Chapter 39
Daniel's POV
The blue light of the TV flickered in my darkened apartment, casting shadows across the walls. I'd just finished my evening workout and was halfway through watching "Me Before You" - some romance film about a quadriplegic guy and his caretaker that Sarah had loved before the accident. I'd never gotten around to seeing it with her, and now guilt had finally pushed me to watch it alone.
Ten minutes passed. Still nothing. The silence stretched, reminding me of the past week—a blur of resignation paperwork and tense negotiations with Reynolds. At least that was over. The new guy had started yesterday. But this new silence, the one on Claire's end, was infinitely worse.
I picked up my phone again, feeling an inexplicable need to check if she'd responded. Nothing. A nagging worry began to form in the back of my mind. I typed out another message: "Everything okay?" and hit send.
Five more minutes passed. Ten. Still nothing.
"Claire?" I texted again.
Finally, a response appeared: "Not really. Can I call you in a minute?"
My pulse quickened. Something was wrong. I immediately paused the movie and sat up straight, all traces of relaxation vanishing.
My phone rang, startling me despite my anticipation. Claire's name flashed on the screen. I swiped to answer.
"Hello?"
"I'm at the convention center," Claire said, her voice low and rushed. "Don't say anything, just listen."
I straightened up, instantly alert, my senses sharpening the way they used to before a mission. Something wasn't right.
Through the phone, I could hear the background noise of a crowded event - glasses clinking, distant conversation, the hum of a large space filled with people.
"Ms. Stanton," a male voice with a British accent said clearly through the phone.
"Mr. Vaughn," Claire's voice replied, sounding professional and detached. "Enjoying the forum?"
"Henry, please," the man insisted. "And yes, though it's improved significantly now that I've found the most beautiful American woman in the room."
A flush of heat spread across my chest, not the warmth of embarrassment but the first signs of protective instinct kicking in. I recognized the predatory tone—I'd heard it countless times from men who viewed women as conquests.
"Thank you," Claire replied, her tone cool and unimpressed.
"I know a speak-easy nearby," the man continued. "Most authentic in Seattle. Would you join me for a drink? We could discuss the potential partnership between our companies without all these... distractions."
I mentally calculated the driving time from my apartment to the convention center—fifteen minutes if I pushed it. The tactical assessment came automatically, a remnant of my military training.
"I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to decline," Claire responded. "I have an early morning tomorrow."
"Surely you can spare an hour," he pressed. "Business and pleasure often mix quite well."
"I have a fiancé," Claire said firmly.
"Ah yes, Richard Pierce," the man - Henry - replied, sounding amused rather than deterred. "The key word being 'fiancé,' not husband. Long-term commitments and short-term pleasures don't have to be mutually exclusive, Ms. Stanton."
A cold, focused anger settled in my chest.
"I'm not interested," Claire said, her voice hard as steel now. "If you'll excuse me."
I heard movement, then the background noise faded slightly, as if she'd walked away. But apparently, this guy couldn't take a hint.
"Ms. Stanton," Henry's voice returned, closer to the phone now. "Forgive my persistence, but I rarely encounter women of your caliber. Intelligence and beauty in equal measure is... intoxicating."
I heard Claire sigh. "Mr. Vaughn, I've made myself clear."
"Indeed you have. But clarity doesn't preclude reconsideration. Perhaps I could tempt you with information about the European expansion plans your father is so keen on?"
"My father has his own channels for business intelligence," Claire responded coolly.
"But I have insider knowledge that hasn't reached those channels yet. Worth at least one drink, wouldn't you say?"
I could almost feel Claire's frustration through the phone. "That sounds dangerously close to insider trading, Mr. Vaughn."
He laughed, the sound grating against my nerves like sandpaper. "Not at all. Just two business leaders sharing insights. And perhaps getting to know each other better."
I heard a subtle change in the ambient noise, followed by what sounded like Claire shifting position.
"Did you just touch my arm?" Claire's voice was deadly quiet.
"A friendly gesture," Henry replied smoothly. "Americans are so formal sometimes."
"Did you hear that?" Claire whispered into the phone.
"Yeah," I said, my voice controlled but tight. "Who is this asshole?"
"Henry Vaughn. CEO of a London investment firm. My father wants their partnership." She sounded tired suddenly. "He's been following me around all night."
"Want me to come down there?" I offered before I could stop myself, already reaching for my keys.
Claire laughed softly. "And do what? Beat up a potential business partner worth millions? My hero."
Her teasing tone didn't mask the exhaustion in her voice. I knew she could handle herself, but something about this situation had bothered her enough to call me. That meant something.
"Where are you now?" I asked.
"In a quiet corner," she said. "Away from wandering hands."
"He touched you?" The question came out with deadly precision, each word distinctly separated.
"Nothing I couldn't handle with a strategic step backward and a cold smile."
I took a deep breath, forcing my body to stand down from high alert. "Why did you call me, Claire? To make me jealous?"
"Would that work?" she countered, and I could almost hear her smirk through the phone.