Chapter Eleven

My hands were raw.

It was 2:00 AM, and I was sitting on the cold tile of the penthouse laundry room, scrubbing the last faint trace of espresso out of Kai’s white hoodie. Every time I rubbed the fabric, my mind flashed back to the locker room, the heavy press of his body, the heat of his shirtless chest, and the terrifyingly arrogant way he’d told me to hand-wash only.

"Grown men acting like toddlers," I muttered, wringing out the heavy cotton. "I’m supposed to be taming them, not doing their dry cleaning."

I didn't get to sleep until four. By seven, I was back in a tailored suit, standing in the formal dining room where breakfast was served. The atmosphere was suffocating. Usually, the brothers avoided each other like the plague, but today, all four of them were present.

Lucien sat at the head, looking like an icy king reading the financial times. Damon was across from him, nursing a black coffee, his leather jacket replaced by a sharp black button-down that still couldn't hide his dangerous aura. Theo was spinning a silver spoon on his plate, looking bored, while Kai sat at the end, staring at a tablet with a scowl that told me he was still pissed about yesterday.

I stepped forward, placing the freshly pressed hoodie onto the empty chair next to Kai. "Spotless. As requested."

Kai didn't look up from his tablet. He just flicked a finger, dismissing me like a stray dog. "Put it in my room next time. And don't burn the fabric."

Before I could snap back with the insult tasting like copper on my tongue, Lucien cleared his throat. The sound was loud enough to stop Theo’s spoon from spinning.

"Sit down, Scarlett," Lucien commanded, not looking up from his paper.

I hesitated, but sat at the far end of the long mahogany table.

"We received a directive from the Board of Directors this morning," Lucien started, folding the paper with precise, terrifying neatness. He finally looked at his brothers, his eyes scanning each of them. "After Damon's… extracurricular activities in the warehouse district two nights ago, and Theo’s little stunt with the media at the gallery yesterday, the board is panicking. Our stocks took a two-percent dip because the media is painting us as unstable."

Damon let out a dark, mocking chuckle. "Let them panic. They like the money the 'unstable' brothers bring in."

"Not this time," Lucien snapped, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. "The Founders Gala is this Friday. It’s the biggest charity event of the year, and the board has made it clear: if we show up looking like a fractured circus, they will vote to restructure the executive veto power. In short they want us controlled."

"Good luck to them," Kai muttered, his fingers flying across his screen.

"They aren't controlling us," Lucien said, his icy gaze suddenly shifting down the table until it landed squarely on me. "They’re using her."

Every eye at the table snapped to me. I felt the air leave my lungs.

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice tight.

"The board has officially appointed you as our 'Social Liaison and Image Manager' for the Gala," Lucien said, the word manager sounding like an insult coming from his lips. "According to the legal addendum our father left behind, you have the authority to act as the board's eyes. If any one of us refuses to attend, or causes a public scene, you have the power to sign off on a 'Conduct Breach.' That breach gives the board the right to freeze our private funding for the Marigold project."

Silence descended on the room like a lead weight.

Theo stopped smiling. The "Golden Boy" mask vanished, replaced by a cold, petulant glare. "You’re letting a common stripper hold the reins to my gallery funding, Lucien? Are you insane?"

"She isn't holding anything," Damon growled, leaning forward, his eyes locking onto mine with a predatory intensity that made my skin crawl. He didn't look like my savior from the alley anymore. He looked like the man who would bury me. "If she thinks she’s going to use a little piece of board paper to tell me where to stand and when to breathe, she’s going to find out how deep that lake really is."

"I don't play well with handlers," Kai added, his voice dripping with venom as he finally looked at me. "If you try to audit my schedule, Scarlett, I’ll leak your entire history to the press before the sun goes down. Let's see how the board likes their little liaison when they find out who she really is."

I felt the walls closing in. They weren't just annoyed; they were furious. They saw me as a leash, a tool the board was using to humiliate them.

"I didn't ask for this," I said, standing up, refusing to let them see me shake. I gripped the edge of the table, looking straight at Lucien. "You think I want to manage four arrogant, power-tripping billionaires at a high-society ball? I’m just trying to survive in this house."

Lucien stood up, matching my height, his expression completely devoid of the guilt he’d felt the night before. "You don't have a choice, Scarlett. And neither do we. You are going to dress up, you are going to walk into that ballroom on our arms, and you are going to make the world believe we are a united front. But don't get comfortable with the power the board gave you."

He leaned over the table, his face inches from mine, his breath cold against my cheek.

"Because the moment that Gala is over, the leash comes off. And we don't forget who tried to hold it."