That they had, in fact, been converging for weeks, in offices he would never see, toward this exact collision.

Chapter 8 — The Investment Committee

Julian crouched, and handed Emma her tiny silver shoes, and said, conversationally, the sentence that finished dismantling whatever composure Marcus had left.

“Your mother sits on our investment committee.”

Marcus’s head came up.

“What?”

I set Emma down so she could work on her shoes.

“For acquisitions involving regulated financial businesses,” I said.