I set the phone on the desk and leaned back, exhaling slowly.

“He’s going to try to corner you,” Julian said, walking over to the window.

“He’s desperate enough to pay twelve million dollars for a waiver,” I said. “He must be completely out of options.”

“Serena has him cornered in London,” Julian said, looking out at the gray Chicago skyline. “But Adrian is still dangerous when he’s trapped.”

“I have Margaret Hale and the foundation behind me,” I said. “He can’t touch the designs without my signature.”

“He might not try to touch them legally,” Julian said, turning to face me. “He has friends in Chicago who would love to see this project fail.”

“Like who?” I asked.

“Thomas Sterling,” Julian said. “He lost the bidding war for the waterfront development. He’s been looking for a way back in.”

“Sterling is a legitimate developer,” I said.

“Sterling is a predator,” Julian corrected gently. “Keep your eyes open tomorrow night.”

The next evening, the Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel was filled with the scent of lilies and expensive perfume.