Sloane had spent four years thinking Doug Mercer was incapable of organizing anything more complicated than a staff lunch.
Now he was pointing a gun at her chest.
That felt insulting on several levels.
“Doug?”
He smiled.
“Surprised?”
“Mostly disappointed.”
His smile faltered.
“You complained about toner for six months.”
Adrian shifted slightly beside her.
Doug raised the gun.
“Don’t.”
Adrian stopped.
Sloane knew that stillness now.
It wasn’t surrender.
It was calculation.
Doug looked at the contract in Adrian’s hand.
“Put it down.”
Adrian did.
“Kick it over.”
The document slid across the floor.
Doug picked it up.
“You were always too curious, Sloane.”
“You used my credentials.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody notices the bookkeeper until something goes wrong.”
Sloane felt anger rise beneath her fear.
“You were going to frame me.”
“If necessary.”
“For stealing millions?”
Doug shrugged.
“You had access.”
“And no money.”
“People believe what they’re given.”
Adrian’s voice was quiet.
“Who are you working for?”
Doug laughed.
“You still think there’s somebody above me?”
“Yes.”
That confidence rattled him.
Adrian continued.
“You don’t have the reach to manipulate my people and O’Donnell’s.”
Doug’s jaw tightened.
“You don’t know me.”
“I know exactly what you are.”
“And what’s that?”
“A middleman who started believing he was important.”
Doug’s face reddened.
Sloane almost groaned.
Provoking the armed accountant was not her preferred strategy.
Then she noticed Adrian’s eyes.
He wasn’t looking at Doug.
He was looking at the glass wall behind him.
A reflection.
Daniel.
Moving silently through the outer office.
Sloane understood.
She needed Doug distracted.
“You made one mistake,” she said.
Doug looked at her.
“What?”
“The $1.8 million transfer.”
His expression shifted.
“You rounded it.”
“What?”
“You always round when you fabricate projections. Even numbers. Clean numbers. Real estate transactions are messy. Taxes, fees, percentages. But you made it exactly $1.8 million because that’s how you think.”
Doug stared at her.
“That’s how I knew it wasn’t mine.”
“You didn’t know anything.”
“I knew enough to copy the files.”
His eyes widened.
“You have copies?”
Sloane smiled.
“Maybe.”
Doug stepped toward her.
“Where?”
Adrian moved.
So did Daniel.
The gunshot exploded.
Sloane screamed.
Adrian slammed into Doug.
The weapon skidded across the floor.
Daniel kicked it away.
Within seconds, Doug was facedown with his arms restrained.
Sloane’s ears rang.
Adrian turned immediately.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
He grabbed her shoulders.
“Sloane.”
“I’m okay.”
His hands moved over her arms, checking.
“I’m okay.”
Only then did she realize Adrian was shaking.
Barely.
But he was.
For the first time, she saw fear on his face.
Not fear for himself.
For her.
Their eyes met.
The office seemed to disappear around them.
Then Daniel cleared his throat.
“We should move.”
Doug laughed from the floor.
“You think this ends with me?”
Adrian turned.
“Who’s above you?”
Doug smiled.
“Patrick O’Donnell knows.”
Sloane frowned.
“Knows what?”
“Ask him why his daughter happened to be carrying the same umbrella.”
The ride back to the estate was silent.
At three in the morning, Patrick O’Donnell arrived.
He was older than Adrian, gray at the temples, with the exhausted expression of a father who had spent the previous night believing his daughter might die.
Sloan O’Donnell came with him.
Seeing the two Sloanes together was almost absurd.
The younger woman stared at Sloane Jenkins.
“So you’re the woman they took instead of me.”
Sloane nodded.
“And you’re the reason I’m never using a black umbrella again.”
Sloan almost smiled.
Patrick didn’t.
He looked at Adrian.
“You took an innocent civilian.”
“My men were manipulated.”
“They were still your men.”
Adrian accepted that without argument.
“Yes.”
That surprised Patrick.
They gathered around the dining-room table.
Sloane spread the records out.
She explained everything.
For years, someone had been creating fake transactions between Vale and O’Donnell businesses.
Small amounts at first.
Then larger.
The goal wasn’t only theft.
It was mistrust.
Each side was being shown evidence that the other was cheating.
Patrick stared at the documents.
“I thought Adrian was skimming partnership assets.”
Adrian nodded.
“I thought you were.”
Sloane looked at them.
“So somebody wanted you fighting.”
Patrick’s face hardened.
“Who?”
Doug had refused to say.
But Sloane had found another clue.
Every fraudulent vendor traced back to a trust.
The trustee was a lawyer.
Richard Vale.
Adrian went completely still.
Sloane looked at him.
“Who is Richard?”
“My uncle.”
Matteo’s father.
The room fell silent.
Adrian sat back.
Years earlier, after Adrian’s father died, Richard had expected to take control of the family organization.
Instead, Adrian had been chosen.
Richard had smiled.
Congratulated him.
Served as an adviser.
And apparently spent years preparing revenge.
Matteo had been helping his own father.
Doug had handled the financial side.
The kidnappings were designed to trigger open conflict between Adrian and Patrick.
If war started, both men could be removed.
Richard would step into the vacuum.
Sloane felt sick.
“He had his own son killed.”
Adrian’s face was stone.
“Yes.”
Patrick leaned forward.
“We finish this together.”
Adrian looked at him.
For years, they had treated each other as enemies.
Now they finally understood who had benefited.
Adrian nodded.
But Sloane saw something else.
Richard still didn’t know they had discovered him.
That gave them one advantage.
The next evening, Adrian found Sloane on the terrace.
Chicago’s distant lights shimmered beyond the grounds.
“You should leave,” he said.
She turned.
“That’s new.”
“I can get you somewhere safe. Federal protection if necessary.”
“You’re releasing me?”
“Yes.”
She had wanted those words from the first minute.
Now they felt strangely complicated.
“Why?”
“Because you were right.”
“About?”
“Protection and control.”
He looked away.
“I crossed that line.”
Sloane studied him.
“You saved my life.”
“That doesn’t erase what I did.”
“No.”
He nodded.
Again, no excuses.
She respected that more than she wanted to.
“After Richard is stopped,” Adrian said, “you can go back to your life.”
“My apartment is destroyed.”
“I’ll replace everything.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I know.”
“Then stop offering it.”
His mouth twitched.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She laughed softly.
Adrian looked at her.
Something changed in the air.
Sloane felt it too.
He stepped closer, slowly enough that she could move away.
She didn’t.
His hand lifted, then stopped before touching her face.
“May I?”
The question mattered.
More than he probably understood.
Sloane nodded.
His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek.
Then he kissed her.
Not like a man claiming something.
Like a man asking.
Sloane kissed him back.
For a few seconds, there were no ledgers, guns, betrayals, or kidnapped heiresses.
Only two people who should never have met.
Then Adrian’s phone rang.
Daniel’s voice was urgent.
“Boss. Richard knows.”
Adrian’s expression changed.
“How?”
“We don’t know.”
A pause.
Then Daniel said the words that turned Sloane cold.
“He took Meatball.”
---