Chapter 2 - THE MIDNIGHT DEADLINEThe moment the plane touched down at Denver International, the modern-day empire Damon Prescott had built began to fracture.
As passengers surged into the aisles, eager to escape the cabin, Damon stood blocking row twenty-eight. He watched like a hawk as Cassandra unbuckled the twins, her movements frantic as she hoisted Violet onto her hip and grabbed the diaper bag with her free hand.
“Let me take that,” Damon said, reaching for the heavy canvas bag.
“I can carry my own things, Damon.”
“Cassandra, stop being stubborn for five seconds. You have two toddlers and a stroller waiting at baggage claim. Do you seriously think you can navigate a chaotic airport alone at ten o'clock at night?”
“I’ve been doing it for two years!” she snapped, her voice cracking slightly under the strain.
“Well, you don’t have to anymore.”
Luke tugged on the hem of Damon’s expensive wool coat. “Mister Giant, are we going to an adventure?”
Damon looked down at the boy. The anger in his chest melted instantly, replaced by a fierce, possessive instinct he had never known existed. He knelt down so they were eye-to-eye.
“Yes, Luke,” Damon said softly. “We’re going on an adventure.”
They moved through the jet bridge together, a bizarre procession that drew second glances from travelers. Damon Prescott—tech billionaire, ruthless negotiator—was carrying a grey stuffed elephant in one hand and guiding a little boy with his exact facial features with the other.
At the baggage claim, Cassandra tried to make a break for the exit doors, heading straight toward the taxi line.
“Don’t even think about it,” a cool, crisp voice interrupted.
Cassandra spun around. Striding toward them with tablet in hand was Nora Beck, Damon’s chief strategy officer. Nora looked immaculate despite the late hour, her silver-rimmed glasses catching the harsh airport lighting. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Cassandra, the twins, and the unmistakable family resemblance staring back at her.
“Mr. Prescott,” Nora said, her professional mask slipping for a fraction of a second. “The acquisition team has been calling my phone for twenty minutes. Merritt Systems' CEO is waiting at the downtown headquarters. If you don’t sign by midnight—.”
“The acquisition can wait,” Damon interrupted flatly.
Nora stared at him as if he had grown a second head. “Wait? Damon, it’s a seven-hundred-and-eighty-million-dollar deal. If Calder’s group snatches it—.”
“Let them snatch it,” Damon said, his tone absolute. He turned his attention back to Cassandra, who was watching him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “My car is outside. We are all going to my penthouse.”
“Your penthouse?” Cassandra scoffed. “Damon, have you lost your mind? I am taking a cab to my sister’s house in Aurora.”
“Your sister lives in a cramped two-bedroom walk-up with three kids of her own. You flew in red-eye with twins. You aren't taking a cab anywhere.” Damon signaled to his private driver, a towering man in a dark suit who was already hurrying toward them with a luggage cart. “Marcus, load the bags.”
“Mr. Prescott, sir?” Marcus hesitated, looking at Cassandra and the children.
“All of them, Marcus.”
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Cassandra tried to step back, but Damon caught her gently by the elbow. There was no cruelty in his grip, only a quiet, terrifying determination.
“You can scream at me all you want in the car, Cassandra,” Damon murmured close to her ear, his breath warm against her temple. “You can tell me I ruined your life. But you are not walking out of my life a second time.”
