Chapter Ten

Corren’s POV

The Singapore call ended at 11:47 a.m.

I closed the laptop, leaned back in the chair, and let the silence of the office settle around me. Through the glass wall I could still see Ava sitting where I had placed her—hands folded in her lap, back straight, the black dress I had chosen for her falling neatly over her knees. She had not spoken once during the entire meeting. She had simply watched, listened, and absorbed. That quiet obedience pleased me more than I expected.

I dismissed her with a look. She rose, murmured “Yes, Daddy,” and left the office with the soft click of the door. The scent of her lingered for a moment after she was gone. I allowed myself three seconds to remember the way she had trembled over my desk the night before, then locked the thought away. There was work to do.

Marcus entered two minutes later without knocking. He knew the schedule better than anyone.

“Crowe’s people called again,” he said, placing a slim folder on my desk. “They’re offering a revised percentage on the waterfront project. Twenty-two percent instead of the original eighteen. They’re calling it a goodwill adjustment.”

I opened the folder and scanned the numbers. Daniel Crowe had been circling the same stretch of coastline for three years. He wanted the development rights I controlled, and he had grown tired of being told no. The new offer was better than the last, but it still carried the same problem: Crowe himself.

“He’s getting desperate,” I said.

“Or aggressive,” Marcus replied. “There’s a rumor he’s been meeting with two of our minority shareholders. Quiet dinners. No paper trail yet, but the timing is convenient.”

I closed the folder. Outside the window, the formal gardens stretched toward the high perimeter walls. Beyond those walls the city waited, full of men who believed money and pressure could move anything. Most of the time they were right. Most of the time they had never dealt with me.

“Schedule a meeting,” I said. “Here. Friday. I want Crowe on my ground, not his.”

Marcus made a note. “Security?”

“Full detail. Raymond’s team on the gates and the main house. No one enters the inner wing.” I looked up. “And keep Ava away from the east conference rooms that day. I don’t want her near him.”

Marcus’s expression did not change, but I saw the quiet question in his eyes. He had worked for me long enough to recognize when something had shifted in the household. He was also smart enough not to ask.

“Understood.”

After he left, I stood and walked to the window. The estate lay quiet under the midday sun. Somewhere inside the main house Ava was moving through rooms I had given her access to, wearing clothes I had chosen, carrying the memory of my cock and my rules inside her body. The thought sent a slow pull of satisfaction through me. She was adapting faster than I had expected. The shame was still there—I could see it in her eyes—but it no longer stopped her from getting wet when I touched her or from calling me Daddy when I required it.

That progress mattered. The rest of my life was less obedient.

I spent the next three hours on calls. One with the legal team about a shipping dispute in Rotterdam. One with the director of the European holdings regarding a sudden tax inquiry that smelled like a setup. One with the head of security for the downtown tower after a small group of protestors appeared outside the lobby that morning. None of the problems were catastrophic on their own. Together they formed a pattern I did not like. Pressure from different directions, arriving in the same week.

At 3:20 p.m. my private line rang. The number was blocked. I answered anyway.

“Corren.”

Daniel Crowe’s voice came through smooth and faintly amused. “I hear you’re finally willing to talk. Friday works for me. I’ll bring my own numbers.”

“You’ll bring whatever I tell you to bring,” I said. “And you’ll come alone.”

A soft laugh. “Still giving orders from that fortress of yours. One day the walls won’t be high enough.”

I ended the call without answering.

The rest of the afternoon passed in controlled motion. I signed off on the east wing renovation materials, approved a transfer to the Italian property, and reviewed the latest report from Raymond on estate security. Everything inside the walls remained clean. Everything outside felt like it was beginning to lean in.

At 6:40 p.m. I left the office and walked the long hallway toward the main staircase. Staff stepped aside. The house operated on quiet precision; that was how I preferred it. When I reached the upper landing I paused. Faint music drifted from the direction of Ava’s room. I stood there for a moment, listening, then continued to my own suite to change.

By the time I returned downstairs, the sky outside had turned the deep blue of early evening. Marcus was waiting in the foyer with a final update.

“Crowe confirmed for Friday at eleven,” he said. “Also, one of the minority shareholders who had dinner with him last week sold a block of shares this afternoon. Small percentage, but the timing is deliberate.”

I nodded once. “Start buying them back quietly. I want control tightened before the meeting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Marcus left. I remained in the foyer for a moment longer, looking up the staircase. Somewhere above me Ava would be preparing herself for nine o’clock. She would come to the study on time. She would call me Daddy. She would take what I gave her. That part of my world, at least, was beginning to run exactly as I wanted.

The rest of it—the city, the shareholders, Daniel Crowe and whatever game he thought he was playing—would require a different kind of attention.

I turned and walked toward the study, already calculating the next move.

Outside the walls, the pressure was rising.

Inside them, I still held every advantage that mattered.