His Ruthless Possession

Liora's espresso sloshed over the marble breakfast bar. "Liability? Did your hedge fund manager slip you bad mushrooms?"

Ethan's Brioni trousers stretched taut as he braced against the Sub-Zero's brushed steel. "Where's the Valkyrie who bet against my Porsche at Laguna Seca?" His Rolex GMT's bezel clicked ominously.

"Fine!" She extended her pinky like a Wall Street rookie offering collateral. "Take your damn blood price."

The penthouse's circadian lighting shifted as he leaned in. "If I wanted digits..." His breath fogged the Miele's touchscreen where last quarter's earnings report glowed. "...I'd audit your Caymans account."

Liora's tactical retreat activated the smart floor's motion sensors, bathing Ethan's Warhol-inspired neck art in forensic UV. "That's...contamination of evidence!"

"Exhibit A." His Breitling projected holograms of Liora negotiating linen thread counts with the concierge. "Saks Fifth Avenue wants their decorator back."

"Alternative facts!" She lobbed a gluten-free muffin at the hologram.

"Brunch with the Senator." Ethan caught the pastry mid-air. "Or I forward these to Bloomberg."

The Miele's espresso module chose that moment to detonate. "You'd face my AR-15-toting, MIT-bound father?" Liora hissed through coffee-scented smoke. "After the Hamptons hedge fund debacle?"