The words had barely left his mouth when heavy, ragged breathing came through the phone, followed by a low growl thick with fury. "Cian, you're courting death!"
Cian laughed.
He found it amusing.
His low chuckle rumbled, carrying a lighthearted glee.
"Fairchild, we're from different worlds. Our paths were never meant to cross. But your woman provoked me, and that's a different story entirely."
Damian Fairchild was already en route on a chartered plane, speaking on a satellite phone.
Though infuriated, he remained composed. "As long as she's unharmed, everything is negotiable."
This was exactly what Cian was waiting to hear.
He chuckled. "Since you're being so generous, Fairchild, shall we discuss a little business?"
Damian Fairchild's voice was cold. "What business?"
Cian's voice took on a knowing edge.
