The Hostile Offer

The offer arrived at 6:14 a.m., which told Vivienne everything she needed to know about the man who sent it.

Only someone who wanted to be seen working before dawn would time a hostile bid for the exact moment the markets stirred. She read it twice, set down her coffee, and did not call her lawyers. She called for the car.

Forty-one floors up, Julian Cross was already in the boardroom when she walked in — which was its own kind of message. He rose. She didn't offer her hand.

"You're early," she said.

"You're here," he answered. "I wasn't sure you would be."

Outside the glass, the city was just beginning to catch the light. Inside, the temperature had already dropped.