Chapter 225

Chapter 225
Blake

I stepped off the private jet at Heathrow, inhaling deeply. London air had a distinct quality to it—slightly damp, mingled with the scent of rain, diesel, and that uniquely British sense of permanence. The city sprawled beyond the airport, a mixture of centuries-old financial history and modern commercial ambition everywhere you looked.

My neck ached from the long flight, and despite the luxury of Sterling's private plane, I hadn't slept for shit. How could I, when Sophia's worried face kept appearing every time I closed my eyes? The guilt gnawed at my insides like a fucking parasite. Leaving her alone with three kids, especially with Jasper still so fragile, felt wrong on every level.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, rolling my shoulders to ease the tension. I couldn't afford to show weakness here. Not now, not in London, where sharks were circling, waiting for the American CEO to stumble.

At the VIP exit, two men waited for me. One was tall and muscular, wearing an expensive-looking black suit that barely contained his broad shoulders. The other was lean and gray-haired, impeccably dressed in what I recognized as a Savile Row suit, with thin wire-framed glasses perched on his nose. The contrast between them was stark – one looked like he could snap a man's neck without breaking a sweat, the other like he could destroy you with a single phone call.

"Mr. Sterling," the older man said, extending his hand for a quick, perfunctory shake. "Welcome to London. I'm Gideon Falk, your father's chief of European operations." His French accent was subtle but unmistakable, and his tone carried an air of superiority that instantly made me want to punch him in his smug face.

The larger man stepped forward with a genuine smile. "Elias Voss, head of security," he said in a deep voice with a slight Eastern European lilt. "How was your flight, sir? Comfortable, I hope?"

"As comfortable as an eight-hour flight can be," I replied, grateful for Elias's friendliness. "Though I've never been good at sleeping on planes." What I didn't say: I was too busy thinking about how I'd just abandoned my family when they needed me most. Fucking brilliant move, Sterling.

"The car is waiting," Gideon interrupted, already turning toward the exit. "We should proceed directly to headquarters. The team is assembled."

My jaw clenched involuntarily. This prick was already testing boundaries, acting like he was calling the shots. I could feel a headache forming at my temples.

"Perhaps Mr. Sterling would like to freshen up at the hotel first?" Elias suggested, falling into step beside me. "It's been a long journey."

Gideon's mouth tightened with disapproval. "Time is of the essence, Elias. The European markets wait for no man, not even a Sterling."

"The European markets have managed without me for decades. I think they can handle another goddamn hour," I said dryly, taking pleasure in the subtle flinch my language produced in Gideon's otherwise carefully controlled expression.

"Security protocol suggests we take the secure route directly to headquarters," Elias said firmly to Gideon. "We can't risk exposure in a hotel lobby when tensions around this merger are high."

"For God's sake, he's not the Prime Minister," Gideon snapped. "This isn't one of your military operations."

I watched their exchange with interest, my mind racing. Clearly, these two didn't get along, and I suspected their conflict went beyond professional disagreement. Great, I thought. Not only am I jet-lagged as hell and missing my family, but I'm walking into a fucking snake pit of office politics.

The drive to Canary Wharf was silent and tense. As we approached the financial district, gleaming towers of glass and steel rose up against the gray London sky. Our headquarters stood prominently along the Thames, at least three times the size of the Sterling building in New York.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I muttered under my breath as we pulled up to the entrance. My father's empire was even more extensive than I'd imagined. How the hell was I supposed to take control of this behemoth when I could barely manage my personal life?

Elias caught my eye in the rearview mirror and smiled. "Impressive, isn't it? Your father built this from the ground up fifteen years ago."

Inside, the building hummed with activity. Everyone moved with purpose, like the London Stock Exchange itself had been miniaturized and housed within these walls. Gideon walked ahead, barely looking back to check if I was following, while Elias stayed close to my side. My stomach knotted with each step. These people didn't know me. They had no reason to respect me. To them, I was just the American son who'd been handed the keys to the kingdom.

On the forty-second floor, a conference room full of executives awaited our arrival. As we entered, they all stood, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. I felt like a piece of meat being assessed for quality. Fuck them all, I thought. I didn't ask for this position, but I'd be damned if I'd let them see me sweat.

A sharp-featured woman in a perfectly tailored navy suit approached me first. "Liora Hale, head of public relations," she said, her British accent crisp and authoritative. "A word of advice, Mr. Sterling—don't speak to any British press without clearing it through me first. They're vultures compared to your American media."

"Noted," I replied, feeling all eyes on me. The weight of their collective doubt was almost physical, pressing down on my shoulders. They were assessing me, wondering if I was up to the task. None of them believed I could handle this British acquisition, that much was clear. I wanted to tell them all to go to hell.

The meeting was excruciating. Gideon deliberately spoke in French to several executives, leaving me completely out of the loop. Financial terms flew around the room, half in English, half in French, and I could feel my frustration mounting with each passing minute. My knuckles turned white as I gripped the armrests of my chair, fighting the urge to flip the table and walk out.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Elias shaking his head slightly, seeming to disapprove of Gideon's tactics. At least someone in this room wasn't actively trying to sabotage me.

"The London market will never respond positively to an American-led negotiation," Liora said directly to me, doubt evident in her tone. "The timing is problematic with Brexit uncertainties still lingering."

My blood was practically boiling now. Who the fuck did these people think they were? I was about to unleash hell when Elias stepped forward.

"Perhaps considering the time difference, Mr. Sterling might need a moment to adjust before we continue this discussion."

"Adjust?" The CFO looked annoyed. "We've barely started to cover the regulatory challenges."

"Fifteen minutes," Elias said firmly. "I'm sure you all could use a coffee break as well."

As the room reluctantly emptied, I turned to Elias. "Thank you," I said, barely containing the storm of emotions threatening to break loose.

He nodded once. "My job is to ensure you're at your best, sir. You can't make billion-dollar decisions while jet-lagged and ambushed."

I leaned against the conference table, suddenly feeling the weight of everything—this trip, the responsibility, the distance from Sophia and the kids. My chest felt tight, like I couldn't get enough air. "I should call Amanda," I said, more to myself than to Elias, then mentally kicked myself. Not Amanda. Sophia. Fuck, I still slipped up sometimes, especially when stressed.

"I'll give you some privacy," he replied, moving toward the door.

Left alone, I stared out at the London skyline, my reflection ghostly in the glass. My father's empire. My burden now. I was here for Sterling's future, to prove myself. Not for Gideon, not for James, and certainly not to be a corporate punching bag in London. I straightened my tie and pulled out my phone, ready to face whatever came next. If these British bastards wanted a fight, they'd get one.