Page 95 of Falling for the Enemy

“Ladies.”

The elevator doors opened, and Soren turned. His smile froze as he frowned in confusion. “Warren.” His gaze briefly shifted to Marie.

The imperceptible shake of her head answered the unasked question—Warren wasn’t supposed to be there. An unexpected variable that carried some level of meaning Soren needed to figure out.

He turned back to the older man and quickly covered his surprise. “Great to see you again.”

“Always a pleasure, Soren.” He shook his hand, clasping it in two of his own. “I believe you know my daughter.”

Another surprise. Olivia slipped from the elevator just before the metal doors closed.

“Yes, of course. Olivia, how are you?” He took her hand and brushed a kiss on her cheek.

Her smile was practiced, almost perfect, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Soren.”

“I figured it was a good day to stop by,” Warren said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Soren’s attention had fractured, half tracking the older man’s affability, half locked on Olivia as she shifted to her father’s side.

She held his gaze as her father filled the hall with small talk. She didn’t soften. Didn’t look away. Just met him head-on with the kind of steady regard that dropped like a gauntlet.

This wasn’t a friendly visit. This was a challenge.

“A welcomed change of plans,” Soren said, faking indifference as he tried to decipher what this visit implied.

“Olivia mentioned she’d be in town and offered to act as my proxy,” Warren continued, steering them toward the conference room, his hand never leaving Soren’s shoulder. “When I saw my schedule was open, I figured I’d fly in and join her, see how things are going. It’s a rare occasion when my schedule aligns so flawlessly with my daughter’s.”

He had no doubt Olivia played a role in clearing her schedule to make sure such an alignment happened.

The strategists were already assembled around the table when they entered, three of them from the firm Hawthorne retained. Their eyes flicked up, surprise registering when not only the CEO but Warren Aldrich himself stepped in. They recovered quickly, rising, extending hands, and offering the best chairs at the table.

Olivia took a seat directly across from Soren, where she continued to watch him with that same penetrating expression.

The meeting began in a smooth, well-oiled display of capability that showed these men and women had come prepared. Numbers populated the screen as the presentation began. The strategists jumped right into business, pitching theories and speaking on market opportunities, risk assessment, and projected ROI, only to pause every so often to directly address him and Warren, kissing both their asses with equal measure.

Soren listened, tracked the logistics, and noted where the analysis was solid and where it glossed over complications. Warren did the same. Olivia, however, seemed more interested in studying him.

Her posture remained flawless through her silent observation, and Soren wondered what she was looking for. The dutiful daughter seemed the perfect accessory to her aging father’s power, a beautiful asset distracting enough to give Warren a youthful edge.

Her gaze remained fixed on his face with an intensity that hadn’t been there over wine. No flirtation in those pale blue eyes now. No soft vulnerability to her usually pouty mouth.

When the presentation was finished, Warren leaned back in his leather chair, the material creaking softly beneath his weight. A satisfied smile curved his pale lips.

“This is excellent work,” he said, gesturing at the screen with a weathered hand. “Really excellent.”

One of the strategists nodded eagerly, launching into more benefits of establishing a distribution hub in Warsaw.

Olivia shifted slightly in her chair. The movement barely perceptible, but her father’s eyes flicked to her and held for a moment. Deep approval showed on his face. He liked having her here. Perhaps he even viewed her as a possible protégé.

Maybe that had always been his hope. Olivia had never mentioned such ambitions to Soren personally, but she seemed to take great interest in her father’s pursuits now.

But he was no idiot, and he was not the easy mark her father might be. She was playing both of them, but only one of them realized it was a game.

He’d bet his board seat this wasn’t about her professional ambitions. She was making a play, but not the play her father assumed.

Her act of dutiful daughter might feed Daddy the narrative that she belonged in rooms like this, but this wasn’t a career move she intended to pursue. It was a power play, much bigger than some inherited seat on the board as shipping heiress.

She was showing Soren she understood the game and didn’t like to lose.