Page 109 of Obey

“Absolute prick.”

Nate doesn’t answer. He looks at Elias and gives the smallest dip of his chin. That’s it. Elias already has his phone out.

I’m beginning to understand that Nate doesn’t have to tell Elias what to do. He decides what needs to happen, and Elias somehow knows how to make it happen before the rest of us have caught up.

Outside, the afternoon sun hits all at once. I blink into it: Nate’s shoulders, Jace’s hand finding my waist, Elias’s shadow falling across all three of us like a second opinion.

“Alright,” Jace says once we’re folded back into the car. “Where did you learn to analyze and tear down a man like that, Sugar?”

“Oh, I’ve had a lot of practice,” I say. “My father is a judge. I spent eighteen years at dinner parties learning to hold my own in conversations men never intended for me to join.”

Jace makes a sound like he’s just found something he wants to keep. “Remind me never to get in a contract negotiation with you.”

“You’d lose.”

His answering look is all challenge, no retreat.

Nate’s hand closes over mine, once. “You handled yourself perfectly.”

“Next time,” Elias says, “if he makes you uncomfortable, you tell us.”

“Okay,” I say, and mean it. Because something tells me that Adrian Cross isn’t the kind of man who takes a no and files it away. He’s the kind who files it under later.

Sure, he has polished words and history with Nathaniel I don’t understand yet. But he came at me through business, and that is a language I speak fluently.

As we pull away, I glance back at the restaurant, remembering how easily Adrian turned on the charm and how quickly it disappeared when I challenged him. I doubt I've seen the last of him.

Good.

I want to see his best.

twenty-seven

Leverage

The file on my desk is thick, but not impressive enough to change my opinion.

Preston Lane. Thirty-five.

Trust fund baby from Shreveport. Legacy admission to LSU, where he majored in business and coasted on his father’s name.

Graduated without distinction.

Slid into his father's firm, Lane Capital & Development, where a family name and a convenient promotion eventually landed him the title of Vice President of Acquisitions & Strategy.

The acquisitions list confirms it: a string of buyouts where Preston Lane arrived just in time to take the credit. He specializes in our market, a vulture circling the ecosystems we build.

My fingers drum on the desk as my eyes narrow on the photograph at the top. Blond hair, blue-eyed pretty boy. Tailored suit, polished smile, teeth just a shade too white. On paper, he’s everything: pedigree, position, a portfolio of acquisitions.

In reality? A leech dressed as a leader.

Pathetic.

Every line of ink confirms what my gut already knew; there’s nothing special here. Just legacy and handouts dressed up as merit.

Don't get me wrong. I have nothing against inherited money.

Mine opened doors most people never get close enough to knock on.