Page 17 of The Devil of Downtown

“It’s nice to meet you.” He extends a hand, grip firm but not overbearing. “I’m Dominic Bexley.”

“Oh, likewise.” My voice tips higher than intended, surprise sneaking in. Until now, Bexley was simply an annoying name Dane lobbed around like a loaded weapon. But now it has a face.

“Don’t look so worried.” Dominic’s smile is easy, his tone warm enough to disarm. “It’s my father’s company. I’m just the spare. The title of heir goes to my dearest brother, Hugo. Unfortunately, he can’t be with us today.” The name Hugo rolls off his tongue with the same enthusiasm as if he’d stepped in a dog turd.

“I’m Sloane Vale. Dane Black’s assistant.”

“Well, I won’t hold it against you.” His eyes glint with humor, the kind that invites you in.

“Maybe you can help me?” I quickly steer the conversation to safer ground, nodding to the skyline beyond the glass. “What’s that tall building over there?”

“You mean the ghastly, pointy one?” His grin widens. “That’s the Shard.”

“Something tells me the Bexleys prefer tradition over modernization,” I muse.

“Ah, I’m afraid you’ve hit the nail on the head, which is precisely why we are here today. So, where is the infamous Dane Black?” A frown pulls at his brow at the simple mention of his name.

“Oh, don’t worry.” I deadpan. “He had to burn someone at the stake, but he’ll be here shortly.”

Dominic’s laugh bursts out, deep and unrestrained, bouncing off the high ceilings. He’s still chuckling when a cluster of older executives arrive, all dressed immaculately in bespoke suits.Dominic releases a quiet groan and leans closer, muttering under his breath, “Party time.”

Dane enters last.

All eyes fly to him as he strides into the room like a storm rolling in, exuding the kind of power that can’t be faked.

The mood hardens in an instant.

He’s in a black suit that looks freshly tailored, the crisp scent of clean skin and expensive cologne trailing in his wake. His hair is still damp from the shower, catching the light in dark streaks. Heads turn toward him, but his gaze is already on me—flicking briefly to Dominic before cutting back with clear irritation.

“Sloane,” he barks, putting me firmly in my place. “I need you to take minutes.”

I give him a terse nod, my cheeks flushing as I snap open Sloane’s laptop. A faint smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. He knows I’m pissed.

Bastard.

The moment everyone settles, Dane rises. No pleasantries. No wasted seconds.

“Bexley is underperforming.”

The words land like a scalpel’s first cut.

“Shareholders are restless. Confidence is slipping. Black Capital can offer a lifeline—cash, restructuring expertise, and a premium on your stock. You’ll be stronger, leaner, and positioned for long-term growth.”

His tone is steady, almost surgical—more quiet execution than persuasion.

Across the table, shoulders stiffen. One of the older directors clears his throat. “We’ve weathered worse storms. Bexley will recover without outside interference.”

Another leans forward, face reddening. “With respect, Mr. Black, your firm has a reputation. Strip the bones, sell the pieces. You’re not here to save Bexley. You’re here to bleed it.”

I sneak a glance at Dane. Not even a flicker. He listens with the patience of a man sharpening his knife, then dismantles their objections piece by piece.

“Ad revenue is down twelve percent. Streaming launch delayed twice pending regulatory scrutiny in both the UK and EU; none of these are storms you weather. They’re fractures that widen.”

He keeps going on and on, systematically stripping away every defense they offer. Projections, market share, regulatory delays—I type as fast as I can, already a paragraph behind, the quiet click of keys the only sound cutting through the tightening silence in the room. Across the table, Stan tugs at his collar with each point Dane lands, his composure thinning by the second.

Opposite me, Dominic holds my gaze, his mouth tugging wryly at the corners. I feel an ache of sympathy—he isn’t blind to what’s happening, but he’s powerless to stop it. I offer him the faintest smile in return before dropping my focus to my notes.

When I glance up again, Dane is watching.