"I know what kind of man you are," Ryley said softly, eyes flickering with something that was both fond and fatal. "You're fair. And you're loyal—to Clyde."
The blond gave a small, dry laugh, the kind that barely masked a deeper ache.
"I won't ask you to stain your hands for me. This law…" Ryley's gaze dropped for a second, then lifted again—wiser, steadier.
"If Clyde wants me here… he'll fight to make it happen."
Before long, a figure cloaked in shadow approached, pulling Maximilian out of his thoughts.
"Mr. Ryley wants Vincent to marry Miss Starla. Immediately," Mitchell said as he came into view, his eyes sweeping the surroundings before handing over a folded piece of paper. "He initially demanded that Madam Beckett send Mr. Mervyn and Mr. Morgan away from headquarters in exchange for keeping the paparazzi scandal quiet. She refused. So now—we move fast."
A flicker of surprise passed over Maximilian's face as he unfolded the note. His expression hardened. "Why me?"
