Page 152 of The Rival's Obsession
The man frowns faintly but nods and steps aside.
It’s fine. They’ll understand soon enough.
We’re almost at the door when Corrine comes around the corner like a storm in Louboutin heels—face flushed, breath uneven, phone still clutched in one hand.
“Excuse me,” she says, voice clipped. “What exactly is going on here? Why didn’t I receive a memo about the room change?”
Dante’s already there, holding the door open for Eve, who breezes in like she belongs—offering warm greetings to a few board members she’s gotten to know over the last two weeks. The way they respond tells me it was time well spent.
I turn to Corrine, keeping my tone neutral. “This is a meeting with the board. You do recall that meeting was today?”
Her face falters. Irritation flashes across her expression before she masks it with a tight, professional smile. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just walks into the room with her spine straight and her chin higher than necessary.
She takes a seat near the end of the table—far enough to make a point, close enough to remind me she’s not going anywhere.
I glance toward Frankie. “Please bring our other guests in as soon as they arrive.”
Frankie nods once and disappears down the hall.
Corrine’s voice cuts through the room, sharper now as she gestures to Eve. “Grant, this is completely inappropriate?—”
“It’s done,” I say, calm but final.
She stiffens, mouth parting in protest, but the boardroom is already shifting around us.
I step forward, and Dante follows behind me, still holding the door with one hand. Just before it closes, he touches the small of my back—subtle, grounding.
Inside, Corrine sits like a statue, her eyes fixed on me with a quiet fury that simmers just beneath the surface. Anger, hurt, disbelief—layered in her gaze like sediment no one’s disturbed in years.
Dante steps forward, smooth and controlled, and calls out, “Let’s take our seats, please.”
The chatter begins to fade.
One by one, the board members settle around the oblong mahogany table, their tailored suits and polite expressions concealing a thousand predictions and private bets about how this morning will play out. They’ve spent five years watching us circle each other like predators in a glass cage.
Now, they’re about to see what happens when we fight on the same side.
I step up beside Dante, nodding once to the room. “Thank you all for adjusting your schedules on such short notice.”
Eve moves silently through the space, a red flash of elegance and confidence, handing out the sleek black folders she and I finalized late last night.
“There will be no vote today,” I continue, leveling my voice. “No discussion on a CEO transition. Because Marchesi and Harrow isn’t changing hands?—”
“—it’s changing direction,” Dante finishes, his voice easy but firm.
I glance at him briefly. We didn’t rehearse that line together. But we didn’t need to.
“The last five years have seen their share of turbulence,” I say, turning back to the board. “Mistakes were made—on both sides of this partnership. But Dante and I spent the last forty-eight hours working through everything we let suffer. Every breakdown. Every blind spot. Every inch of ego. And what came out of that wasn’t just clarity—it was vision.”
Eve places the final folder and steps back beside Corrine, who did not get a one.
“Looks like I didn’t prepare enough.”
I absolutelydocatch the smile in Dante’s voice as he takes over.
“Modern meeting classic. Innovation rooted in legacy. Design that doesn’t just follow trends, but tests boundaries—environmentally, structurally, conceptually. This is the future of Marchesi and Harrow. And we’re done waiting for permission to pursue it.”
As if on cue, the double doors swing open behind me, and Damien Wolfe enters like a storm in a black suit.
