Chapter 20: Ninety Percent

RAYA

The black SUV didn't pull up to an office. It pulled up to the front steps of the Verimont Grand Hotel.

I looked out the rain-slicked window at the flashing lights and the crowd of photographers gathered outside the glass doors.

"What are we doing here?" I asked, turning to Xavier. "The warehouse—"

"The warehouse is a pile of ashes," Xavier said calmly, not even glancing at the crowd outside. "Your family wants everyone to think I'm hiding in a boardroom panicking over a fire. So we're going to lunch."

I stared at him. "Lunch?"

"Victor's inside," Nadia said from the front seat, turning around with a sharp, subtle smile. "He hosted a press luncheon with three major Sinclair Gems investors to announce he's taking full control of the family estate."

Xavier didn't wait. He slid across the leather seat, stepping out into the light rain. Before the hotel staff could even run over with an umbrella, he turned and extended a hand to me.

His grip was heavy, warm, and steady. When my heels hit the wet pavement, he didn't pull away. He tucked my hand firmly into the crook of his arm, shielding me with his shoulder as the flashbulbs went off around us.

"Keep your head up, Raya," he murmured, his voice low against my ear, sending a sudden spike of heat straight through the cold air. "Look at them like they owe you money."

A small, fierce spark ignited in my chest.

For twenty years, Victor Sinclair made me feel like an outsider in my own home, forcing me to sit at the foot of the table while he decided my life. Now, walking into the most exclusive dining room in the city on the arm of the most dangerous man in Verimont, I wasn't the scared adopted girl anymore.

The heavy glass doors swung open.

The grand dining room was filled with the city's elite, soft piano music, crystal chandeliers, the hushed chatter of money.

The moment Xavier walked in, the room went dead silent.

Conversations died mid-sentence. Utensils clinked against china and stopped. Every pair of eyes snapped toward us.

Right at the center table, holding a glass of champagne with a smug, victorious smile, was Victor. Sitting beside him was my mother, Margaret, looking pale and nervous in diamonds.

Victor's smile froze the exact second his eyes landed on me. Then his gaze flicked to Xavier, and the color slowly drained from his face.

He'd thought we were at the police precinct. He'd thought we were wringing our hands over a burned distribution hub.

Instead, Xavier walked right past the maître d', taking his time, his posture entirely relaxed as he guided me straight toward Victor's table.

"Victor," Xavier said, his voice carrying easily through the quiet room. He didn't raise it. He didn't look angry. He looked like a man who owned the air everyone else was breathing. "I heard you were celebrating."

Victor swallowed hard, forcing his chin up as he stood from his chair, trying to recover his posture in front of his investors. "Xavier. I didn't expect to see you out today. Given the unfortunate news about your property."

"A minor inconvenience," Xavier replied smoothly. He reached out, pulling a chair back for me at the adjacent, empty head table, the best seat in the house.

I sat down, crossing my legs, looking Victor dead in the eye.

"Raya," my mother whispered, her hand trembling against her wine glass. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why not, Margaret?" I asked softly, my voice sweet and razor-sharp. "Victor sent me a text this morning saying I was going to be left with nothing. I thought I'd come see how my inheritance is doing."

Victor's jaw tightened, his eyes darting toward the investors at his table, who were now whispering among themselves, picking up on the sudden shift in the room.

"This is a private business lunch," Victor hissed, leaning over his table, dropping his voice. "You have no right to show your face here after what you did to the Sinclair name."

Before Victor could finish, Xavier stepped into his space.

He didn't touch him. He didn't make a scene. He simply leaned down slightly, resting one hand on the back of Victor's chair, imposing his frame over my stepfather until Victor was forced to lean back.

"She has the right to be anywhere she wants in this city," Xavier said softly, his tone flat and utterly terrifying. "Because every contract holding your company afloat is currently sitting on my desk."

Victor's eyes widened slightly. "What are you talking about?"

"Check your phone, Victor."

Victor's hand shook as he reached into his jacket, pulling out his screen.

I watched the exact second the reality hit him. His face went gray. His knuckles turned white around the phone.

Xavier hadn't just sued him. He hadn't just filed a motion in court. While Victor was busy buying a match to burn a warehouse, Xavier had quietly bought out ninety percent of Sinclair Gems' primary debt from the central bank.

"You don't own Sinclair Gems anymore, Victor," Xavier said, leaning in an inch closer, his voice a low rumble. "My wife does. And if you ever text her again, I won't just take your company. I'll take your house."

The silence at the table was suffocating. Victor couldn't speak. His investors stared at him in shock, realizing they were sitting with a man who had just been stripped bare in broad daylight.

Xavier didn't give him another second. He turned back to me, the harsh edge instantly vanishing from his eyes.

He reached down, taking my hand, his thumb brushing against my knuckles as he pulled me up from my seat.

"Come on, Raya," he said, his voice smooth, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "The food here is terrible anyway."

A small, breathless laugh escaped my lips.

I held onto his arm as we turned our backs on my stunned family, walking out while the whispers exploded behind us.

When we stepped back into the quiet, rain-slicked backseat of the SUV, my heart was hammering against my ribs, not out of fear, but pure, intoxicating adrenaline.

The door clicked shut, cutting off the world.

I turned to look at Xavier. He was unbuttoning his suit jacket, pulling off his tie in one fluid motion, looking completely unbothered by the bomb he'd just dropped.

"You bought his debt?" I whispered, my voice shaking slightly. "When did you even do that?"

"Same time I told Nadia to move on the seizure. In the car, this morning." He tossed his tie onto the seat. "You just watched it close."

He turned his head to look at me. In the dim light of the tinted windows, his eyes were heavy, intense, and completely locked onto mine.

"Nobody threatens you, Raya," he said, reaching out, his hand coming up to cup the side of my neck, his thumb resting gently against my pulse. "Not under my roof. Not in my city."

My breath hitched. The space between us in the backseat suddenly felt entirely too small, the lingering adrenaline from the restaurant melting straight into heat.

I didn't pull away. I leaned into his touch, my hand coming up to rest flat against his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath his shirt.

"Xavier," I murmured.

His eyes dropped to my lips, lingering there a long second, his thumb stroking my jaw.

Before he could close the distance, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He didn't let go of my neck right away. He held my gaze one more heartbeat, his breath warm against my skin, before he pulled the phone out with his free hand and tapped the screen.

It was an automated security alert from the penthouse.

The screen flashed red.

PERIMETER BREACH: RESIDENCE MAIN GATE.