RISE OF THE SECRET HEIR
"Five p.m. is only hours away, Ethan! Ninety million dollars in short-term debt matures, and Julian owns every single note!"
Ethan stood near the edge of the living room, his jacket discarded over the back of a leather sofa, his dark tie loosened at his collar. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms, veins bulging as his fists tightly clenched and unclenched.
"We don't bow to terrorists, Chloe," Ethan said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated through the room. "And we certainly don't bow to Julian Sterling."