Page 1 of Vance

“Torch the fucking building. That’ll drive them out.”

The statement doesn’t cause me to glance up from the acquisition reports spread across the glass-topped conference table in the boardroom. Comments like that are just another Tuesday at The Ashford Group. And my younger brother’s suggestion would make our father proud.

“I’m fucking serious, Vance.” Kaden leans back in the leather chair he’s sitting in, his smile sharp as a blade. “These old bastards on the South Side complex have had three months to vacate. We’ve offered them triple the market value. Even given them fucking relocation options. At this point, they’re just fucking up the whole project.”

“A few of them are near the end of their lease. We can triple their rent, make it impossible to stay,” Xander adds quietly from his corner seat. “But the eviction process will take six months, minimum. I don’t know if the development timeline can absorb that kind of delay.”

Kaden lets out a heavy sigh, cracking his knuckles one by one. “Like I said, we need to send a message they can’t ignore. A broken bone or two and a small fire in the basement. I’m not saying we’ve got to off anyone, just scare them a little and get the insurance company to declare the building uninhabitable. Give them a little incentive to get the fuck out.”

I flip to the next page of my report, studying the profit projections. This property in the South Side represents a two-hundred-million-dollar redevelopment opportunity—luxury condos and high-end retail—a fortress of gentrification that will practically print money for the next decade. The only obstacle is a decrepit prewar apartment building housing eleven families who refuse to take our buyout.

Eleven obstacles. That’s all they are. Nothing more than a few numbers on a spreadsheet.

“Do it,” I grumble.

“Absolutely not.” The soft, feminine opposition cuts through the room, finally causing me to look up. Sophia Bennett sits at the far end of the table, her spine straight, but her soft blue eyes guarded. She’s wearing a navy wool blazer over a simple white silk blouse, the fabric falling in clean lines that suggest good taste rather than designer purchases. While likely off-the-rack, the simple cut accentuates her modest curves. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a tight knot at the nape of her neck, exposing the elegant column of her throat. She looks like the president of the ethics committee, making her the last person who needed to walk into this meeting.

Nobody contradicts me in this room. Fuck, nobody contradicts me anywhere… Except Ms. Bennett. From the moment she joined this company, she hasn’t been afraid to push my buttons, question my authority, and crawl so far under my fucking skin that I have never quite managed to dig her out. As much as it irritates the hell out of me, part of me enjoys her defiance.

Not bothering to hide my displeasure over her disrespect, I snarl, “I beg your fucking pardon?”

“You heard me, Mr. Ashford,” she sasses with barely the slightest flinch. The steel backbone wrapped in a pretty little package is exactly why Roman hired Sophia Bennett a few years ago. Dazzle the opposition with striking blue eyes and a perky set of tits while she dismantles them in negotiations. “You cannot break kneecaps or torch buildings. You most definitely cannot terrorize elderly tenants and single mothers because they refuse to take your lowball offers.”

“Lowball?” Kaden barks on a harsh laugh. “We offered them three times what that shithole is worth, Bennett. They’re being greedy.”

“They’re being greedy?” she snaps, turning her ire on him. “That building is their home, and it has been for decades. Mrs. Henderson on the fourth floor raised four children there. Mr. Chen has operated his tailor shop in the ground-floor unit for thirty years. They aren’t just numbers, Kaden. They’re people.”

“Yeah,” I exhale. “People who are in the fucking way.”

Sophia turns her attention to me, staring back at me in challenge. How little she fears me, or my family, has proven to repeatedly be a complete and utter pain in my ass. “Then find another way.” She staccatos each word for effect. “You’re so brilliant, Vance. So unstoppable. Figure a way to move eleven units without committing felonies that will put us all in prison.”

Never one to be timid about using my height and build to my advantage, I push away from the table and rise to my feet slowly. I take my time rounding it as I button my jacket until I’m towering over Sophia. Even though she has to tilt her head up to maintain eye contact, she refuses to back down.

“Are you lecturing me on business strategy, Ms. Bennett?” I whisper darkly. “Or have you forgotten who signs your paychecks?”

“Last time I checked, your father still signs my paycheck.” Her voice remains steady despite our proximity, so close that I can smell the sweet lavender of her perfume. “I also haven’t forgotten that The Ashford Group has a reputation for”—she pauses to air-quote—“ruthless efficiency. Stupid shit like arson and assault—those charges stick, Vance. To you. Kaden. The whole company. One RICO investigation and this two-hundred-million-dollar project becomes a government seizure that practically cripples The Ashford Group.”

She’s right. She always is, and that’s what’s so fucking aggravating about her.

“So, what’s your solution?” I step closer, leaving us barely a few inches apart. “Should we send cookies? Perhaps you’d like to organize a sensitivity workshop for the tenants we’re displacing?”

“We should offer them fair market value, relocation assistance, and right of first refusal on a handful of rent-controlled units when construction is complete,” she says, not taking my bait and holding fast to her professionalism. “It’s a wild concept, but I propose we treat them like human beings, with dignity and rights, not like garbage to be bulldozed out of your way.”

“How fucking touching,” Kaden sneers. “Maybe we should adopt them all, too.”

Not breaking eye contact with Sophia, I snip, “Shut up, Kaden.” He falls silent immediately as I study Sophia’s unwavering face. Her lips are set in a stubborn line, accentuating her high cheekbones and the intelligence burning behind those ocean-blue eyes. She’s Roman’s protégé, a thirty-three-year-old executive slated to be the youngest VP in company history. Her real job is to be just enough of a voice of reason to keep our asses out of prison. Though she could do it without looking at me like I’m something she scraped off her shoe.

“You’re too emotional,” I insist, my voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. “This isn’t a charity, Sophia. It’s a corporation. To survive, we don’t do mercy. We do profit.”

“Then do smart profit,” she shoots back, matching my hushed voice. “The negative PR from a violent eviction alone will cost us more than a generous relocation package. Let alone the legal fees. This is not the story we want on the front page of the Tribune while the city council revokes our permits. Be ruthless, Vance. Be brutal.” She pauses briefly to flick her gaze to Kaden before continuing, “But don’t be stupid.”

Kaden shoots to his feet, his chair screeching against the marble floor. “You little bitch⁠—”

“Sit down,” I command. Kaden’s feet root in place, but his dark eyes and flaring nostrils are a promise of violence later.

Returning my attention to Sophia, my gaze is immediately drawn to the rapid rise and fall of her chest beneath her blazer. The color is high in her cheeks, and her pupils nearly eclipse her irises. While it isn’t a look I see on her often, the beautiful flush of fear suits her. Taking in the magnificence of her current expression, I tilt my head and ask, “You think I’m stupid?”

“No.” Her throat bobs on a swallow as she tries to regain her composure. “I think you’re reckless. I think you’re so used to getting what you want by snapping your fingers that you don’t know how to work for it.”