Xavier sat in his office, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand. The amber liquid caught the light from the desk lamp, casting golden reflections on the polished mahogany. Outside, rain pattered against the windows, a steady drumming that matched the beat of his growing frustration.
He hated not being in control. He had everything under control until it all started going to s**t. First, Victor was back—the bastard who should have died when Xavier had him shot three times in the chest five years ago. Somehow, he'd survived, and now he was back, reclaiming territory that Xavier had worked so hard to take.
And now this. His only leverage against Victor was slipping away too.
Xavier took a long sip of whiskey, savoring the burn as it slid down his throat. He set the glass down with delibe
