The noise of the industry summit faded at last. Guests drifted away one by one, and the dazzling chandeliers in the banquet hall dimmed until only a few wall sconces cast a soft glow.
After saying goodbye to Kirsten, Danielle stepped out to the hotel’s front entrance, only to spot Harold waiting at the foot of the steps, as if he’d been expecting her.
“Chief Engineer Crawford,” he called, his tone warm and earnest, “if you’re free, I’d like to take you out for dinner—maybe we could discuss some of the finer points of our collaboration.”
Danielle hesitated, her doubts about Harold still fresh in her mind. She was about to decline, but then reconsidered; perhaps she could coax some useful information from him about the incident with the drugged drink. She nodded.
“All right, but let me pick the place. Somewhere quiet.”
Harold smiled agreeably. “I’ll follow your lead, Chief Engineer Crawford.”
They had just turned to leave when a familiar figure emerged from the shadows nearby.
Alexander stood beneath a streetlamp, dressed head-to-toe in black. The light etched sharp lines across his face, his gaze steady and fixed on Danielle.
“I’ll take you home,” he said, striding forward. His tone left no room for argument, and he didn’t so much as glance at Harold.
Danielle frowned, stepping back to put some distance between them. “That won’t be necessary. I already have plans tonight.”
She put particular emphasis on the word “plans,” hoping he’d take the hint and leave her alone.
Alexander’s eyes shifted to Harold, his gaze darkening, something stormy flickering in their depths.
Harold stepped forward, coming to stand naturally at Danielle’s side. He offered Alexander a polite smile. “Mr. Davidson, you’re still here? Since we’ve all run into each other, why not join us for dinner? I’m sure we could learn a thing or two from your experience in the industry.”
Alexander ignored Harold’s outstretched hand, his eyes never leaving Danielle. His voice was flat, cold. “No, thank you.”
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