The car moved like a polished weapon through the city, expensive and fast enough to feel powerful. Robert drove without a word, gloved hands steady on the wheel, the divider glass up. He knew better than to interrupt when Victor was reading.
Victor sat in the back, legs crossed, the tablet resting against his knee as glowing data streamed across the screen. He was dressed in a three-piece black suit with a black and crimson tie, still smelling like Elias's scent.
Clarke Industries. Now under Elias's name. On paper, the transfer was clean.
But Victor knew what "clean" usually meant in this world of business. Someone was manipulating the truth enough for everything to look normal.
