Chapter 4 The SetUp

Stellan POV

The Mercer family dining room was designed to make people feel like they weren't progressing financially.

I sat near the head of the table, swirling a glass of scotch, completely tuning out the sound of my father’s voice.

"The European sponsors are getting restless, Stellan," Conrad said, cutting into

his steak. He didn't look up. He never did when he was giving orders. "They don't like the rumors about your off-track behavior. You have a championship to win this upcoming season. I need you focused. No clubs, no paparazzi, and absolutely no distractions."

"I'm perfectly focused," I replied, taking a slow drink.

It was a lie. I had already made two calls to my private security team this afternoon, telling them to pull the lobby footage from the hotel.

"See that you stay that way," Conrad snapped, dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin. "Your brother is already enough of a PR nightmare for this family. I don't need you dragging the Mercer name through the mud alongside him."

Right on cue, the doors of the dining room swung open. Hayes walked in, loud and entirely too comfortable. I hated him the second I saw him. It was a reflex at this point.

"Sorry we're late," He announced, pulling out a chair halfway down the table. "Traffic downtown was a nightmare."

"You're twenty minutes late, Hayes. Sit down," Conrad said coldly.

"Yeah, yeah. Look, I brought someone." He gestured behind him. "Conrad, Stellan, this is my best friend. Merritt."

A girl stepped out from the shadow of the doorway.

The glass of scotch stopped halfway to my mouth. My grip on the crystal tightened so hard I was surprised it didn't shatter in my hand.

It was her.

She wasn't wearing the emerald silk dress from last night. She almost looked like a completely different person.

But I would recognize those eyes anywhere. I would recognize the exact shape of

her mouth.

My blood ran hot, a sudden, violent rush of adrenaline hitting my system.

Merritt. I finally had a name.

She stepped fully into the light of the chandelier, offering a polite, nervous

smile toward my father. Then, her gaze shifted down the table and landed on me.

I watched the exact second her brain processed my face.

All the color drained from her cheeks. Her lips parted in a silent gasp, and her eyes widened in absolute, unfiltered panic. She froze, her hand gripping the back of the dining chair so hard her knuckles turned white.

Hayes didn't notice a thing. He was already sitting down, reaching for a bread roll.

I didn't say a word. I just looked at her, letting her realize exactly how trapped she was.

"Merritt," Conrad said, his tone slightly less hostile than the one he used on his sons. "Hayes has mentioned you. You went to college together, correct?"

"Y-yes, sir," she stammered. Her voice was shaking. She forced herself to look away from me and focus on Conrad. "We met freshman year."

"Sit down, please," Conrad ordered.

She pulled out the chair directly across from me. It was the worst possible seat

she could have chosen. Now, there was nothing blocking my view of her.

"This is my stepbrother, Stellan," Hayes said through a mouthful of food, gesturing vaguely in my direction with his fork. "He drives cars in circles for a living."

Ignoring him completely, I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table, and locked my eyes on Merritt.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Merritt," I said. My voice was smooth, perfectly polite, but I kept my gaze heavy and dark. "Hayes talks about you all the time."

She swallowed hard. "Nice to meet you too."

"Are you sure we haven't met before?" I asked, tilting my head slightly. "You look incredibly familiar."

Under the table, I saw her knees press tightly together. "I don't think so. I don't really follow Formula 1."

"Shame," I murmured, picking up my knife. "You're missing out on a lot of fast-paced action."

Hayes snorted. "She doesn't care about your cars, Stellan. She actually has a real job. She's an architect."

I paused, the knife hovering over my plate. I looked at her, genuinely surprised. "An architect?"

"Junior architect," she corrected quickly, her voice tight. She was staring at her empty plate, refusing to meet my eyes again. "I work at Valerie Thorne's firm downtown."

"Thorne's firm is highly respected," Conrad noted, taking a sip of his wine. "They handle a lot of commercial real estate. It's a demanding field. How do you find the time to babysit Hayes?"

"Hey," Hayes protested, though he was grinning. "She doesn't babysit me. She just keeps me out of jail."

"Someone has to," she replied softly. It was meant to be a joke, but I heard the exhaustion underneath it.

For the next hour, I barely touched my food. I just watched her.

The contrast between the woman sitting across from me and the woman in my hotel room was staggering. Last night, she had been all fire and reckless energy. She had pulled me down by my jacket and kissed me like the world was ending.

Tonight, she was a ghost. She barely spoke unless spoken to. She let Hayes interrupt her constantly. When the waiter poured her a glass of wine, she only

took tiny, nervous sips.

It pissed me off.

Hayes didn't even look at her. He spent the entire dinner arguing with Conrad about his hockey contract, complaining about his coach, and bragging about his stats.

He had no idea what she tasted like. Or even the slightest idea the kind of sounds she made when the lights were off.

The thought sent a sharp, possessive spike of jealousy straight through my chest.

Merritt picked up her fork, her hand trembling slightly so I stretched my legs out under the table, my shoe brushed against her calf.

She flinched violently, her fork clattering against the china plate.

"You okay, Mer?" He asked, finally glancing at her.

"Fine," she choked out, her face burning red. "Just dropped my fork."

She didn't pull away. She just sat there, completely rigid, breathing shallowly.

"So, Merritt," I said, cutting through Hayes's rambling story about a hockey fight. "Valerie Thorne's firm. Do you handle residential projects, or just commercial?"

She looked up at me, her eyes wide and trapped. "We... we do both. High-end

residential mostly."

"Interesting." I took a slow sip of my scotch, never breaking eye contact. "I just bought a penthouse in the financial district. It's completely bare. Needs a full redesign from the ground up. I've been looking for the right architect."

Hayes frowned, looking between us. "You're staying in the city? I thought you were leaving for Monaco next week."

"Plans change," I said smoothly.

I watched Merritt's throat work as she swallowed. She knew exactly what I was doing.

"I'm sure Valerie would be happy to take your call," Merritt said, her voice barely a whisper.

"I'm sure she would," I agreed. I let a slow, dark smile touch my lips. "I'll be

in touch."

The dinner dragged on for another agonizing twenty minutes before Conrad finally

dismissed us. Hayes stood up immediately, looking relieved, and headed for the door without waiting for her.

Merritt stood up slowly, her hands shaking as she grabbed her purse. She didn't look at me as she turned to follow Hayes out of the room.

I watched her walk away, the doors closing behind her.

I picked up my phone from the table and dialed my wealth manager. He answered on the first ring.

"Find the contact information for Valerie Thorne's architecture firm," I ordered, staring at the empty chair across from me. "Set up a meeting for tomorrow morning. Tell her I have a blank check, but I have one non-negotiable

conditi on."

I hung up the phone.

Hayes thought she belonged to him just because she stood in his shadow. He was

about to find out exactly how wrong he was.