Chip sabotaged that car. I want the power to find out how. And I want the power to fire anyone who gets in my way. Victoria smiled. It was the first genuine smile he had seen all night.
Welcome to the company, Mr. Bennett. He signed. Pack your bags, Victoria said, turning back to Arthur. We're picking up the kid. The drive to Lucas's apartment was a journey between two worlds.
The Sterling limousine navigated the potholed streets of the lower district like a spaceship floating through a ruin. When they pulled up to the crumbling brick building where Lucas lived, Victoria's nose wrinkled slightly, though she tried to hide it. Stay here, Lucas ordered. I'll get her. He walked up the three flights of stairs, his tuxedo out of place against the peeling paint and smell of boiled cabbage.
He unlocked his door. Mrs. Gable was asleep in the armchair. Sophie was curled up on the couch, clutching a worn-out teddy bear. She was seven with curly brown hair and big eyes that had seen too much struggle for such a small face. Daddy.
She rubbed her eyes, waking up. You look like a prince. Lucas's heart broke and healed all at once. He scooped her up. Hey, peanut.
We're going on an adventure. Tonight? Yeah. Remember how I told you things were going to get better? Well, they just did.
Pack your bag. Just the important stuff. 10 minutes later, Lucas walked out holding Sophie's hand and a single duffel bag. That was their whole life. When they reached the limo, the driver opened the door.
Sophie stopped, her eyes wide. Is that a spaceship? She whispered. Victoria was waiting inside. She had taken off her blazer, revealing her bare shoulders.
She looked intimidatingly beautiful. But when she saw Sophie, something shifted in her demeanor. She stiffened. Victoria Sterling dealt with sharks, billionaires, and engineers. She did not know how to deal with children.
Hello. Victoria said, her voice stiff. Sophie climbed in, clutching her bear. She looked at Victoria, then at Lucas. Daddy, is she the princess?
Lucas chuckled as he climbed in. Something like that. Sophie, this is Victoria. She's my boss. Fiancée, Victoria corrected, looking at Sophie.
I'm going to be your stepmother for a while. Sophie frowned, processing this. She reached out a small, sticky hand and touched the silk of Victoria's dress. You're soft. Victoria flinched, then froze.
She looked down at the child's hand. Slowly, awkwardly, she reached out and patted Sophie's head. Thank you. You have nice curls. Lucas watched them.
He saw the terror in Victoria's eyes. She was terrified of intimacy, of connection. Let's go home, Lucas said. As the car pulled away, a black sedan parked down the street turned on its headlights. Inside, a man with a long-lens camera lowered his gear.
He dialed a number. Mr. Montgomery, the photographer said. I got them. They picked up a kid. And you're not going to believe where he lives.
This guy isn't a consultant. He's a nobody. On the other end of the line, Chip Montgomery swirled his brandy. Excellent. Dig deeper.
Find out where he came from before the garage. Everyone has a skeleton in the closet, and I want to hear his bones rattle. The next morning, Lucas woke up in a bed that cost more than his car. The sheets were Egyptian cotton, the pillows like clouds. For a second, he panicked, thinking he had overslept for his shift at Frank's garage.
Then the memory of the gala, the contract, and the penthouse flooded back. He sat up. The room was massive, overlooking the city skyline. He found Sophie in the kitchen. She was sitting at a marble island that seemed to stretch for miles, eating pancakes prepared by a private chef.
Daddy, try the blueberry syrup. Sophie squealed, her mouth covered in purple. Victoria was there, too, sitting at the head of the table. She was already dressed in a sharp, gray power suit, typing furiously on a tablet. She looked like she hadn't slept.
Good morning, she said without looking up. Your wardrobe has been updated. Check the closet. We have a press conference at 10:00 a.m. Lucas poured himself coffee. Press conference?
To announce the engagement formally and your appointment as lead engineer. We have to control the narrative before Chip does. Speaking of Chip, Lucas said, leaning against the counter. I need access to the server logs from the gala. I want to know who authorized the platform speed change.
Arthur will give you the credentials, Victoria said. She finally looked up. Her eyes lingered on his bare chest. He hadn't put a shirt on yet. She cleared her throat and looked away quickly.
Please put some clothes on. This is a place of business. It's a kitchen, Victoria. It's my kitchen. Daddy, are you really marrying her?
Sophie asked, swinging her legs. Lucas looked at Victoria. Yes, honey. We're a team now. Does that mean I get to stay here?
Yes. Forever. The room went quiet. Victoria stopped typing. For as long as we need to, Victoria said, her voice unusually gentle.
Finish your pancakes, Sophie. The nanny is taking you to the zoo today. The press conference was a circus. Flash bulbs popped like strobes. Reporters shouted over each other.
Lucas stood next to Victoria at the podium, his hand resting on the small of her back. It felt electric. Every time he touched her, he felt a jolt, part attraction, part warning. She was dangerous. Mr. Bennett, a reporter from The Times shouted, "Is it true you met Miss Sterling while working as a mechanic?" "
It is," Lucas said, leaning into the microphone. He decided to lean into the truth. " I was fixing a problem that a hundred engineers couldn't solve. Victoria values results, not pedigrees. That's why I fell for her."
He looked at Victoria. She looked surprised, then impressed. He was good at this. " Miss Sterling," another reporter yelled, "What about the rumors that the VX engine is unstable?" " The only thing unstable," Victoria said sharply, "is the employment status of anyone who bets against us.
Lucas has already optimized the thermal protocols. Production starts next month." It was going well. Too well. Then a reporter in the back stood up.