Page 65 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy

I snatch it up. “Blackwell.”

“Sir,” Tatiana’s voice is crisp, efficient, but underscored with urgency. “Apologies for the intrusion. There’s an emergency at the Hammond Tower site on West 57th. Partial scaffolding collapse. Multiple injuries reported among the crew. Emergency services are en route, but the situation sounds chaotic. I thought you’d—”

Fuck. Hammond Tower.

One of Richard Hammond’s overly ambitious legacy projects.

Already plagued by delays and budget overruns.

Now this.

I sit up immediately, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Problem solving mode engaged. The brief interlude of intimacy evaporates, replaced by ingrained command protocols. “Injuries confirmed? How many? What’s the structural risk to the main tower?”

“Details are still incoming, sir. Initial reports suggest three seriously injured, possibly more with minor injuries. Structural integrity unknown. Ms. Hammond’s father is reportedly on his way to the site, but Ms. Hammond is listed as the primary emergency contact.”

I glance at Lucy. She’s already sitting up, sheet clutched to her chest, her face pale, eyes wide with alarm. She’s looking at her own mobile phone,which must have buzzed at nearly the same time as mine.

“Understood. Mobilize air transport. Wheels up in fifteen minutes. Notify Elijah, I want full security protocol online. Get me direct comms access to FDNY incident command and NYPD onsite lead. Patch me through to Gideon King at King Enterprises, I need his best structural engineering team on standby. And get me everything on the Hammond Tower project specs, contractor safety records, recent inspection reports.Now, Tatiana!”

“Yes, sir.” The line clicks dead.

I stand up, heading towards the closet, already mentally running through checklists. Resources. Logistics. Damage control.

Lucy scrambles out of bed, grabbing her dress from the floor. Her face is drained of color. “Oh my god. Oh my god. You heard?”

I nod grimly. “I did.”

“The crew…” She fumbles with her dress, her hands shaking. “Dad… he’ll be devastated. Those men…”

“We need to get back to the city,” I say, grabbing a shirt. “Helicopter will be ready in fifteen. Victor will take your bags to the landing zone.”

“Your helicopter?” She looks startled.

“Fastest way,” I state flatly. No time for arguments.

I make two more quick calls. One to a contact high up in the city’s emergency management office, ensuring priority access and accurate intel flow. Another to the head of the construction firm Hammond contracted, a firm I happen to have significant leverage over due to past dealings, and demand immediate accountability and fullcooperation.

Power. Used effectively.

Lucy finishes dressing quickly, her earlier vulnerability replaced by anxious energy. The businesswoman is back online, worry etched onto her features.

As we head towards the landing pad at the edge of the property, Elijah Reeves and Maya Chen fall into step beside us, alert, professional. Their presence is a grounding reminder of my world.

Security. Distance. Control.

The helicopter blades whip the air into a frenzy as we lift off, the Hamptons coastline shrinking below. Lucy sits beside me, staring tensely out the window towards the city skyline, already on her phone, trying to reach her father and her site manager.

I watch her profile. The determined set of her jaw. The worry in her eyes. The way she’s already shifting into crisis management mode. That innate strength of hers, which I always find so compelling, is on full display again.

A thought hits me, then, with the force of a physical blow.

She’s become important.

Not just a target. Not just a complication. Not just a temporary lapse in control.

Important.

Her problems feel like my problems.