Chapter 2: Dominic

THERE WAS AN OLD ADAGE THAT BAD THINGS CAME IN threes, and if I weren't

so scornful of superstitions, I might've believed it after this shit show of a

day.

First, a ridiculous tech malfunction reset our email and calendar systems

that morning, and we'd spent hours getting everything back in order.

Then, one of my top traders quit because he was "burned out" and

"found his true calling" as a fucking yoga teacher, of all things.

Now, an hour before U.S. markets closed, news leaked that a company

we had a large position in was being investigated by the Securities and

Exchange Commission. Stocks were in free fall, which meant the value of

our position was declining by the minute, and my plans to leave early had

disintegrated faster than tissue paper in a washing machine. As the CEO of

a major financial conglomerate, I didn't have the luxury of delegating crisis

management.

"Talk to me." Brisk strides took me from my office to the emergency

staff meeting three doors down in thirty seconds. My muscles coiled so

tight, it was a miracle they didn't cramp. I'd lost millions in minutes, and I

didn't have time to beat around the bush.

"Rumor has it the SEC is going hard on this one." Caroline, mychief of

staff, matched my pace with ease. "The new chairman wants to make asplashy first impression. What better way to do that than to go head-to-head

with one of the biggest banks in the country?"

For fuck's sake. It was always the newbies that crashed their way

through their first year like a bull in a china shop. I had a good relationship

with the old chairman, but the new one was a goddamn thorn in my side,

and he'd only been there for three months.

I checked my watch as I pushed open the door to the executive

conference room. A quarter pastthree. I was supposed to fly out to DC with

Alessandra at six. If I kept the meeting short and drove straight to the

airport instead of stopping at home first like I'd originally planned, I could

still make it.

Dammit.Why did the chairman have to upend things on my wedding

anniversary, of all days?

I took my seat at the head of the table and reached for my lighter. It was

instinct at this point; I didn't even have to think about it. "Give me the

numbers."

Thoughts of DC and upcoming flights melted away as I flicked the

lighter on and off while my team debated the pros and cons of dumping our

position in the bank versus weathering the storm. There was no room for

personal concerns in times of emergencies, and the solid, comforting weight

of silver focused my thoughts on the task at hand instead of the insidious

whispers crowding my brain.

They were always there, filling my head with doubts like how I was one

bad decision away from losing everything. How I was and always would be

the butt of every joke, the foster kid whose own biological mother

abandoned him and who flunked sixth grade twice.

The "problem student," my teachers lamented.

The "idiot," my classmates jeered.

The "slacker," my guidance counselor sighed.

The voices were loudest in times of crisis. I reigned over a multi-billion

dollar empire, but I walked through the halls every day with the prospect of

a crash hanging over me.

On. Off. On. Off.The increased speed of my flicks matched my

escalating heartbeats.

"Sir." Caroline's voice cut through the buzzing in my ears. "What's your

verdict?"

I blinked away the unwanted memories lurking at the corners of my

consciousness. The room came back into focus, revealing my team's

anxious, expectant expressions.

Someone had pulled up a presentation sometime in the past minute,

even though I'd repeatedly said I hated slide decks. The right side was filled

with a comforting mix of chartsand numbers, but the left contained several

lengthy bullet points.

The sentences swam before me. They didn't look right; I was sure my

brain had added some words while erasing others. The back of my neck

heated while myheartbeats thundered with such fury, it felt like they were

trying topunch through my chest and knock the words off the screen in one

fell swoop.

"What did I say about presentation format?" I could barely hear myself

over thenoise. It grew louder every second, and only my painful grip on the

lighter prevented me from unraveling. "No. Bullet points."

I bit out the words, and the room fell deathly silent.

"I-I'm sorry, sir." The analyst presenting the slides paled to the point of

translucence. "My assistant "

"I don't give a damn about your assistant." I was being an asshole, but I

didn't have time to feel bad about it. Not when my stomach wasturning and

a migraine was already crawling its way behind my temple.

On. Off. On. Off.

I turned my headand focused on the charts instead. The switch in focus,

combined with the clicks of the lighter, calmed me enough to think clearly

again.

SEC. Tumbling stocks. What to do with our position.

I couldn't fully shake the sense that one day, I would fuck up so royally

that I'd destroy everything I had, but that day wouldn't be today.

I knew what to do, and as I laid out my strategy for holding on to our

position, I pushed every other voice out of my headincluding the one

telling me that I was forgetting something damn important.