Chapter 94

Brandon's POV

I adjusted my tie as the face of Edward Blackwell, CEO of a top-tier London investment firm, stared back at me from my laptop screen. He looked exhausted—not surprising, considering it was nearly midnight in London. But in our world, when the Stark Group called, time zones became secondary to the deal at hand.

"As I was saying, Brandon," Edward continued, his British accent heavy with fatigue, "the regulatory shifts present challenges, but we can synchronize our strategy if we—"

A soft knock interrupted us. I glanced up as the door cracked open slightly.

"Sorry, let’s wrap this up for today, Edward," I said, closing the laptop. "We’ll continue when you’re more rested."

"Something urgent?" I asked James, leaning back in my chair.

"Mr. Stark, this is regarding Victoria’s contract," James replied, his expression a mask of professional neutrality as he placed a sleek folder on my desk.

I flipped it open to see Victoria Taylor’s signature scrawled at the bottom of our most rigorous talent agreement. "She signed? No attempts at negotiation?"

"She was visibly distressed," James noted, a flicker of something passing through his eyes. "She signed quickly, likely under pressure. Once she realized the extent of the restrictive clauses, she expressed significant frustration in the conference room."

A cold smile touched my lips. "I expected a more calculated response from her. Handle the rest according to the legal parameters."

"Yes, Mr. Stark." James hesitated. "I also met someone today who might be of use. Victoria’s former manager, Maya Coleman. She was left without a portfolio when Victoria terminated her previous contract. Since she is familiar with Victoria’s... professional history, I thought she might continue serving as her manager under our supervision."

I gave a dismissive wave. "Use your discretion on these operational matters."

"Of course." James straightened his suit. "There’s one more thing. Regarding Mrs. Stark’s former apartment... the lease was never officially terminated, and the landlord has been holding it. He contacted me today with a security concern. Apparently, an unidentified individual has been loitering around the property frequently."

My fingers stilled on the desk. "Did he provide specifics?"

"He has taken photographs and wanted to know if he should involve law enforcement next time."

"Tell him to call the police immediately," I said, my voice hardening. "Unidentified individuals near private property are a security risk. We don't take chances with her safety."

"I’ve already instructed him accordingly." James paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Also, Elizabeth Taylor—Summer’s mother—visited the apartment. When she found it empty, she left in a state of agitation, voicing some rather harsh criticisms of her daughter."

My jaw tightened at the mention of the woman’s ongoing hostility. "Noted."

I shifted gears. "What is the status of Alexander and Victoria’s wedding?"

James looked surprised. "I don’t believe Alexander has made any concrete plans yet."

"Then provide him with the necessary incentive. I want that alliance finalized immediately."

James nodded, understanding the unspoken directive. "I’ll handle it, sir."

A soft knock interrupted us again, and Summer’s head peeked around the door, her expression curious.

"Am I interrupting? Are you still working?" she asked, her eyes moving between James and me.

"Not at all," James replied quickly, gathering his papers. "I was just finishing. Mr. Stark, Mrs. Stark, I should be going."

"Wait," Summer called out as he headed for the door. "I’ve prepared dinner. James, you’re welcome to join us."

"You’re very kind, Mrs. Stark," James declined with practiced politeness. "But I really must attend to a pressing matter. Please, enjoy your meal. Good evening."

I caught the flash of confusion on Summer’s face as James made his hasty exit. She turned to me once the door closed.

"Was he in a hurry for a reason? Did you assign him something stressful?" she asked, approaching my desk.

"Business as usual," I answered, watching her as her eyes fell on the open folder.

"Is that Victoria’s contract?" She picked it up, her eyes widening. "I’m not reading this wrong, am I? These terms are incredibly one-sided."

"What’s considered unequal for some is simply the cost of doing business for others," I said, rising from my chair and placing a steadying hand on her back.

"What did you make for dinner?" I asked, guiding her toward the door to change the subject.

"Just some light, healthy dishes," she replied, momentarily distracted. "I’ve noticed you’ve been coughing lately. Since you refuse to take medicine, I’m hoping to help you through your diet."

"Don't change the subject," she added, looking up at me. "What do you mean by Victoria's situation?"

"Think about her standing in the industry right now," I suggested as we made our way downstairs. "She needs the Stark name more than we need her talent."

The dining room was set with several light, healthy dishes. I couldn't help but look at the table with a bit of skepticism.

"Summer, this meal looks... exceptionally disciplined."

"If you took care of yourself, I wouldn't have to resort to this," she retorted, a hint of a challenge in her eyes.

I laughed softly, pulling out her chair for her. "Perhaps I should start considering what a married man needs to pay attention to."

She arched an eyebrow. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"That when your wife starts monitoring your health," I said, leaning down to kiss her forehead, "it’s because she is the only one who truly looks out for you."

She blushed slightly but met my gaze directly. "Someone has to, since you clearly won't do it yourself."

Later, as Summer described her progress in the industry, I realized I’d been absentmindedly tracing patterns on her hand. These small intimacies had become second nature. Perhaps that, I reflected, was what a married man should truly notice—not just the care she took of his health, but how fundamentally his life had improved simply because she was in it.