Page 150 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy

The old Christopher.

The Executioner.

He’s back in full force for the rest of the world. Necessary when you’re fighting a war on multiple fronts, especially when one front is your own goddamn father.

It’s illogical, I suppose. Defending a company whose CEO politely but firmly kicked me to the curb. Pouring resources into protecting an entity my father is actively trying to destroy.

But logic feels increasingly irrelevant where Lucy is concerned.

Dominic Rossi catches me late one afternoon, finding me staring broodingly out my office window at the city below. He’s one of the few people who are allowed to come and go unannounced.

He pours himself a drink from my bar without asking.

Some things never change.

“Burning the midnight oil fighting a war you didn’t start?” he asks, swirling the scotch. “Or perhaps one you inadvertently fueled?”

“My father started this war decades ago,” I reply curtly, not turning around.

“Maybe,” Dominic concedes. “But this current offensive? It has a specific target. I heard about the board meeting drama. Heard Lucy Hammond drewa professional line. So why the hell are you mobilizing your entire arsenal to save a company whose leader just put you firmly in the friend zone… or maybe the ‘conflicted business associate’ zone?” He takes a sip. “Seems like a waste of resources, fighting for someone who chose her career over you.”

I finally turn, fixing him with a cold stare. “She didn’t choose her careeroverme. She chose to do herjob. The job I encouraged her to take. She established a necessary boundary to maintain her authority and avoid a blatant conflict of interest while fighting off a takeover bid launched by my fucking father.” I take a breath, reigning in the anger. “Her doing that, proving she has the backbone to lead, especially against that kind of pressure? That deserves respect. And support. Regardless of our personal relationship status.”

Even if respecting it feels like chewing on fucking glass.

Dominic studies me for a long moment, then nods slowly. “All right, Chris. Didn’t think you had it in you. Respecting boundaries instead of just blowing through them.” He raises his glass slightly. “To evolution, I guess.”

Respecting her boundaries doesn’t mean rolling over for my father, though. His using Lucy’s appointment as justification, his deliberate, personal attack… it requires a more direct response. He thinks he can use his position on my board to hamstring me while launching attacks from his own company? Fine. Two can play that game. I still hold a significant minority stake, and a board seat, inhiscompany as well. A legacy arrangement from years ago.

Time to leverage it.

I call my father. “We need to talk. Yourhome office.”

Predictably, he tries to brush me off. Equally predictably, I don’t let him. An hour later, I’m standing in his ostentatious study again.

“Changed your mind about Hammond?” he sneers as I walk in.

“Hardly,” I reply coolly. “I’m here to talk about your fiduciary duty to Blackwell Holdings.”

His eyes narrow. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Your hostile takeover attempt of Hammond & Co.,” I state flatly. “Launched using the resources of Blackwell Holdings, based on flimsy justification regarding their new CEO, timed precisely to inflict maximum damage not just on them, but on the Blackwell Innovations partnership agreement already in place. An agreement I presented to our board, an agreement vital toourlong-term strategy.” I let the accusation hang there. “It reeks of personal vendetta, Father. Not sound business judgment. Pursuing this vendetta using company resources, potentially damaging a key strategic partnership for Blackwell Innovations where youalsosit as a board member… is reckless. It exposes Blackwell Holdings to unnecessary risk and potential legal challenges.”

“Are you threatening me with my own company?” he scoffs, though a flicker of uncertainty enters his eyes.

“I’m pointing out facts,” I counter. “And I’m calling an emergency meeting of the Blackwell Holdings board to discuss whether this personal crusade is an appropriate use of company assets.”

Checkmate, you old bastard.

I don’t even wait for a response. I just leave.

I smile grimly on the way out.

I can almost hear the wheels of my plan, grinding, and in motion.

The emergency boardmeeting at Blackwell Holdings is even more tense than the one at my company. I lay out the case clinically. Mark’s long-standing animosity towards Richard Hammond. The timing of the takeover bid immediately following Lucy’s appointment. The potential damage to the synergistic Project Nightingale partnership. The reputational risk of launching such an aggressive, seemingly personal attack.

Meanwhile Mark fumes, argues business opportunity, Hammond vulnerability. But his arguments sound thin, transparently motivated by spite.