As the taxi pulls to a stop, James gives me a long look. "You ready for this?"
"I'm ready," I say, and I mean it. Let them come. I've faced worse odds. We both have.
Chapter 24
We're going to fight back
Violet
I rub my temples as Blake disconnects the video call, the PR and legal teams' voices still echoing in my head. Outside the meeting room's floor-to-ceiling windows, Jeddah's neon skyline pulses against the night sky—all flash and dazzle. Inside, my mind races faster than any car on our grid.
The photos.
William mobbed at the airport.
Dominic's smug face floating in my thoughts.
I don't need to be a genius to connect these dots.
"That went well," Blake says, but his tone suggests the opposite.
He leans back in his leather chair, running a hand through his gray hair. His Colton Racing jacket looks almost black in the dim lighting, the team logo catching occasional glints from the city lights outside.
Belforte snorts from across our small round table. "That went as well as a funeral."
He swirls amber liquid in his crystal tumbler before taking a sip. His midnight-blue trousers and crisp white dress shirt with rolled sleeves somehow make him look both dangerously casual and impeccably put together. "Your PR team is good, but this situation calls for... different tactics."
"Different how?" I ask, though I already suspect what's coming.
Belforte leans forward, blue eyes gleaming. "I know people who could pay Harrington a visit. Nothing too dramatic." He gestures vaguely with his glass. "Maybe his car breaks down in an inconvenient location. Maybe his phone starts getting strange messages at 3 AM. Maybe he finds fish wrapped in newspaper on his—"
"Silas," Blake interrupts, eyes wide. "We are not inThe Godfather."
"Shame," Belforte says, not looking remotely apologetic. "I even have the perfect suit for it. I’m a big fan of the movies, you know?"
A laugh escapes me—sharp and unexpected. Both men turn to look at me.
"What?" Belforte asks, eyebrow raised.
"I appreciate the creativity," I say, smoothing the lapels of my linen suit, "but I think we should save the movie tactics for... well, movies."
"You have a better idea?" Belforte asks, leaning back in his chair. "Because last I checked, Dominic is still breathing clean air instead of choking on his own—"
"Yes," I cut in before he can finish that colorful thought. "I have a better idea."
Blake's eyes narrow with interest. "What are you thinking, Violet?"
I take a sip of water, gathering my thoughts. "We're going to talk to him."
"Talk?" Belforte repeats, like I've suggested we try communicating with Dominic via interpretive dance. "You tried talking at Vortex HQ, remember? He was as useful as a rock on the sidewalk. No—less useful. At least you can throw a rock at something."
I smile. "We're going to talk to him differently this time."
"How so?" Blake asks, clearly not following.
I cross my legs as a plan crystallizes. "Dominic loves games. He loves manipulation and pressure and watching people squirm. He gets off on it." I pause, letting my words sink in. "So we're going to play his game, but better."
Belforte's expression shifts from skepticism to curiosity. His lips curve into a slow smile. "Go on."
