's have dinner. We have a lot of 'romance' to plan."