Page 7 of Feral King

But Alexander doesn't say a single word.

Two years, this man lectured me about loyalty.

I'd laugh if I weren't busy watching him fold.

Julian looks past her to the security guards standing nearby. "Please escort Ms. Harrington from the premises, and make sure she is locked out of the system."

The two men in dark suits gesture for her to come with them. Sophia takes a step back, then another, her heel catching.

"Alex!" she hisses. "Do something!"

Alexander finally finds his voice, and he uses it on me.

"This is absurd." He gestures at me without looking at me, like I'm a catering error. "Julian, whatever she's told you, Lyra is no longer associated with this family. Or this company."

Alexander steps forward, suddenly finding his spine. "You can't just walk in here and start issuing orders. I've been running this company for three years. Where the hell were you this whole time?"

"Cleaning up messes," he says. He doesn't offer any further explanation as he turns to face his brother, the room turning with him.

"You were interim CEO, Alexander. Don't confuse temporary custody with ownership." His voice stays quiet, which somehow makes it carry further. "I've resumed control of this family's affairs, as of tonight. The public spectacles, the mismanagement. It stops now. The rest we will discuss where our father's name isn't watching."

It's not a full declaration of war.

It's worse. It's a man informing his brother that the war is already over, and Alexander just hasn't read the paperwork yet.

The silence that follows is heavy and awkward. No one is even bothering to pretend they're not watching.

Julian turns to me, his hand finding the small of my back again. Warm. Steady. Through silk that suddenly feels like nothing at all. He guides me toward the cluster of charity representatives watching with undisguised awe.

"Lyra will be resuming her role at the foundation. She is instrumental to our company's philanthropic mission. You will all be working with her directly."

I spot Margaret in the crowd. She looks like she wants to start applauding.

But something suddenly occurs to me: I didn't agree to any of this.

"Julian." I keep my voice low, but I don't soften it. "You can offer me a position. You cannot announce my acceptance."

Something sparks in those gray eyes. Interest. Maybe more than interest.

"You're right," he says, and for a second I think I've won. "So refuse me. Right now, in front of them. Tell these people the literacy program stays shelved, and walk out."

I open my mouth.

Marcus in Queens. Dad's surgery. The hole I've been sinking into for three weeks.

I close it again.

"That's what I thought," he says.

"Don't." I turn to face him fully, and whatever is on my face makes him actually pause. "Don't mistake this for surrender. I'm saying yes because it serves me. My father gets his surgery. My kids get their books. You get the best event planner in this city." I step in close enough that only he can hear the rest. "But if you ever put words in my mouth in public again, Julian Volkov, I will make you regret it in ways your enemies haven't thought of yet."

A slow blink. The first one I've seen him take all night.

Then the smile arrives. The whole thing, at last. And God help me, it was worth the wait.

"There she is," he says softly, like I've just confirmed something he suspected. "The position is real, Lyra. So is the salary. The terms, we discuss at dinner. Tomorrow, eight o'clock. My driver will collect you."

Terms. There it is. Nothing this man hands you comes free; the bill just arrives later, and by then you've already spent the money.