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It was the worst sort of gutlessness.

“That’s interesting.” Emmanuelle’s expression shifted back to neutral. “Wentworth called me this morning, screaming about how Ayana assaultedhim. He has the injuries and ER records to prove it. He said he’s on the verge of pressing charges.”

Let him.

She stared at the words on the paper. The implied threat behind them hung heavy in the air.

When she spoke again, caution edged her voice. “I’m not his boss, Mr. Markovic. I don’t let himdoanything. I have no control over his decisions.”

But you have control over your agency’s bookings.The simmer had reached a boil, but I kept it contained for now.Don’t put any of your models in a room with that man ever again.

“That’s quite a demand for someone who doesn’t work in fashion and whom I’ve never spoken to before,” Emmanuelle said. She studied me. “You’re Jordan Ford’s best man, correct?”

I responded with a cool stare. We both knew the answer.

“I’m curious.” She ran a sharp red nail over the black text on the paper. “Why are you the one here discussing the situation and not her fiancé?”

Because she’s fuckingmine.

Jordan was her fiancé in name, but I was the one she’d turned to first. I was the one who understood what she needed—not comfort, but vengeance. I was the one who would kill and die for her in the same breath.

No other man could match that, ring or no ring.

I smiled. It lacked the emotion of a true smile, and it was a deliberate facsimile of the real thing. The motion twisted the scar around my mouth.

Emmanuelle swallowed. A flicker of revulsion crossed her face.

I stood, and she blanched when the metal legs of the chair screeched against the floor.

I walked out without answering her question.

I waited until I hit the sidewalk before I pulled out my phone and logged into an encrypted app.

I’d wanted to confront Emmanuelle about Wentworth, but I’d had another, ulterior motive: the tiny surveillance device I’d stuck to the bottom of her desk while she’d been distracted by my note.

It was currently broadcasting loud and clear from her office.

I was about to pocket my phone when it buzzed with a new text.

Sean:We’re ready for you.

This time, my smile was almost genuine.

The day was looking up already.

* * *

Forty minutes later, I arrived at an industrial neighborhood deep in Brooklyn. Unlike the trendy areas closer to the city, this particular corner of the borough was a collection of graffiti and empty streets. Abandoned warehouses squatted along cracked sidewalks paved with grime. Even the skies here loomed grayer overhead.

The chances of anyone randomly wandering by were slim to none.

I parked behind warehouse number five and entered through the back exit.

Sean was already waiting for me outside the old storage room in the back. “We picked him up on his way home,” he said. “No one saw us, and we kept him blindfolded the entire time so he doesn’t know where we are.”

Good.I reached for the door handle. I was hungering to get in there, but my security chief stopped me.

“One more thing.” His voice lowered. “I investigated your…friend’s claims. No one would give me a straight answer, but they heavily suggest that he’s telling the truth. The entire underworld’s on edge. They’re rarely so jumpy unless something big is happening.” Sean rubbed a hand over his mouth. “We could try to hire the Brotherhood through a proxy and see what happens, but that would be risky.”