Chapter 36
Chapter 36:
Dominic waited until Mirabelle Vance disappeared down the street before heading back in, the laundry bag dangling from his arm. At the front desk, one of the reception girls stopped him.
“Dom, who was that just now p>
She was trying to play it casual, but he could see the regret all over her face. She’d clearly thought Mirabelle was a nobody earlier and now wanted a do-over.
“She didn’t give her name. Is she really here to see the big boss? How come she doesn’t have an appointment? I thought p>
“Stop asking so many questions,” Dominic said, barely slowing down. “Next time she shows up, don’t make her wait. Let her through straightaway. Got it p>
The girl swallowed. “Y-yeah. Got it p>
Dominic hit the lift and rode up to the sixty-eighth floor, where the C-suite had their offices.
His boss was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to him. Dominic wasn’t sure if he was watching the skyline or tracking Mirabelle’s movements.
He placed the laundry bag on a nearby coffee table.
“Boss, I said everything you told me to. Dropped enough pressure on her to make her nervous. She’s definitely thinking now.” Ashton didn’t turn around.
“Good p>
His voice was calm, but his eyes had that look again—sharp, locked in, like he was already planning how to corner her next.
His personal phone lit up.
Dominic checked the caller ID. “Boss, it’s your father p>
Ashton turned around, took the phone, and answered, “What p>
“That’s exactly what I want to ask,” Reginald snapped. “You walked out of your own damn party. The one meant to introduce you to every major player in Skyline. Half the city’s still buzzing about it. Do you realize the media’s gone p>
“Not my problem.” Ashton leaned back against the glass, fingers drumming on the window ledge.
𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗯𝘆: 𝗀ⱥ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝗍𝖊𝗅𝗌﹒ⅽ𝗈𝗺
“You’re LGH’s CEO. Every damn twitch you make rattles our stock. I happen to own some of it, you know. This affects me, too p>
“Then maybe diversify p>
Reginald ignored that. “They’re saying you collapsed. Or that LGH is sinking and you’ve fled the wheel. I haven’t slept since. Been running PR interference, trying to slap a gag order on some of the more outrageous stories floating out there. You know, you could’ve given me a heads-up before pulling a vanishing act p>
“I don’t owe anyone an explanation. Least of all the jackals circling for a quote. The people who mattered got a call p>
“Some of those ‘jackals’ are long-time partners. Investors. Businessmen who flew in from three time zones away to shake your hand. They were left with hors d’oeuvres and no heir in sight. Do you think that’s good for business p>
“They’ll live. And if they want to keep doing business with LGH, they’ll get over it. Let’s not pretend the economy’s doing great. We’re the last ship worth boarding. They need us more than we need them p>
Silence fell.
Then Reginald tried a new angle. “Fine. You handle the business. But what about the girl p>
Ashton’s jaw ticked. “What about her p>
“The one you said we’d meet but didn’t. What am I supposed to say to your grandfather? He’s convinced he’s got one foot in the grave. He wants a wedding. A great-grandkid. Gwen and I were supposed to meet the girl, and p>
“I’ll talk to him p>
That shut Reginald up for a beat.
Then he conceded, “Alright. I’ll leave that to you, too p>
“Good p>
“Wait, don’t hang up yet!” Reginald’s voice changed, awkward and slippery. “There’s… an opportunity. Some new fund. Hedge-adjacent. I’d need some liquidity to get in early p>
“Just hear me out p>
“No.” Ashton didn’t even blink. “You said that with the golf resort in North Korea. It tanked p>
“This one’s different p>
“You said that too, about the cryotherapy chain. Which, last I checked, froze your assets into near bankruptcy p>
“It’s not the same p>
“Neither was the NFT art gallery. Remember that? The one that ‘just needed influencer traction’ and ended up being a PowerPoint scam with a domain hosted on GoDaddy p>
“Alright, alright. I got your point. But I’m your father and I could use p>
“I might consider helping you,” Ashton said coolly, “if you keep your wife from treating me like the final rose on The Bachelor. I don’t need another list of ‘eligible’ daughters from the Manhattan Yacht Club. Or a random heiress texting me at 3 a.m. because Gwendolyn has given out my number without my permission again p>
Reginald sighed. “She’s just trying to help. You’re almost thirty-one and still single. She wants to see you settled p>
“I’ll settle when I want. What I need now is for her to stop bleeding money on events no one remembers and clothes she’ll never wear. You rein her in, maybe I write a cheque. No promises p>
“Fine. I’ll talk to her p>
Ashton ended the call.
Dominic stepped in, arms full.
“Boss. These are flowers from Miss Grey. Concert tickets from a—uh—Miss Kendra Lucille? Gift baskets from… Miss Yvette Summers, Miss Liliana Hart, and Miss Noemi Bancroft. Oh, and this…” He set down a long velvet case. “An antique flintlock from Miss Desiree Lang. Guess she heard about your little shooting club phase in Switzerland p>
Ashton didn’t even glance at the pile. “Chuck the flowers. Tickets go to whichever secretary fixes the office printer. Gift baskets—food goes to the staff. Whatever can’t be eaten, sell it online. Donate the money to a children’s charity p>
Dominic grinned. “On it, boss. Can I keep one of the concert tickets? I happen to like the band p>
“Sure p>
“Thanks, boss.” Dominic turned to leave, then paused. “Oh. The safe you ordered has arrived. Installed five minutes ago p>
“Good.” Ashton opened the drawer behind him and pulled out a small velvet box.
He flicked it open with one hand.
Inside sat a necklace. Clean lines, high-contrast design, platinum sharp as a whisper.
If Mirabelle were here, she’d have recognized it instantly.
Veyra.
Her design.
The one she’d made for Eliza Black.
The one that had gone viral and drawn all kinds of mixed reviews.
He snapped the box shut and handed it to Dominic.
“Lock this in the safe. Later. Personally p>
Dominic took it. “Yes, boss p>