He stared at me, expressionless, but I could’ve sworn the temperature dropped thirty degrees.

Right. I forgot Alex possessed roughly the same amount of humor as a rock.

I gave him a quick overview of what happened with the fire. He knew all this already, but the recap provided an opportunity to gauge his reaction in person.

He’d been oddly calm about the destruction of one of his most valuable properties. Granted, he wasn’t exactly an emotive person, but I’d expected something. A strong rebuke, a sniper across from my townhouse…hell, even a frown.

He didn’t give me any of that.

“I see,” he said after I finished. The bitter residue of guilt lingered in my mouth, but it vaporized at his next words. “I looked into it. The fire wasn’t the result of a freak electrical accident. It was sabotage.”

Sabotage. The word detonated like an atomic bomb. Shockwaves rippled through the room, and I stared at Alex, sure he was joking if it weren’t for the fact he didn’t joke. Ever. “What are you talking about?”

“My team investigated the fire since I can’t trust those insurance idiots to produce a single ounce of competence,” Alex said. “The wiring was old, but it didn’t explode by itself. Someone gave it a hand.”

“There was no one in there except me, Vuk, Willow, and the construction crew,” I said. “The crew members were thoroughly vetted by Harper.”

“No, it wouldn’t have been one of them. Whoever did it snuck in before the workers arrived, shaved off the insulation on the remaining good wires, and repositioned them to maximize their chances of exposure.”

Christ. It was like I’d gone to sleep and woke up in the middle of a Nate Reynolds movie. “Your team managed to ascertain all that from a burned-down vault?”

Alex’s smile didn’t contain a single trace of warmth. “I hire the best.”

If he was worried about the saboteur targeting another one of his buildings, he didn’t show it.

Sabotage. I turned the word and its implications over in my head.

“That doesn’t make sense,” I said. “Who would want to sabotage the vault to the point of committing arson?” The nightlife industry was cutthroat, but most of the players shied away from outright crimes unless they were in the mob. If they were in the mob, the type of establishment they ran was vastly different from mine; there was no threat there.

“I have my fair share of enemies. So does Vuk. So do you.” Alex sounded bored, like we were discussing the weather instead of arson. “Hunting down the culprit will take time, but I will find them.”

Finally, there it was—a speck of icy rage that belied Alex’s outward composure. Whoever the culprit was, they were in for a world of pain once he tracked them down.

“I don’t have enemies,” I said. Competitors, sure. People who didn’t like me, absolutely. But enemies? I wasn’t in the mafia. I didn’t have people who wanted to kill me or hurt the people close to me.

“Everyone that’s rich and in the public eye has enemies, even if they don’t know it,” Alex said. He tapped his watch; it’d been ten minutes. “I’ll take care of the saboteur. You take care of repairing the damage.”

I’d forgotten about my impending decision regarding the club’s future; I’d been too distracted by Sloane and this meeting with Alex.

Kai had a point about my martyr act, but unless I discovered a way to freeze time, I would never get the club up and running by the deadline.

I told Alex as much.

“That bears no relevance to our situation,” he said, checking his watch again. “Were you not the one who told Markovic you’ll get it done, no matter what? ‘If you say no, the club will still open. If I don’t secure the vault, I’ll find another location. It’s not ideal, but business isn’t always about the ideal. It’s about getting things done, and I’ll get it done with or without you.’”

I grimaced. It was eerie hearing my conversation with another person quoted back to me verbatim.

“You wanted something of your own; well, this is your chance,” Alex said. “Unless, of course, you lied and only started the club for your inheritance. If that’s the case, I gravely misjudged you, and I do not like being wrong.” His green eyes glinted with warning. “Make a decision by noon on January first.”

He stood and left me alone in his office, his words hanging like a guillotine ready to fall.

There was nothing like being reprimanded by a man who did not give one flying fuck about you to put things into perspective quickly.

Alex may have been invested in the club, but he wasn’t personally invested me, and he’d cut straight to the heart of the matter.

He was also right. The Vault started as a necessity because of my inheritance but it quickly became a passion project. I liked building a business. I loved the thrills, the challenges, and the creation of something that was mine. Was I really going to let an arbitrary deadline ruin that for me?

I didn’t need until January first to get my answer; I had it by the time I returned to New York later that day.

However, I held off on telling Alex; I had another, much more urgent matter to attend to. My trial period with Sloane officially ended tomorrow, and I needed to get through to her before then.

My meeting with Alex had preoccupied me enough to dull the pain of last night, but when Sloane’s office building came into view, a gut-wrenching ache resurfaced.

I want to break up.

You love me, and I don’t feel the same toward you.

The ache sharpened into a knife and twisted. Other men might’ve given up after being so thoroughly dismissed, and I would’ve had I thought she meant it. But the only thing worse than hearing those words come out of Sloane’s mouth was seeing her face when she said them. Her anguish had mirrored mine, and I hated how much hurt she had to have experienced to be so afraid of love.

Or maybe I was just fucking delusional.

Either way, it wasn’t over yet. There were minutes left until the buzzer, but I still had a chance to turn the tide and score a comeback victory. That shred of hope was the only thing that kept me going because the thought of losing Sloane…

It’s not going to happen. You won’t lose her.

I couldn’t. Not when I’d just found her. Not when losing her meant losing a crucial piece of myself in the process.

My heart pounded painfully as I entered the building, but anxiety melted into confusion when I arrived at Kensington PR and found Jillian and several junior publicists crowded outside Sloane’s office, their ears literally pressed to the door.

“What…?”

“Shh.” Jillian placed a finger over her mouth. Perry, she mouthed.

Oh, fuck.

I came up beside her and snuck a peek through the window. Sloane hadn’t fully closed her blinds, revealing a glimpse of the drama unfolding inside.

Perry Wilson, the gossip guru himself, gesticulated wildly. It was only the second time I’d seen him in person, and once again, I was struck by how ordinary he looked.

Signature blond highlights and pink bow tie aside, he could’ve passed for any random man I passed on the street. He couldn’t be taller than five-five or five-six, his scrawny frame squeezed into a blazer and jeans. For someone with so much bravado behind the keyboard, he was awfully small in person.

His voice, however, was loud enough to bleed through the door. “I know it was you. You’re the one who planted those false tips for me.”

Sloane sat behind her desk, observing him with a bored expression. “Perry, darling, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a publicist with legitimate business concerns. I don’t have time to engage in the type of subterfuge you’re accusing me of.” She tapped her phone. “You’re already being sued for libel. Don’t add slander to the mix.”

Perry’s face turned the same color as his tie. “I have eyes and ears everywhere, Sloane. They told me Tilly overhead you discussing the affair at the Russos’ holiday party. Now Soraya’s stupid minions have gotten me banned from social media, and that libel suit is bullshit.”