Conflicted Loyalties

Alex.

"So, gentlemen, that concludes our quarterly overview." I closed the presentation with a decisive click, surveying the boardroom. The usual suspects stared back at me – old money in expensive suits, their expressions ranging from boredom to barely concealed curiosity. I knew what they were waiting for, and it wasn't my thoughts on our Asian market expansion.

"Any questions?" I asked, deliberately casual.

Harold Kensington, a relic from my father's era, cleared his throat. "Just one, Alex. This... engagement to Ava Silver. Is it wise?"

I kept my expression neutral, though my jaw tightened. "In what way, Harold?"

"Strategically speaking." He adjusted his glasses, giving him time to choose his words. "Silver Innovations directly competes with us in three key markets. The board is concerned about potential conflicts of interest."

"A competitor turned partner," I corrected smoothly. "Our collaboration on the clean energy initiative has already increased projected valuations by eighteen percent."

Victoria Chen, the only woman on the board and one of the few members I genuinely respected, leaned forward. "The personal angle complicates things, Alex. Particularly given your previous relationship with Vivian Harper."

Ah. There it was.

I took a calculated sip of water. "My personal relationships are not relevant to this discussion."

"They become relevant," Harold shot back, "when they appear in every business publication in the country. And when they directly impact stock prices."

I suppressed a sigh. We'd gained three points since the photos of Ava and me on the balcony had surfaced. Apparently, the market found our "romance" as compelling as the tabloids did.

"If you must know," I said, my tone making it clear they absolutely did not need to know, "Vivian and I had already decided to part ways before my engagement to Ava was announced. The timing was unfortunate, but there was no overlap."

The lie slid easily from my tongue. Too easily, perhaps. When had dishonesty become so effortless?

"And you're certain," Victoria pressed, "that this arrangement won't compromise company interests?"

"I'm certain it will enhance them," I said firmly. "Now, if there are no questions about actual business matters..."

The meeting wrapped shortly after, leaving me with a throbbing headache and the distinct impression that I was juggling too many charades at once. I retreated to my office, loosening my tie as I stared out at the Seattle skyline.

The city stretched before me and somewhere out there, Ava was probably handling her own board, her own questions. The thought of her sparked something uncomfortably close to concern.

My intercom buzzed. "Richard's here to see you," my assistant announced.

"Send him in."

Richard strode in without knocking. He dropped into the chair across from my desk, eyeing me critically.

"You look like shit," he said cheerfully.

"Your observational skills remain unparalleled," I replied dryly.

"Family life not agreeing with you?" He smirked. "Gotta say, I never pegged you as the stepfather type."

I shot him a warning look. "What do you want?"

His expression shifted to something more serious. "We've got a problem with the Tokyo deal. Silver Innovations has undercut our bid by six percent."

"What?" I sat up straighter. "That's impossible. We had exclusivity."

"Had being the operative word." Richard slid a tablet across my desk displaying an email from our Tokyo contact. "They pulled out this morning, said Silver offered better terms."

I scanned the email, a sinking feeling in my stomach. "This doesn't make sense. Ava didn't mention anything about Tokyo yesterday."

Richard raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Maybe your fiancée doesn't tell you everything."

"She's not—" I caught myself, remembering that for all Richard knew, the engagement was real. "It's complicated."

"Yeah, no shit." He leaned forward, lowering his voice despite the fact that we were alone. "Look, Alex, I've known you since Stanford. We've done a lot of questionable things together, but this... this is next level, even for you."

I frowned. "What's your point?"

"My point is, you're playing with fire. Ava Silver isn't some model or socialite you can charm and discard. She's a shark, just like you. And now you're sleeping with the enemy."

"I'm not sleeping with—" I stopped abruptly, the memory of Ava in that flimsy nightgown flashing unbidden through my mind. "It's a business arrangement. That's all."

Richard's skeptical look said it all. "Right. And that's why you can't stop talking about her."

"I haven't mentioned her once," I defended.

"You didn't have to. It's written all over your face." He made a vague gesture toward me. "You get this look whenever she comes up—like a man trying very hard not to think about something he can't stop thinking about."

I scowled. "That's the most ridiculous armchair psychology I've ever heard."

"Is it?" He shrugged. "Look, I'm not judging. She's hot, in that terrifying, might-eat-you-alive kind of way. But don't lose sight of what matters here. Russo Corp comes first. Always."

"I know that," I said, irritation creeping into my voice. "I've dedicated my entire life to this company."

"And your father before you," Richard added, a deliberate jab at a sore spot. "Just make sure all this playing house doesn't distract you from the legacy you're supposed to be building."

The mention of my father sent a familiar chill down my spine. Jonathan Russo had been a titan, a legend in Seattle business circles. His shadow still loomed large over everything I did, every decision I made. Even from the grave, he was watching, judging, finding me wanting.

"I know what I'm doing," I said, more confidently than I felt. "The Tokyo deal isn't lost yet. I'll handle it."

Richard nodded, clearly unconvinced but smart enough not to push further. "Whatever you say, boss. Just remember—no piece of ass is worth the company, not even one that comes with its own Fortune 500."

I stared at him coldly. "Don't call her that again."

Richard's eyebrows shot up in surprise, then a slow, knowing grin spread across his face. "Well, well. Look who's getting territorial."

"Get out," I said, turning back to my computer.

"Going, going," he conceded, backing toward the door. "Oh, one more thing—Vivian's been calling the office. Says you're not answering your cell."

My jaw tightened. "I'll deal with it."

"Better you than me," Richard said with a mock shudder. "That woman scares me more than Silver does, and that's saying something."

After he left, I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. Vivian. Another complication I needed to address, and soon. The PR team's narrative relied on our relationship having ended before news of my "engagement" broke. Reality was messier—we'd never formally broken up, never had that conversation explicitly. I'd been avoiding it, taking the coward's way out by simply pulling back, responding less frequently to texts, claiming work kept me busy.

As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone buzzed. Vivian's face flashed on the screen, a photo from a yacht trip last summer, her laughing face tilted toward the sun. I stared at it, remembering how simple things had seemed then. Uncomplicated.

With a sigh, I answered. "Vivian."

* * *