All Chapters of Apex of Love: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The Croft Industries boardroom stinks of ozone and burnt coffee. We occupy one side of the polished table, a wall of legal documents and forensic reports stacked between us and the twelve members who tried to destroy Julian's empire.I'm stationed in the corner, a silent witness, as Julian pushes to his feet. He's wrapped in charcoal, his tie yanked tight, his January-gray eyes raking the room like a predator measuring prey. But his voice, when he speaks, is level. Controlled. The voice of a man who has already won."Ladies and gentlemen," he says, "I'll keep this short. You've seen the evidence. You've read the reports. Gerald Marks confessed to conspiracy, witness tampering, and attempted kidnapping. The investigation you fired at me was constructed on fabricated evidence, spoon-fed to you by a man who's been planning to bury me for months."Harold Sterling, the lead board member, squirms in his chair. "Mr. Croft, we've acknowledged the errors in our process. We're prepared to ter

The diner on Fort Street hums with the early afternoon lull. Betty sloshes coffee into my mug and lifts an eyebrow at the empty seat across from me.He's running late," I say. "Board meeting.""Those board meetings. They ever end?""Not if he can help it."She snorts and moves on. The coffee scalds my tongue. Outside, a salt truck grinds down Fort Street, its orange lights sweeping the window in slow, deliberate arcs. The old Sanders bakery sign glows faintly in the distance.Dani drops into the booth across from me, her scarf dripping melted snow, her cheeks slapped red by the wind. "Sorry I'm late. Parking in this city is a nightmare.""You could have taken the QLine.""I could have done a lot of things." She grabs my mug and takes a long gulp. "You look wrecked.""I feel wrecked. The press conference. The DeVries case. Yvonne has me buried in the Sterling audits.""That's not what I mean." Dani thunks the mug down and drills her eyes into me. "You've got that look. The one you had

Sleep refuses to arrive.Julian sprawls beside me, his breathing deep and even, his hand heavy on my hip. The fairy lights still tremble on the terrace beyond the glass, tiny white bulbs shivering in the January wind. The old train station squats in the distance, its clock still dead at 4:17.Tomorrow, we meet Gabriel DeVries. Tomorrow, Julian learns what his uncle has been clutching for thirty-six years.I slip from the sheets, careful not to stir him. The marble floor bites my bare feet. I wrap myself in his robe, the black silk one steeped in his scent, and drift to the living room window. The Penobscot Building pumps its steady red beat. The Spirit of Detroit statue hurls its bronze arms toward the frozen sky. A salt truck grinds down Woodward, its orange lights sweeping the glass in slow, deliberate arcs."What are you doing awake?"I spin. Julian fills the bedroom doorway, barefoot and rumpled, his hair a disaster. He looks younger like this. Less the apex predator and more the

The hours between dawn and noon refuse to move.Julian showers and dresses without a word, pulling on a dark sweater and jeans. No armor today. No billionaire's uniform. He's meeting his uncle, and he wants to arrive as a man, not a monument. I watch from the bed, still wrapped in his robe, the photograph of Elena DeVries glowing on the nightstand."You don't need the suit," I say. "But a coat might help. It's January."His mouth jerks. The almost-smile. "I'll grab a coat.""Good. You're worthless to me frozen."He crosses to the bed and drops beside me, the mattress dipping under his weight. "What do I articulate to him? What do you say to a man who gripped your mother's hand while she bled out?""You say thank you. You say you're sorry he's been hauling this alone. You say you're braced to absorb whatever he has to deliver.""And if I'm not ready ?""You've been ready since you were twelve years old, barefoot in the snow. You just didn't know it."He fastens his eyes on me. They're

The diner on Fort Street yawns nearly empty when I shove through the door.Julian already occupies the corner booth, his spine to the wall. He has been wearing a dark sweater since this morning, his coat slung over the seat beside him. Two mugs of coffee steam on the formica table. A single slice of cherry pie rests untouched between them."You're early," I say, sliding into the booth across from him."You're late.""I'm precisely on schedule. You're the one who materialized twenty minutes before necessary."His mouth jerks. He almost smile. "I wanted to claim the booth.""The booth never fills. This diner is always empty.""Tonight it might have been different."I coil my fingers around the warm mug. "You're nervous.""I'm not nervous.""You've organized the sugar packets into a flawless grid."He glares at the sugar caddy, then back at me. "That's fundamental tidiness.""That's nerves." I stretch across the table and seize his hand. "Speak to me."He glares at our tangled fingers. T