Chapter 7 - The Reckoning
The dining room descended into absolute chaos, quickly subdued by the absolute, lethal authority of Seth Basil.
"Sit down, Angelo," Seth commanded softly.
Angelo didn't sit. He looked wildly around the room, realizing too late that the trap had been sprung with mathematical perfection. His eyes landed on Fiona, and the mask of the polished, smooth-talking adviser melted away, revealing a cornered, vicious animal.
"You!" Angelo snarled, lunging forward despite the guns pointed at him. "You ruined everything! You were supposed to be a decorative prop, a fat embarrassment he parked in the West Wing!"
Before Angelo's fingers could come within three feet of Fiona, Seth was out of his chair.
The movement was blindingly fast. In a single fluid motion, Seth crossed the length of the table, grabbed Angelo by the lapels of his expensive Italian suit, and slammed him down against the mahogany surface with a deafening crash of silver and crystal.
The entire table shook.
Seth leaned over him, his face inches from Angelo’s terrified eyes, his voice dropping into a register so cold and quiet it made the guards shudder.
"You tried to steal my territory, you tried to frame my oldest accountant, and worst of all..." Seth paused, his grip tightening until Angelo choked for air. "...you insulted my wife in my house."
Angelo gasped, his hands clawing at Seth’s wrists. "Seth... please... forty years of loyalty—"
"Loyalty ended the moment you thought you were smarter than me," Seth growled. He shoved Angelo back into the grip of the two security guards. "Take him down to the basement vault. Lock him in the dark until I decide whether to hand him over to the federal prosecutors or bury him in the Indiana swamps."
"Yes, Boss," Victor muttered, hauling the sobbing, thrashing adviser out of the room by his collar.
The heavy oak doors slammed shut behind them, sealing the silence.
Grant Mercer sat frozen at the table, staring at Seth with wide, shell-shocked eyes. "Boss... I... I had no idea."
"Go home, Grant," Seth said, his breathing steady as he adjusted his cuffs. "Take a week off. Your books are cleared, and your salary is doubled. I’ll see you Monday."
Grant nodded rapidly, grabbing his coat and practically fleeing the dining room.
Within thirty seconds, the room was completely empty except for Seth, Fiona, and a terrified Helen Gable, who was currently trying to blend into the wallpaper near the sideboard.
Seth turned slowly, walking back toward the foot of the table where Fiona sat calmly sipping her water.
He stopped beside her chair, looking down at her with an expression that had entirely changed. The cold, distant stranger of St. Augustine’s Cathedral was gone. In his place stood a man who finally recognized the formidable power sitting right beside him.
May you like
"Well," Seth said quietly, a faint, appreciative smile touching the corners of his mouth. "It appears I owe you an apology."
"You owe me a great deal more than an apology, Seth," Fiona replied smoothly, setting her glass down and meeting his gaze without a single hint of hesitation. "You owe me a partnership."
