Between Two Brothers
Personal errands were listed as urgent—dry cleaning from a shop in Mayfair, a specific bottle of whiskey from a private cellar in Knightsbridge, and handwritten letters that needed perfect calligraphy replication.
“This is impossible,” I whispered.
Dare’s smirk was razor-sharp. “For most people. But you always liked to prove people wrong, didn’t you? Or was that just another lie?”
I looked up, anger cutting through the humiliation. “This isn’t a job, Dare. It’s sabotage. You want me to fail so you can watch me crawl out of here.”
He rose slowly, rounding the desk like a predator. The closer he got, the harder it became to breathe. He stopped inches away, towering over me, close enough that I
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