"Alright, then. Go be the big scary CEO. I’ll spend the day with Ivy. Keep her company, keep her distracted, maybe coax her into some retail therapy. She deserves it after last night."
Winn arched a brow, deadpan. "You mean after the break-in or after me?"
Sylvia grinned wickedly over her mug. "Both. Definitely both."
"Would you get her ready for a date this evening? I’d like to propose properly."
"Sure," Sylvia replied, lips curving into a catlike smile. Then she leaned across the counter and whispered, "A virgin?!"
"Oh God, Sylvia!" Winn pressed a hand over his face and groaned. "Please don’t embarrass her."
"No, no, I won’t embarrass her," Sylvia promised far too quickly. Her grin widened. "But you? Oh, big brother, I can embarrass you all day."
Winn groaned louder. He was beginning to regret ever confiding in her. "I’ll see you later," he muttered, grabbing his bag from the counter. He tossed his black card down and headed for the door.
Sylvia picked up the card with a victorious glint in her eye. "Dangerous mistake, Winn," she murmured under her breath, twirling the card between her fingers.
In the bedroom, Ivy rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Just as she considered getting up to fix herself, a soft knock rattled the door.
"Ivy? Are you up? I made coffee." Sylvia called.
"Yeah," Ivy answered, scrambling upright. She opened the door and managed a sheepish smile. "Hey, Sylvia."
"Come on out," Sylvia said. "We have a big day."
"Yes," Sylvia declared, already looping her arm through Ivy’s before she could object. She held up Winn’s card. "Winn dropped his card. And we... are going to use it."
"What? No!" Ivy recoiled. "Why would I do that?"
Sylvia arched a brow, her smirk widening. "I think the better question is—why wouldn’t you?" She tugged Ivy into the sitting room before she could dig her heels in.
"I mean, what would I even buy?" she asked nervously.
Sylvia tapped her chin as if the list was endless. "Oh, I don’t know... clothes? Shoes? Lingerie?"
"I don’t know if I can," Ivy whispered. "It feels... wrong."
Sylvia leaned in. "He asked ’us’ to use it which is why he left it behind. Come on. There is this pretty pair of shoes I have been eyeing for ages."
"Okay....fine." Ivy finally agreed.
Sharona swirled the last sip of her martini as the city glittered outside her penthouse windows. She slid a sleek folder across the table toward Tom. "My people didn’t find much at her house," she said coolly, "but what they found is gold."
Tom leaned forward, his jaw tightening as he flipped open the documents. His dark brows furrowed. "She is a dancer so? That is not going to stop Winn from marrying her." He said it with disdain. The source of thɪs content is 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝗇𝖾𝗍
Sharona smirked, a cruel little curve of her lips. "She dances at Commissioned. Do you know that club?" She didn’t wait for his answer.
"It’s a temple for wealthy men, darling. Exclusive, discreet, and very, very expensive. The women don’t just dance for tips—they entertain. And sometimes, if the man is rich enough, powerful enough, they take the party to the platinum booths. Private."
Tom’s chest burned hot with disgust. "You’re implying—"
"I’m not implying." Sharona cut him off smoothly. "I’m telling you. There is no way a girl as sexy as this one goes unnoticed in that place. Dancing is just a front. Always has been."
Tom pushed away from the table. "Are you saying what I think you are saying?"
Sharona lifted one elegant shoulder in a shrug. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction.
The realization hit Tom. "Winn brought a hooker to bear the Kane name?"
Again, that infuriating shrug.
Tom’s rage exploded. He slammed the folder shut and shoved it across the table, breathing hard. "The fucking bastard!" he roared. "How dare he taint the Kane name with—" His throat tightened.
"Get her out of the picture, and we are back in business. The way it should be."
He shoved back his chair and stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket from the armrest. "I’ll deal with this."
Sharona leaned against the table, watching him with the satisfied smile of a puppeteer who had just tugged the right string. "Good boy," she purred, lifting her martini in a mock toast.
Tom stormed out, slamming the door.
He slid into his car. His hands tightened around the wheel as the car roared to life.
Every mile closer to House of Kane felt like stoking a furnace inside his chest. By the time the building came into view, his fury had hardened.
Tom didn’t wait for the receptionist at the lobby to call ahead. He blew past the security desk. He marched up the grand staircase two steps at a time, fueled by venom.
"Excuse me, sir!" Linda scrambled from behind her desk. "Sir, you can’t just go in there without clearance—"
"Get the fuck out of my way!" Tom thundered without breaking stride. Her fingers shook as she hurried to her desk and dialed security.
Tom shoved open the doors without knocking. Winn sat behind his desk, reviewing documents on his laptop. He didn’t even flinch at the intrusion, though his eyes flicked up slowly.
"You bring a hooker into my house, into my home?" Tom bellowed. "To carry the Kane name? Are you gunning exponentially at ridiculing me? At dragging everything I built into the mud?"
Winn leaned back in his chair, calm where Tom was fire, though his jaw twitched with restrained anger. "You invaded her home." His eyes narrowed as realization dawned. "That’s the only way you could’ve found out anything about her so quickly. Even I am not that good."
Tom froze for a fraction of a second, but pride wouldn’t let him falter. He puffed his chest. "That is not the point! Whatever it is I did, I did for you! For this family."
Winn rose from behind his desk. He closed the distance, his presence a wall of defiance. "A couple of weeks ago, you were in here," Winn said, "begging me to get married. Begging me to have grandpa’s will read."