chapter 13

**Sam's POV**

"Why are you calling me through my personal line, Dina?" I asked, irritated, as I answered the phone.

"Sir, are you still at the office?" she asked tentatively, ignoring my tone.

"Yes, I'm busy." The lie slipped out smoothly. I stared at my computer screen, which had gone dark from inactivity two hours ago. Busy? Hardly. My thoughts had been scattered for days now, orbiting around someone I refused to mention.

It felt as though I'd gone through a breakup, even though there had never been a relationship. Worse yet, it had been my choice to sever ties—if you could even call it that. Now, my mind was filled with nothing but guilt and relentless thoughts of her.

Dina's insistence on updating me about Fiona's activities didn't help. It was like she had an absurd sixth sense for what I was avoiding.

Before, I dreaded sleep because of the nightmares. Now, sleep was a relief compared to the waking hours where Fiona haunted my every thought. It was ironic—I'd always hated feeling shackled by anything or anyone, but here I was, imprisoned by my own decision.

"Sir, did you hear me?" Dina's voice pulled me back into reality.

"What?"

"I was telling you why I called," she repeated patiently.

"Which is?"

"You have an event tonight. Remember?"

"I know. It's at eight, right?" I said, glancing at the clock on my desk, hoping I'd have a bit more time to delay.

"Yes... and it's currently 8:46 p.m., sir," Dina replied, the smirk in her voice impossible to miss.

I glanced at my watch. Damn it.

"Okay, I guess I'll head home and change into a tux." I was buying time, searching for any excuse to avoid showing up.

"No need for that, sir. I already took the liberty of having one delivered. It's on the suit rack in your office, right before I clocked out," she informed me sweetly.

"Well, aren't you efficient today," I muttered, inwardly cursing her foresight.

"You know I am, sir." Her laughter trailed off as I ended the call.

I rolled my eyes—something I rarely did—and pulled on the tuxedo, moving with deliberate slowness. Despite my reluctance, I knew I had to go. The only reason I agreed to attend was because of a business partner. Not one of my partners, but Bruckner's. One of his most significant ones at that.

My plan to take down Bruckner was simple. I needed to ingratiate myself with his key partners, earning their trust, so when things started to go south for him—and they would—those partners would come running to me for help.

Out of thirteen of his biggest partners, I had already secured ten. It wasn't difficult. Bruckner made things easier than expected; the man practically handed over ammunition.

I smiled coldly as I drove to the event, knowing I was close to my goal. But the satisfaction I thought I'd feel? Nonexistent.

The event was an extravagant beachside party, complete with flickering flame lamps, casting a warm, almost romantic glow. It was picturesque, but the contradiction of formal attire at a beach was not lost on me. Who throws a black-tie beach party and requests no shoes?

My only mission tonight was to make an appearance, charm the host, and leave as quickly as possible. As soon as I stepped out of the car, Anthony Wright, the host and Bruckner's key ally, spotted me and hurried over, grinning.

"Samuel! You made it!" he greeted me enthusiastically, shaking my hand.

"Mr. Wright." I forced a smile, concealing the growing impatience gnawing at me. I mentally calculated how long I had to endure this before making a discreet exit.

"Oh, you promised to call me Anthony," he reminded me with that polished British accent.

"I remember. My apologies for being late, Anthony. I was caught in a meeting," I lied smoothly, injecting false remorse into my voice.

"All's forgiven. I know how running an empire can be, especially one like yours," he said, holding onto my hand for a beat too long.

"Come, there are some people I'd like you to meet." He pulled me along like a child, steering me through the sea of well-dressed guests.

Introductions blurred together. After about twenty meaningless handshakes, I was close to losing my composure. I managed to extricate myself from his grip at some point but continued to follow, pretending to be engaged.

"I appreciate the introductions, but I think I'll go grab a drink now," I said, needing a break from his relentless networking.

"Oh, let's head to the bar then!" Anthony offered, still not taking the hint, and began leading the way again. His energy was grating, but I kept my expression neutral.

As we approached the bar, he pointed ahead. "Ah, there's my son and his girlfriend," he said, gesturing toward a young man and woman standing with their backs to us. They were deep in conversation, the young man's hand casually resting on her shoulder as they laughed together.

"That's Ethan and his lovely girlfriend, Fiona," he added.

Fiona.

My heart thudded as they turned around, still smiling—until Fiona's gaze locked with mine. Her smile faltered. Ethan, however, continued grinning, pulling Fiona closer.

I should have known. Of course, Ethan Wright's girlfriend was *that* Fiona.

Anthony introduced us, oblivious to the tension crackling in the air. "Samuel, this is my son, Ethan Wright, and his girlfriend, Fiona Bruckner."

The silence that followed was suffocating. Fiona glanced away, her face expressionless, while Ethan extended his hand to me, his smile irritatingly smug.

"Mr. Fox," Ethan said smoothly. "Nice to finally meet you." His handshake was firm, almost too confident for my liking.

"Likewise," I replied curtly, barely acknowledging him as my eyes stayed on Fiona.

She finally found her voice, offering a cheerful, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Fox," as if we hadn't met before. Her hands remained stubbornly at her sides.

"Fiona," I said, my voice low, a warning laced beneath my words. "It's nice to *officially* meet you and your... boyfriend." I could barely spit out the last word.

Her chin lifted defiantly, her eyes blazing with some unspoken challenge.

"Yes," Ethan interjected. "We've been together two weeks now." He sounded far too pleased with himself.

"Isn't that... enlightening," I muttered through gritted teeth. My gaze shifted back to Fiona, who was now glaring at me.

Sensing the thick tension, Anthony tried to salvage the moment. "Why don't I introduce you to one of my Chinese business partners?" he suggested, attempting to drag me away.

"Go on ahead. I'll join you shortly," I said, not even attempting to mask my irritation.

Once Anthony was gone, I turned to Ethan with a forced smile. "Do you mind if I borrow your girlfriend for a moment?"

Both Fiona and Ethan stiffened. "Why?" they asked in unison.

"Important business," I clipped out.

"It's a party," Ethan countered, shrugging nonchalantly. "Surely you can schedule a meeting for later?"

Fiona mumbled under her breath, "Now you want to talk?"

"This can't wait." My patience was wearing thin.

Ethan sighed, a dramatic pause hanging in the air before he let go of Fiona's shoulders and strolled away, rejoining a nearby group. I watched him confidently slide into the conversation, an impressive display of youthful ease.

Finally, I turned back to Fiona. Her arms were crossed, her gaze simmering with frustration. "What do you want, Sam?"

**You.** The thought struck me like lightning, but I buried it before it could reach my lips.

"We're not talking here," I said firmly.

"Then where? Because I'm *this* close to giving you a piece of my mind." Her eyes sparked with defiance, though she looked more like an angry kitten than a real threat.

"Come with me," I commanded, grabbing her hand without waiting for her permission.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions, as her hand slipped into mine, I felt something click into place. For the first time in weeks, the world made sense.