Chapter 13 - The Penthouse Trap
Twenty minutes later, I stood in the doorway of Emmett’s corner office. He was already leaning over his mahogany desk, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscle ticked visibly in his cheek.
“Marcus Vance,” Emmett growled, not looking up from his tablet. “The man has the corporate ethics of a starving wolf and the social tact of a brick wall. He thinks he can poach my chief strategic partner with an inflated salary?”
“He thinks I’m a weapon he can buy,” I replied calmly, walking over to pour myself a cup of dark roast from his private espresso machine. “He thinks I’m bitter about my family, and that I’ll jump at the chance to destroy the people who underestimated me.”
Emmett finally looked up, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made the air in the room feel heavy. “And will you?”
“Destroy them?” I took a slow sip of the espresso. “I don't need to lift a finger to destroy Marcus Vance. He’s already over-leveraged on three failing commercial real estate projects in Boston. If we play our cards right, we can orchestrate a market squeeze that will swallow Vance & Sterling whole before the end of the quarter.”
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A slow, predatory smile spread across Emmett’s face—the exact look that terrified his competitors on Wall Street.
“I love it when you talk hostile takeover,” he murmured, standing up and walking around the desk to close the distance between us. “What’s phase one?”
