6.

CHRISTIAN

Leaning back in my chair, my fingers tapped against my desk, waiting for a response from Liam.

I stood up, walking towards the view of a window, staring down from my office on the top floor of Hilton Tech, I looked down at it all—the empire I had built, the empire I alone controlled.

And yet, somehow, I had been forced into something beyond my control.

A marriage.

With her.

Penelope Castillo.

The name itself was an irritation, my jaw clenched at the mere thought of her. I could still see her standing in this office, stubborn and unyielding, with those too-bright blue eyes and that ridiculous messy bun. As if she belonged anywhere near me. As if she deserved the Hilton name.

She didn’t.

And I would make sure she never forgot it.

A cruel smirk found its way to my lips as I thought of the house I had bought—far outside the city, isolated. No friends, no Jess, no one to run to when things became unbearable.

She was about to step into hell.

And I was going to enjoy every second of it‐

A knock at the door pulled me out from thoughts, already irritated at the interruption. "Come in."

The door swung open, and my secretary stepped inside. "Mr. Hilton, it appears Mr. Anderson isn't back from his lunch break. Would you like for me to send for him? The boardroom is ready. The investors have arrived."

I exhaled, dragging a hand through my hair before standing. "He's on an errand." Adjusting my tie as I put on my suit, slipping on my watch. "Let’s get this over with."

Glancing over at the clock, he should have been back by now.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed, pulling it from my pocket. Whatever was left of my mood was ruined as I read the text.

Liam: She told me off. Said if you want to see her, you know how to get her number. I’m on my lunch break. See you later.

Slowing to a stop, I reread the text again and again.

She had told Liam off? Or she told me off? The nerve of that woman.

My grip tightened around the phone, but to my own surprise, I let out a low chuckle. She thought she could push me away? Ignore me? I love it when they play hard to get, I will take my time in breaking you Penelope Castillo.

If she thought for one second that she had any power in this situation, she was about to learn how wrong she was.

Tucking the phone back into my suit pocket, I pushed open the doors to the boardroom.

The men inside turned towards me immediately. There were five of them—three potential investors, each representing powerful foreign corporations.

The Russians sat to my left, their suits a little too tight, their smiles a little too wide. The French delegation looked far too relaxed, while the Lithuanians just observed.

My company—was one of the most powerful and feared in the industry. Artificial intelligence. Cybersecurity. Data. Everything that mattered in the modern world was under my control. It's no little wonder why everyone thinks they can invest to have the Hilton name on paper alongside theirs.

I took my seat at the head of the table, resting my elbows on the table. "Gentlemen," I greeted. "Let’s make this quick."

The discussion began with the usual pleasantries—projections, risk assessments, and the potential benefits of merging resources.

And I listened, unimpressed, my company was already untouchable, these men weren’t here to help me, they were here to use me.

And I didn’t take kindly to being used.

Halfway through, one of the Russian investors leaned back in his chair, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "You run a tight ship, Mr. Hilton," he said in accented English. "Perhaps a little… too tight, no? Some would say you are more interested in control than progress."

A chuckle passed between the Russian and the French investor. Then, in Russian, the Frenchman muttered under his breath, “Может быть, поэтому он застрял на втором месте после своего отца. Собака на коротком поводке." (Maybe that's why he’s stuck playing second to his father. A dog on a short leash)

One would react almost immediately, throwing them out of their building, but didn't, at least not yet. I simply smiled.

"It’s always amusing when men drowning in scandals feel bold enough to insult others." I replied in Russian, grateful that my mother didn't let me ever skip language lessons.

The Frenchman’s face went pale. The Russian investor’s smirk disappeared.

I leaned backward, crossing my leg over the other. "Shall we discuss the offshore accounts your company has been funneling untraceable money into? Or perhaps the rather messy incident in Saint Petersburg last summer—an employee that went missing? Or—" I turned to the Lithuanian investor, whose face was now a shade too still— "the interesting recordings I have of your private conversations with certain government officials?"

Silence.

Thick. Uncomfortable. Silence.

Now it was my turn to smile, adjusting my cufflinks. "I don’t make deals with men who waste my time," I said. "This meeting is over."

I stood up, buttoning my suit jacket. "You may see yourselves out." Walking out, my secretary was hot on my trail, a little out of breath. "Mr. Hilton, should I—?"

"Cancel any further discussions with them." I didn't even let her finish. "If they have anything else to say, tell them to wire it through the usual channels, or to contact Liam."

She nodded briskly before stepping aside as I moved towards the elevator, my mood darker than before, the irritation was back.

Not because of the investors.

Not because of the wasted time.

Because of her.

I pulled out my phone, rereading Liam’s text, again as I got into the elevator, descending to the ground floor.

She wanted me to come myself?

Fine.

I'd make sure she regretted it. Putting my phone away and sliding into the back seat of my black Aston Martin, I gave the driver a single command.

"Take me to her”