04: Wild card

CALVIN

~

Ambrose hasn’t killed us yet, which feels increasingly impressive considering he’s currently treating Manhattan's traffic like a fun maze.

I’m almost certain we’ve run two red lights in the last five minutes alone. At this point, my assistant will be dealing with traffic citations before noon tomorrow.

All this trouble because Arthur Lockwood decided to host another cocktail dinner nobody actually wants to attend.

I suspect Art knows nobody would willingly attend one of these unless there’s another reason attached to it, which explains why tonight is supposedly in honor of one of Marinette’s social milestones.

I stopped trying to keep track about those years ago. Still, Art and I go back far enough that declining the invitation would’ve caused more trouble than attending it.

Ambrose takes another aggressive turn that throws us slightly sideways before laughing under his breath.

“Relax.” he cackles. “We’ll be there in fifteen.”

No shit.

My attention stays fixed on my phone, skimming through another article about Halberg Enterprises and its steadily collapsing shares.

The numbers are worse today.

Nothing substantial has been done about the decline yet, which means the entire industry has started circling like sharks.

At the center of it all is Robert Halberg’s silence and his hot-headed heiress, Ariana Halberg’s disappearance after being the catalyst of the disruption. Arguably, she’d just caught her fiancé with another woman. But it’s been two weeks without issuing a statement or instating another CEO which has been very dire. Robert hasn’t said anything because he’s spoiled his daughter to the brim with his unshakable trust.

Touching, I must confess.

“There’s a bet going around now,” Ambrose says after glancing toward my screen. “How low the shares drop before the company completely implodes.”

I lock my phone and lean back against the seat. “If Robert Halberg doesn’t step in soon, they won’t make it to the end of the month.”

Ambrose lets out a low whistle.

“He really gambled everything on Holloway.” The hotel finally comes into view ahead of us, glowing against the Manhattan skyline. “Imagine losing the company because your future son-in-law couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

My lips twitch.

Who would've thought?

After decades of building one of the country's most formidable companies, Robert Halberg's costliest mistake would turn out to be trusting Nathan Holloway—or, by extension, his daughter's faith in him.

Nathan had always struck me as painfully predictable. Too performative. The sort of man who mistakes arrogance for intelligence simply because no one has ever bothered to punch him hard enough to correct the misconception.

For the better part of a year, he’s been poking at me with the kind of forced hostility that comes from men desperate to have their names spoken in the same sentence as yours. It would’ve been amusing if he wasn’t so transparent about it.

I wouldn’t deny that I’d spared some time to decide where to draw his blood.

“I didn’t think Ariana Halberg would react like this though,” Ambrose muses. “I thought she was obsessed enough to forgive him eventually.”

“She’s proud.” I say as he pulls into the hotel entrance. “People like her don’t handle humiliation well.”

The impression stuck years ago after the article she'd written about me. Surgical enough to disorient my PR cabinet. Arrogant enough to irritate me. We'd crossed paths at enough events afterward, exchanging nothing beyond polite greetings. She always looked like she had a rebuttal prepared in case I ever mentioned it—and didn't particularly care whether I liked it.

Pride like doesn't fold easily.

Ambrose grins. “I’d pay good money to see what Holloway looks like right now. I bet he’s been having recurring nightmares about losing both his fiancé and his position.”

I would, however, pay much more to know what could be going through Ariana Halberg’s head right now.

I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out of the car. Ambrose follows, falling into step beside me as we head inside.

I’ve already decided this will be quick. Show my face to Arthur and Marinette and then leave. In and out.

I adjust my suit as the elevator slows, chiming as the door slides open. Ambrose starts talking about dinner beside me, but I’m only half listening. Something in the corridor pulls me forward before I’ve even fully stepped out.

A suited man first, stationary, like he’s mid-interruption, and then something slips past him before I can assign meaning to it.

Deep blue dress.

A woman.

She breezes straight toward me before I even have time to properly register her.

Then she’s in front of me. Close enough that the entire corridor collapses into her.

A hand catches my suit—

and then her mouth is on mine.

For a second, neither thought nor instinct responds. The time just feels suspended.

My brain is still trying to catch up when—

“ARIANA—WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” A voice, quite familiar, growls breaking through the haze.

My eyes shift.

Nathan Holloway.

He’s watching wide-eyed, face heating with fury as the woman sucks on my lips like it should mean something. His expression tells me all I need to know about what’s happening and who is currently latched onto me. Ariana Halberg.

She's using me to spite him.

If this isn’t a wild card situation.

Ariana suddenly shifts against me, like she’s only just remembered there’s a world outside this moment.

My hand tightens at her waist before she can pull away, steadying her there as I deepen the kiss. She hesitates, but she doesn’t break it. The rhythm changes on its own, slower now, fully aware of every second I choose not to end it.

She’s breathless when I finally pull away. She doesn’t bother looking at me as she drops her head against my shoulder.

My lips curve.

Nathan’s face is a sight when my eyes dart toward him. His jaw is clenched like he’s chewing on granite, his face is flushed from the neck and up to the tip of his ear. The look in his eyes is feral as he glares at me, at my hand still on Ariana’s waist.

“Ariana, do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” He grinds out, shaking from rage.

“What? I kissed someone, Nathan, or is that reserved for you and your girlfriend?” Ariana spats, her voice cold.

He huffs, pointing his index at me. “So you kissed him— Calvin Grey just to spite me?”

That does it.

Ariana stiffens against me the second she hears my name but seconds pass and she doesn’t make a move to step away.

The curve of my lips deepens.

I guess I’m on the roster now.

“You really think she’d go this far just to spite you?” I tilt my head slightly. “That’s a very generous opinion of yourself, Holloway.”

“Don’t fucking speak, Grey.” He barks, nose flaring as anger rolls off him in waves. “This is between me and my wife.”

“She was never your wife, man,” Ambrose steps forward then, clearly amused. “Almost. But it never happened.”

A mix of disbelief, humiliation and fury clouds Nathan’s expression. None of it sits well on him.

He takes a step forward, gaze fixed on Ariana like he’s trying to peel the truth out of her by force.

“So this is what you’ve been doing?” he asks, then lets out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “You moved on with him? When? Were you fucking him while—”

“Fuck you, Nathan.” Ariana cuts in. She straightens against me, her glare sharp enough to draw blood. “I’m not like you. But since you’re so desperate to know when, I’ve been gone for two weeks and Calvin has been very good company.”

Oh, have I?

While that is a blatant lie and anyone with an ounce of perception can see through it, Nathan, as always, is far too full of himself to notice.

The idiot goes rigid.

Then his composure snaps almost immediately. His eyes flash and the next second he's lunging to attack.

“You bastard—”

“Watch it, buddy.” Ambrose steps between us just as I pull Ariana closer against my side.

The movement startles her slightly. I feel it before I see it.

Before the situation can deteriorate further, a staff member rounds the corner from the ballroom, her expression tightening at the scene.

“Excuse me, gentlemen.” Her gaze moves between Nathan and I before settling on Ariana. “Ma’am… is there a problem here?”

“None,” I answer smoothly before anyone else can speak, steering Ariana away. “Miss Halberg and I were just heading inside.”

The woman hesitates, clearly unconvinced, but nods anyway before retreating back toward the ballroom.

I glance over my shoulder once as we begin walking. Nathan is still standing there, breathing hard enough to look unstable. Pathetic.

“Holloway,” I call, “I’d suggest finding somewhere private for this little breakdown.”

His jaw clenches.

I let my gaze flick toward Ariana before looking back at him.

“Shouting won’t change the fact that those two weeks seem to have treated her very well.”

“Ariana!” Nathan’s voice follows us down the corridor, sharp enough to echo.

She doesn’t turn back, but I catch the way her jaw tightens beside me.

Interesting.

I must say, Arthur’s party, for the first time in a while does not look to be a complete waste of time.