Chapter 8 No.8

The next morning, Aisha was still asleep in the small bedroom of her rented apartment.

Dominic slid out of the sofa bed in the living room. He dressed quickly, not in the clothes Aisha had bought him, but in a bespoke Italian suit he had stashed in a gym bag.

He slipped out the door.

A black Maybach was waiting around the corner.

Chester opened the door. "Good morning, sir. You look... rested."

"I slept on a mattress with a spring poking into my kidney," Dominic said, sliding into the leather seat. "It was fantastic."

Chester handed him a tablet. "The Bartlett file."

Dominic scanned it as the car purred toward the Financial District.

"Barry Bartlett is leveraging the company to Silas Thorne," Dominic noted. "Thorne is a vulture. He'll strip the assets and fire the employees."

"Yes, sir. And Thorne is demanding Aisha as part of the deal. He wants the family name to legitimize his takeover."

Dominic's eyes went cold. The temperature in the car seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Kill the deal," Dominic said.

Chester blinked. "Sir?"

"Fields Global will acquire Bartlett Enterprises. Hostile takeover. Use the shell companies so they don't trace it back to me."

"But sir, Bartlett Enterprises is a sinking ship. It's a bad investment."

"I don't care about the profit," Dominic said, looking out the window at the passing skyline. "I care about the captain."

He arrived at Fields Tower. He walked through the lobby, and the air changed. Employees straightened their ties. Conversations stopped.

He took the private elevator to the 50th floor.

The boardroom was full. Men in five-thousand-dollar suits sat waiting.

Dominic walked in. He didn't apologize for being late. He sat at the head of the table.

"The Thorne merger is dead," he announced. "We're buying Bartlett."

A murmur of protest.

"Dominic," one of the older board members said. "This is personal. We know about the girl."

Dominic turned his gaze on the man. "If you know about the girl, then you know I don't lose. Do it."

His phone buzzed. A text from Aisha.

Where are you? We need to start lessons. I bought flashcards.

Dominic smiled. A genuine, soft smile that terrified the board members more than his anger.

On my way, he typed. Just running an errand.

He stood up. "Meeting adjourned. I have to go learn how to use a salad fork."

He left the room, leaving twelve of the most powerful men in New York completely bewildered.