(Ethan's POV)
I stepped into Wolfe Holdings like I owned the damn skyline. And honestly? I kind of did. The city pulsed below like it knew, or maybe it didn't care at all—either way, I felt untouchable, like a predator surveying its territory… only with better coffee and a hell of a lot more charm.
The boardroom smelled faintly of polished ambition and stale nerves—probably leftover from the panic-fueled meltdown of Marcus and Eleanor. I could practically hear them pacing in some corner of the building, plotting desperate schemes that would never see the light of day. Good. Let them stew. I had champagne plans, not panic.
Mira was there, leaning against the window frame, her arms crossed like she owned the place too. She smiled that sly, slightly amused grin of hers. And I swear, if I didn't keep my hands in check, I'd have been dragging her into my office the second the doors shut. But restraint, Ethan. Always restraint… for now.
