Justice of the Supreme War God

Chapter 19: The Paste PART 1

Diana stood up slowly.

The kind of slowly that had nothing to do with hesitation and everything to do with control — the deliberate, architectural composure of a woman deciding exactly how much temperature to put into the next sixty seconds.

"Liam." She set both hands flat on the conference table. "What exactly do you think you're doing?"

Liam didn't look at her. He was still oriented toward Reynolds with the focused attention of a man who had decided which person in the room mattered and had arranged himself accordingly.

"I'm having a business conversation," he said pleasantly. "You're welcome to observe."

"In my conference room," Diana said. "In my building. During my meeting, which you were not invited to, announced for, or in any way expected at." She kept her voice level. Every word clipped to its exact required length. "So I'll ask you again. What do you think you're doing?"

Liam turned to her then, and the smile he produced was the particular kind that men like him kept specifically for moments like this — warm on the surface, with something deeply satisfied underneath it.

"I'm offering Mr. Reynolds options," he said. "That's how business works, Diana. Competition. Alternatives." He tilted his head with mock sympathy. "Don't take it personally."

"You walked into a closed meeting uninvited to undercut a contract I've spent four months building." Her eyes were very steady. "That is not competition. That is sabotage. And you know the difference."

Liam finally swiveled fully toward her, resting one arm along the back of his chair with the casual sprawl of someone who found the conversation mildly entertaining.

"You know what your problem is?" he said. "You think because you have an office and a title and a building with your name on the lease that you're operating on the same level as established families." He let that sit. "The Steels have relationships with Strong Inc's parent company going back eleven years. Carter here knows who we are. He knows what we can deliver." Another smile, this one with edges. "A mid-level accounting firm run by a woman who married a homeless man she found in a newspaper ad is a charming story, Diana. It's just not a Strong Inc story."

Reynolds had said nothing throughout this exchange. He sat with the contained, professional neutrality of a man who had been in enough rooms to know when to wait.

Diana looked at Liam Steel — at his expensive suit, his practiced smile, his complete and comfortable certainty that he could walk into any room he chose and rearrange it to his satisfaction — and she felt something very cold and very precise move through her chest.

"Mr. Reynolds." She turned to him directly. "You have our proposal. You have four months of documented preparation, verified case studies, and a service structure built specifically around Strong Inc's operational requirements. What you also have is a man who walked into this meeting uninvited because his family is unhappy with mine on a personal level." She held Reynolds's gaze. "I'll let you assess which of those things tells you more about how business actually gets done."

Reynolds looked at her. Then at Liam. Then at the contract on the table.

Liam spread his hands magnanimously. "Carter, the Steel family offer stands. Double capacity, half the f*e. You know our track record. This isn't a difficult decision."

Reynolds stood.

He picked up his copy of the Morrison proposal and tucked it under his arm with the noncommittal precision of a man who had made his decision and was not planning to announce it in the current atmosphere.

"Ms. Morrison," he said. "Mr. Steel." A brief, professional nod to each. "I'll be in touch after I've had the opportunity to review everything that's happened today."

"Mr. Reynolds —" Diana started.

"I appreciate your time." He was already moving toward the door. Measured steps. No rush. The exit of a man who had decided that this particular room was finished for him today.

The door closed.

The conference room was very quiet.

Diana stood at the head of the table with the signed contract in front of her and four months of work sitting in Carter Reynolds's briefcase on its way out of the building.

Liam stood and buttoned his jacket with the satisfied ease of a man collecting something he had always considered his.

"Nothing personal," he said again.

Diana said nothing.

She was looking at the door Reynolds had walked through, and her face was the still, controlled surface of someone who has gone past the point where expression is useful.

Liam left without another word.