Chapter 4: The Ultimate Checkmate

For a long, agonizing moment, the only sound in the VIP viewing room was the blood rushing in Charlotte’s ears.

She stared at the man standing casually in front of a million-dollar abstract canvas. The charcoal suit. The sharp jawline. The dark, consuming eyes that had memorized every inch of her body just hours ago.

"You," Charlotte whispered, the professional mask completely falling from her face.

Edward took a slow, deliberate step toward her. The sheer presence of the man seemed to shrink the spacious room. "Edward Stewart. It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, Miss Morrison."

Charlotte’s mind was spinning so fast she felt nauseous. The panic was quickly being swallowed by a rising, fiery indignation. "This isn't a coincidence. You knew who I was last night."

"I did," Edward admitted, completely unapologetic. He slipped one hand into his trouser pocket, looking at her with that same intense, predatory gaze from the bar. "I knew exactly who you were."

"And you bought my family's gallery?" Charlotte’s voice trembled with a mix of anger and disbelief. "What kind of sick game are you playing? You buy me a drink, sleep with me, and then buy my workplace by seven in the morning?"

"I didn't buy your workplace, Charlotte," Edward corrected, his voice a low, smooth purr that sent an involuntary shiver down her spine. "I bought a fifty-one percent controlling interest in the Morrison family legacy. Mr. Vance was all too eager to cash out."

"I quit," Charlotte said instantly. She took a step back, her hands balling into fists. "I am the director here, but I will walk out that door right now. Keep the gallery, Mr. Stewart. You can run it yourself."

She turned on her heel to leave, but his voice stopped her dead in her tracks.

"If you walk out that door, you abandon three generations of Morrison family history," Edward said calmly. "I’ve seen the books, Charlotte. I know how hard you've worked to make this place profitable enough to buy those shares back. If you leave, I won't guarantee the gallery survives the year.”

Charlotte whipped around, her eyes blazing. "You wouldn't."

"Try me," he challenged, the dark smirk returning to his lips. "You ran from me this morning. I simply ensured that you wouldn't be able to run again. You are under contract as the gallery director, and as your new majority shareholder, I expect you to fulfill your duties. Starting with a private meeting in my office tomorrow morning at eight."

He had trapped her. Charlotte hated admitting it, but he had found the one thing she couldn't abandon.

Before Charlotte could unleash the barrage of curses fighting their way up her throat, the heavy frosted glass doors of the VIP room flew open with a dramatic bang.

"Tell me it isn't true!"

Charlotte jumped, breaking eye contact with Edward.

Standing in the doorway was Nancy Hayes. Charlotte’s best friend was a hurricane in a tailored fuchsia blazer, designer sunglasses pushed up into her dark hair, and a dangerously spiked iced coffee clutched in her manicured hand. As the city’s most ruthless PR fixer, Nancy made a living out of managing disasters, and she currently looked ready to commit murder.

"Tell me some corporate vulture did not just buy out Vance's shares from under us while I was stuck in a meeting," Nancy demanded, marching into the room before suddenly freezing.

She finally noticed the towering, intimidating presence of the man standing a few feet from Charlotte. Nancy lowered her sunglasses, her sharp eyes scanning Edward from his expensive shoes to his perfectly styled dark hair.

"Oh," Nancy said, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow. "You're the vulture."

Edward actually chuckled, a deep, rich sound. He looked entirely unfazed by Nancy’s hostile entrance. "Edward Stewart. And you must be Nancy Hayes. I’ve read your agency's portfolio. You do good work."

Nancy narrowed her eyes, completely immune to his charm. "I'd say it's a pleasure, Mr. Stewart, but I never lie in my favorite blazer. Now, if you don't mind, I need to borrow my best friend."

Edward glanced back at Charlotte. The amusement in his eyes faded, replaced by that heavy, possessive intensity that made her breath catch.

"Of course," Edward said softly. "We're finished here for today anyway." He walked past them toward the exit, pausing just beside Charlotte. He leaned in, his mouth hovering mere inches from her ear. The scent of cedar and bergamot washed over her, making her skin burn with the memory of his touch.

"Tomorrow at eight, Charlotte," he murmured, loud enough only for her to hear. "Don't be late."

With that, he pushed open the glass doors and strode out of the gallery, leaving the entire staff staring after him in awe.

The moment the doors clicked shut, Charlotte’s knees gave out. She slumped onto one of the velvet viewing benches, burying her face in her hands.

Nancy immediately locked the VIP room doors and rushed over to her. "Okay, first of all, that man is terrifyingly hot. Second of all, what the hell is going on? I got a G****e alert about Stewart Holdings acquiring the gallery and nearly drove my car into a river."

Charlotte dragged her hands down her face. "Nancy... my life is completely over."

"Don't be dramatic. It's just a buyout. We’ll find a loophole," Nancy said, sitting next to her and putting an arm around her shoulders. "Besides, we have bigger fish to fry. I’ve been trying to call Andrew all morning about the caterers, and his phone is off. Have you spoken to him?"

At the sound of Andrew’s name, a choked, bitter laugh escaped Charlotte's lips. "The wedding is off."

Nancy froze. "What?"

"I went to his apartment last night to surprise him," Charlotte said, her voice dropping to a hollow whisper. "He wasn't alone. I caught him in bed with another woman."

Nancy's jaw dropped, and she nearly spilled her iced coffee.

"That bastard," she muttered, staring at Charlotte in disbelief. "I'm going to make sure he regrets this. Forget the wedding—I'll destroy him. His career, his reputation, everything.”Who was she?”

Charlotte looked up, her eyes bright with unshed tears of rage. "It was Sienna."

"Sienna?" Nancy practically shrieked, jumping to her feet. "Your sister?! Are you kidding me? Oh, I am going to set that girl's entire wardrobe on fire. I will leak this to every gossip column in the state!"

"I walked out," Charlotte continued, staring blankly at the marble floor. "I left my ring. I went to a bar downtown. I had too much whiskey, Nancy, and I... I picked up a stranger."

Nancy stopped pacing. She looked at Charlotte, her anger temporarily replaced by sheer shock. Charlotte, the most responsible, composed woman she knew, had a one-night stand?

"Okay," Nancy said slowly, sitting back down. "Okay, honestly? Good for you. Andrew is a monster. You deserved a rebound night to blow off steam. Who was the guy? Was he cute at least?"

Charlotte slowly turned her head to look at her best friend.

"Nancy," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The stranger... was Edward Stewart."

Nancy stared at her. Complete silence descended on the room.

"Shut up," Nancy breathed.

"I woke up in his penthouse this morning and ran away," Charlotte confessed, the reality of the situation completely crushing her. "And two hours later, he bought my family's gallery to trap me."

Nancy stared at the locked glass doors, then back at Charlotte. A slow, dangerous smile crept onto the PR fixer's face.

"Charlotte," Nancy said, her voice filled with awe. "You didn't just blow up your life. You accidentally started a war.”