Before I could ask what Alexander meant by “making people nervous,” the conference room door opened again and Victoria Calloway emerged, looking like ice sculpted into human form. Her dark hair was pulled into a severe chignon, and her expression suggested she’d just finished delivering an ultimatum that she expected to be obeyed without question.
“Alexander,” her voice could have frozen water, “we’re not finished discussing this matter.”
“Yes, we are.” Alexander’s response was quiet but final. “I’ve heard everything I need to hear.”
“Your father’s position is entirely reasonable. The Virelli association represents unnecessary complications for our media holdings—”
“The Virelli association,” I interrupted, stepping into their line of sight, “is standing right here and can speak for her
