The Onyx Room was dark, the kind of place where deals were made in whispers.
Dominic Valerius sat in a corner booth, swirling an amber liquid in his glass. He was angry. His plan to extract Victoria had failed. She was back in the Croft stronghold, protected by the “husband” title he despised.
A woman slid into the booth opposite him. She wore a red trench coat and a smile that could cut glass.
“Cynthia Sharpe,” Dominic noted, not looking surprised. “The woman who just sent her best friend to prison.”
“Seraphina was a liability,” Cynthia shrugged, signaling the waiter. “She lacked vision. But you… you have vision, Dominic.”
“And you have a reputation to rebuild,” Dominic countered. “Why are you here?”
“Because we have a common enemy,” Cynthia leaned in, her eyes glinting. “William Croft destroyed my career. He humiliated you. He has the woman we both want out of the picture–for different reasons, of course.”
“I want Victoria safe,” Dominic said, narrowing his eyes.
“And I want the Croft empire to burn,” Cynthia smiled. “I know where the bodies are buried, Dominic. I know the PR weaknesses. I know the board members who hate Beatrice. You have the dark money; I have the map.”
She raised her glass. “To the destruction of the House of Croft.”
Dominic studied her. He hated the Crofts. He wanted to burn William’s world to ash so Victoria would have no choice but to run to him.
He clinked his glass against hers. “To the fire.”