Chapter 16

Seraphina had been going through Bellamy’s operational reports for three hours when her ops director knocked and let herself in without waiting for an answer.

“You need to see this.”

“I need coffee more.”

“You need to see this first.”

Seraphina set her pen down and held out her hand for the folder. She scanned the first page, then the second, then went back to the first because she was certain she had misread it.

“This is the terminal contract.”

“The one attached to the cargo facility, yes.”

“I read this before I closed the deal.”

“You read the acquisition terms. This is the operational file. Nobody pulls the operational file until after close. That’s standard.”

Seraphina kept reading. The terminal wasn’t just valuable because of the shipping lanes it touched. It was valuable because of exactly which lanes, the ones Devereaux Holdings had spent two years building an expansion plan around. Contracts were already signed downstream. Clients had already been promised delivery windows that depended on access she now controlled and he no longer had.

Seraphina closed the folder slowly.

“Ma’am?”

“I’m thinking.”

“You’re smiling.”

Seraphina looked up. “I am not.”

“You are. It’s a little unsettling, honestly.”

“Get out.”

Her ops director left, still looking faintly disturbed.

Seraphina sat with the folder a moment longer, letting the implications settle. She had wanted access to his life again, some door back into it that didn’t require explaining who she used to be. She hadn’t expected him to hand her one himself.

Her assistant knocked twenty minutes later.

“Devereaux Holdings called. They want a meeting about the terminal.”

“Did he now.”

“His office called. Someone named Petra, on his behalf.”

“He didn’t call himself.”

“No.”

Seraphina almost laughed. Of course he hadn’t. Calling her directly would have meant admitting he needed something from her, and admitting that wasn’t a habit Cassian had ever bothered building. Sending an assistant let him keep pretending he was still in control.

“What exactly did his lackey say?”

“That Devereaux Holdings would like to discuss terminal access terms at Ms. Voss’s earliest convenience.” Her assistant paused. “Her words. Earliest convenience. From him, that’s basically begging.”

“It isn’t begging if he doesn’t say it himself.”

“Sure. Keep telling yourself that.” Her assistant tapped her tablet. “Should I schedule something?”

Seraphina considered making him wait a few days, just to see what it did to him. She decided against it.

“Reply that he can come by tomorrow. Eleven.”

“Here? Not somewhere neutral?”

“Here.” Seraphina looked up. “He’s the one asking. He can come to me.”

Her assistant made the note and left.

He arrived at eleven the next morning, precisely on time.

Her assistant appeared in the doorway first.

“Devereaux is downstairs.”

“Let him wait.”

“How long?”

Seraphina glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes should do it.”

Her assistant almost smiled. “You’re enjoying this.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

She let him sit eleven minutes, one longer than she’d planned, because she could, and because some small, petty part of her wanted him to notice.

He regarded her with what seemed to be amusement.

“Mr. Devereaux.” She didn’t stand. “This is unexpected.”

“Is it?”

“You don’t usually come to me.”

“You don’t usually have something I need.” He took the seat across from her desk without waiting to be offered it. “Terminal access. Bellamy’s cargo facility, specifically.”

“I’m aware of what I own.”

“I assumed you would be.”

She opened the folder in front of her, more for effect than because she needed it. She already knew what she needed to. “You have an expansion timeline. Contracts signed downstream that assume access you no longer have.”

His expression didn’t change.

“You’ve been looking into my business.”

“You looked into mine first, Mr. Devereaux. I’m only returning the courtesy.”

“That’s not what I’d call it.”

“Call it whatever helps you sleep.” She closed the folder. “The terminal is mine. I imagine that’s the part you’re having trouble with.”

“I’m not having trouble with anything.”

“No?” She leaned back in her chair, unhurried. “You sent someone from your office to schedule this meeting instead of picking up the phone yourself. From where I sit, I see a man trying very hard not to look like he needs something.”

Something flickered across his face, gone before she could name it.

“I don’t need anything from you.”

“Then why are you here?”

He didn’t answer immediately, and she let the silence stretch.

“I’m here,” he said eventually, “because it’s more efficient than watching my legal team spend the next six months trying to route around a facility I don’t control.”

“That sounds a great deal like need to me.”

“It sounds like business.”

“Everything sounds like business to you.” She tilted her head slightly. “Even when it isn’t.”

“Are we going to discuss terms, or are you going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

She watched him decide whether arguing with her was worth the time it would cost him, and watched him decide it wasn’t.

“Fine.” He sat back slightly. “Terms.”

“I haven’t decided on terms yet.”

“You called me here to discuss terms you haven’t decided on?”

“I called you here because you asked to come. There’s a difference.” She folded her hands on the desk. “I need to understand exactly how much this costs you first. Then I’ll know what to charge for it.”

“That’s not how negotiations work.”

“It’s exactly how my negotiations work, Mr. Devereaux.”

“You’re enjoying this,” he said finally, echoing her assistant’s words without knowing it.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You do.” His voice dropped, quieter than before. “You’ve been waiting for something like this.”

Seraphina kept her expression even. “You give yourself a great deal of credit, assuming everything I do revolves around you.”

“I didn’t say everything.”

“You implied it.”

“I implied that you like having something I need.” A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth. “That’s different from being about me specifically.”

“Careful, Mr. Devereaux. That’s dangerously close to a compliment.”

“I’m capable of those. Occasionally.”

“Two weeks,” she said, changing course before the moment could tip further than she wanted it to. “I’ll have terms drafted in two weeks. Short lease, not the long term arrangement your legal team is hoping for. We’ll revisit rates at renewal.”

“Two weeks is a long time on my timeline.”

“Then I suggest you clear your schedule for follow-up meetings, Mr. Devereaux. I imagine we’ll need several.”

Something in his face shifted, and for a second she thought he might push back on the timeline.

“You’re going to make me come back here. Repeatedly.”

“If that’s what it takes to get the terms right.”

“How convenient for you.”

“I run a company, Mr. Devereaux. Efficiency isn’t always the goal.”

She stood, a clear enough signal that the meeting was over whether he agreed or not.

“Petra can schedule the next one.”

He rose slowly, straightening his jacket before turning toward the door.

“I don’t mind coming back here if it means I get to see you more often.” He glanced at her jacket. “Nice jacket, by the way.”

Seraphina looked down at the purple two-tone blazer she was wearing and scowled.

“Bye, Mr. Devereaux.”