Caspar’s POV:
74
The crisp London air hit my face as I stepped off the private jet at Heathrow.
I caught my reflection in the polished brass revolving doors–impeccable black suit, precisely knotted tie, expression carefully calibrated to reveal nothing.
“Welcome to London, Mr. Thornton,” the ground crew supervisor said with practiced deference.
I nodded curtly, feeling several pairs of eyes following me across the private terminal. Power draws eyes. It’s inevitable.
“James,” I turned to my assistant, who had followed me off the plane, “you don’t need to accompany me to meet Ethan Cole. Take the evening. I’ll call when I need you.”
While Thornton represents old–money East Coast finance, the Coles are West Coast tech royalty.
Ethan and I met at Harvard Business School. One of my few actual friends in a world where most relationships are merely strategic
transactions.
He nodded. “Of course, Mr. Thornton. I’ll be available when you call.”
When we arrived at The Ritz, James efficiently handled check–in.
Once in the suite, I removed my jacket and immediately sent a message to Ethan.
Landed in. Did you make it back to London yet?
We’d spoken last night when he mentioned he was on a business trip, but he’d assured me he could return to London in time for our
meeting.
I barely had time to loosen my tie when my phone vibrated with Ethan’s response:
CAS, FLIGHT DELAYED. STUCK IN SF FOR ANOTHER 3 HRS. WON’T MAKE IT BACK IN TIME. MY SISTER DAISY IS IN LONDON AND CAN
JOIN YOU FOR DINNER INSTEAD. SHE’LL CONTACT YOU, SORRY MAN.
I drummed my fingers on the polished desk.
Daisy Cole. The Cole family’s golden child, adored and pampered amid a sea of Cole brothers and male cousins.
As the only daughter in a family overflowing with testosterone, she’s been showered with attention since childhood.
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18:32 Wed, Jan 28 M…
Chapter 64
No need. We can reschedule.
Ethan’s response was immediate:
TOO LATE. ALREADY TOLD HER YOUR NUMBER. SHE’S EXCITED TO MEET THE FAMOUS KING C.
Before I could respond, another text came through from an unknown number:
Hi, Caspar, this is Daisy Cole. Ethan said you just landed? See you in the restaurant in two hours.
I stared at the screen, jaw tightening. Not even the pretense of giving me an option. I glanced up to see James about to leave.
“James, change of plans. I’ll need you to join me for dinner tonight.”
He paused at the door, eyebrows rising slightly. “Sir? I thought you wanted me to take the evening off.”
“That was before I knew I’d be having dinner with Daisy Cole.” I set my phone down with more force than necessary. “Ethan’s been
delayed.”
A flicker of understanding crossed James‘ face. He tried to maintain his professional demeanor, but the corner of his mouth twitched
upward.
“Would you like me to arrange for a gift, sir?”
I considered the question, my mind drifting to what Ethan had confided in me during a rare moment of vulnerability.
It had been after a particularly tense acquisition meeting, just the two of us in my London penthouse, Macallan flowing too freely.
I remembered how Ethan’s eyes had grown unfocused that night, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“She’s not really my sister–not biologically,” he’d slurred, staring into his glass. “Almost nobody knows… not even Daisy herself.
He’d never fully explained, but through disconnected fragments that night, I’d pieced together a tragic story:
A childhood accident, Ethan’s mistake, his biological sister lost. Then his father’s calculated solution–find a replacement.
Ever since, Ethan had channeled every ounce of brotherly devotion into Daisy’s life.
“Sir? James prompted, bringing me back to the present.
I blinked, pulling myself from those uncomfortable memories.
“Yes. A gift would be appropriate for a first meeting. Nothing extravagant, but respectable. ”
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Chapter 64
“Understood, sir. Thoughtful but measured.”
“Exactly.” I moved toward the bedroom to change.
“Make sure the restaurant gives us a table in the main dining room. Nothing private or secluded.”
“Of course, sir. I’ll handle everything.”
Just as I finished changing, my phone chimed with a message from Dorothy. Curious, I opened it.
She’d sent a photo of what appeared to be a marriage certificate, with the caption: Found something interesting. Call me when you land. It’s
about your wife.
I typed a quick response: Will discuss when I return.
I set the phone down with a sigh.
Whatever Dorothy had discovered–financial impropriety, hidden assets, another of Sienna’s secret liaisons–it could wait until the divorce
papers were signed.
I opened my messages to Sienna Bailey and typed quickly:
This is Caspar Thornton. I’m returning to New York on Monday morning. Be at Whitman & Associates at 10 AM to sign divorce papers.
Her response came quickly:
I am busy on Monday. Can we reschedule for Wednesday?
I felt a surge of irritation.
No. Monday at 10 AM. My lawyer has already prepared the documents.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, then reappeared.
Fine. But don’t you dare be late, you arrogant prick.
I could practically feel her anger radiating through the phone, but I just turned off the screen and ignored it.
“Mr. Thornton, your car is ready whenever you wish to depart.”
I stood, straightening my jacket and walking toward the exit.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
