The executive wing of Jefferson Global was quieter than usual, the kind of silence that came before a storm. The marble floors reflected the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the scent of fresh-cut orchids wafted faintly in the air.
Elsa Jefferson walked into the boardroom like she owned the skyline.
Because she did.
Dressed in a fitted scarlet dress beneath a sharp cream blazer, Elsa's heels clicked with authority. Every step reminded the room who the queen was. Her hair was pinned back in a loose chignon, her lips painted the color of war.
Her assistant leaned in as she reached the door.
"She's already inside, Miss Jefferson. She insisted on an early arrival."
Elsa arched an eyebrow. "Bold."
The doors opened.
Seated at the far end of the long obsidian table was a woman who looked like she belonged in a painting—graceful, mysterious, dangerous. Nyra Alis.
Her raven-black hair cascaded down one shoulder in silky waves, and her tailored midnight blue pantsuit looked like it had been spun from shadows. She rose slowly, offering Elsa a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Ms. Jefferson," she said, voice smooth as silk. "A pleasure."
Elsa didn't offer her hand. She walked straight to her chair, lowered herself deliberately, and offered the faintest of nods.
"Let's skip the fluff, Miss Alis. You're here on behalf of the Eastern Wind Consortium to pitch an energy partnership. What's your angle?"
Nyra didn't flinch. In fact, her smile deepened.
"Efficiency. Global reach. Mutual benefit. But mostly…" She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in amusement. "Curiosity."
"Curiosity?"
"Yes. I've heard things, Ms. Jefferson. About you. About your company's sudden rise. The way you crushed competition, exposed fraud within your own ranks…" She tapped a manicured nail against her glass of water. "And of course… about your husband."
Elsa's eyes darkened, but her lips curled into a faint smirk. "Ah. There it is."
"I find power fascinating," Nyra continued softly, leaning back like a cat studying its prey. "And those who walk beside it, even more so."
Elsa's voice dropped, razor-sharp. "You mean those who wield it."
Nyra's expression flickered, just briefly. "Touché."
The room thickened with unspoken tension.
Elsa leaned forward, elbows on the table, fingers steepled. "Tell me, Nyra. Do you always mix business with veiled threats, or am I just special?"
"Oh, you're very special," Nyra purred. "But I don't threaten. I observe. Influence. Suggest. The Eastern Wind Consortium plays the long game. We don't like sudden rises to power. They're… unstable."
Elsa's laugh was cold and elegant. "Then consider this your warning: I'm the storm you can't predict. And Chess—" she paused, letting the name echo in Nyra's ears, "—he's the silence before it."
Nyra's smile faltered—only for a heartbeat, but Elsa caught it.
She stood.
"I'll have my legal team review your proposal. But if you think for a second I don't see through this charming espionage play—send my regards to Kip Mandari."
Nyra's eyes sharpened. "So, you are aware."
Elsa stepped closer, their faces inches apart now. "Let me make something clear. This is my city. My tower. My boardroom. Walk carefully, Miss Alis... or I'll bury your career beneath it."
Then she turned on her heel and walked out, her exit just as composed as her entrance.
Nyra remained behind, her smile now gone—replaced by something colder. Calculating.
So... Elsa was more formidable than the reports suggested.
Kip wouldn't like that.