Name Your Price

Two security guards in dark grey suits moved in immediately from the edge of the VIP section. The taller one laid a heavy hand on Evelyn’s upper arm, his grip firm enough to bruise through her winter coat.

"Ma'am, please step this way without making a scene."

"Don't touch me," Evelyn said, her voice dropping into a razor-thin, dangerous register.

She wrenched her arm back with all the force she had left. A waiter stepped aside quickly, a tray of champagne glasses rattling softly in his hands as a few nearby guests turned to stare.

Julian didn't wait to watch. He turned his back entirely, setting his empty scotch glass on a passing silver tray, and walked with long, deliberate strides toward the heavy mahogany doors leading to the private lounge corridor.

Evelyn didn't stop to think. She ducked under the second guard’s reaching arm, her shoulder slamming hard into the edge of a mahogany pillar, and sprinted down the hallway after him.

"Hey! Stop her!"

The thick plush carpet in the private corridor muffled the sound of her footsteps. Julian was already at the heavy wooden door at the far end of the hall, his hand resting on the polished brass handle.

Evelyn threw her weight forward, slipping through the gap into the room just a fraction of a second before the heavy door slammed shut behind them.

The VIP lounge was dimly lit, smelling of dark leather, hand-rubbed walnut, and expensive cigars. Julian turned around slowly, his expression shifting from mild annoyance to a quiet, lethal dangerousness.

Before he could call security, Evelyn threw her back flat against the heavy door, using her body weight to keep the latch locked from the inside. Outside, heavy footsteps pounded against the carpet, followed by a sharp, urgent knock.

"Mr. Vance? Do you need assistance in there?"

Julian looked at Evelyn. His eyes tracked the way her chest heaved as she fought for air, her dark eyes burning with unbroken focus.

"Stand outside," Julian ordered toward the door. "Don't let anyone else down this hall."

"Understood, sir."

Silence settled over the room once more. On the far wall, a modern brass clock ticked away with ruthless precision. 2:14 AM.

"I know what you think of me, Julian," Evelyn said, her voice dry and steady as she pulled the silver encrypted drive back out of her coat. "You think I'm a ghost showing up out of nowhere. But I didn't come here to ask for a favor."

"I don't deal in favors, Evelyn," Julian said, his tone dry and conversational as he leaned back against the edge of a large glass executive desk. "You're simply an unpaid invoice from five years ago."

The casual indifference in his voice was designed to cut, but Evelyn didn't flinch. She stepped away from the door, placing the small metallic drive in the center of the glass desk between them.

"Lily's acute liver failure reached a critical threshold six days ago," Evelyn stated, her voice dropping into a precise, professional register. "The Sankt Gallen clinical protocol in Switzerland approved her for the Vancor-9 filtration trial, but Harrison’s proxy board locked the regional authorization stamp until a five-hundred-thousand-dollar corporate sponsor guarantees the ledger."

Julian didn't glance down at the drive. "And you walk into my private lounge expecting Vance Enterprises to foot her medical bill?"

"I walk in here expecting a fair trade," Evelyn countered, her eyes fixing directly on his. "That drive contains the complete encrypted port clearance manifest for the Rotterdam dock corridors. My father locked those shipping rights before his firm dissolved. Your board has been trying to acquire those transit corridors for eighteen months to secure your European expansion."

Julian raised an eyebrow slightly, his dark eyes narrowing as he evaluated her posture. "You held onto the Rotterdam clearance files for five years?"

"I held onto them because I knew what they were worth," she replied smoothly, stepping half an inch closer to the desk. "Vance Enterprises gets full, exclusive commercial rights to the Rotterdam shipping corridors, giving you complete trade exemption through Q4. In exchange, you wire the five-hundred-thousand-dollar deposit to the Sankt Gallen portal before five in the morning and guarantee Lily's sponsorship."

Julian let out a short, quiet breath through his nose—entirely devoid of warmth.

"You vanished in the middle of the night five years ago," Julian said, his voice dropping to a low, smooth purr that made the small hairs on her neck stand up. "You left a silver ring on the granite counter and blocked my phone number before my car cleared the parking garage. You didn't leave a note. And now you show up with a multi-million-dollar trade manifest like a seasoned corporate blackmailer."

"I didn't leave because I wanted to, Julian," she said softly, the truth burning in her throat. But she kept her chin up. Mentioning his uncle Harrison's threats right now would sound like a weak excuse to a man who lived in a world of cold hard facts. "I left because it was the only choice I had to keep your family's board from tearing your executive proxy apart before your father's estate cleared."

Julian’s jaw tightened, a microscopic muscle tic appearing near his ear. For a fraction of a second, his dark eyes flared with something raw—something dark and buried deep beneath five years of cultivated ice.

He closed the remaining distance between them in a single, fluid stride.

Before Evelyn could draw a breath, Julian reached out. His long, calloused fingers closed firmly around her chin, tilting her face up toward the harsh light of the desk lamp above them. His grip was precise, unyielding, holding her trapped under his gaze.

"I don't make trade deals with people who walked out on me, Evelyn," Julian whispered, his face inches from hers, his dark eyes burning with absolute authority. "If you want my five hundred thousand dollars and my corporate sponsorship for your sister, the Rotterdam manifest isn't enough."

Evelyn didn't pull away from his touch. "Then name your price."

Julian’s thumb brushed against her jawline, his grip tightening just enough to command her total attention.

"I don't just want the Rotterdam manifest," Julian said coldly. "I want you.”