Good Morning, Loves!

I apologize for the wait on this one. I wanted to post sooner, but with FFN being so finicky, I was hoping to ride out their tech problems. Alas, it's gone on too long so we must deal.

Thank you so much to Mel!

ACT II

LEGACY

PROLOGUE

He who wishes to be obeyed must know how to command.

— Niccolo Machiavelli

The hour was late when the convoy of sleek black cars pulled into the parking garage. The lead car stopped just beyond the elevators, and three armed men in suits climbed out, their gazes focused solely on the environment around them.

One of them stepped forward as the second car pulled up, opening the back door once it came to a stop. A tall man in an impeccably fitted suit exited, his movements fluid and strong. He stood, buttoning his jacket with a small smile on his handsome face before he turned, offering a hand to the brunette in the car. She was much younger than him and naturally beautiful, though access to wealth and power had given her the chance to enhance her looks. She was near superhuman now as she climbed out of the car. She gave the man a sultry smile, and his eyes fell to the diamond choker around her throat. Satisfied with her appearance, he turned and stalked forward. Guards followed the couple as the man led the way to the elevators.

"Are they here?" he asked, looking at the blond man at his side.

His assistant nodded. "Yes, sir. They're waiting in the conference room."

The man's smile was cold, vicious … predatory.

"We are not to be disturbed," he instructed as the elevator arrived. He and the woman climbed in with the assistant. The guards stayed below, vigilant.

"Yes, sir," the assistant confirmed.

The man turned his attention to his gorgeous young companion and motioned her forward. She stepped toward him, and he turned, his fingers touching the cold jewels at her throat. "You will be silent," he instructed her. "Silent and observant."

Her dark eyes tracked over his face before she nodded, mute. He smiled and leaned forward, grabbing the back of her neck to drag her in for a searing kiss. It wasn't romantic or sweet—it was ownership—and below him, the woman moaned, desperate to be possessed.

The elevator let out a soft chime, and the man released her, taking a deep breath and straightening his suit jacket.

By the time the doors opened again, he was composed, the beauty at his side grinning like a maniac in love.

There were guards on the top floor, and one fell into step with the party as they disembarked from the elevator.

"Someone get me a drink," he ordered. "And a cheeseburger. Hostile takeovers always make me peckish."

He chuckled, his mood too light to be tamped down by the serious air around him.

Ahead of him, two men opened the conference room doors, and he stepped into a glass room that gleamed at the top of a twinkling city. He liked his power plays to happen in Europe, the birthplace of his ancestors, but he'd had to settle for Hong Kong this time. He couldn't deny the vibrancy of the view added to his sparkling mood. The city sprawled out below him, and he took a moment to admire it.

The view from the top of the world. For him, it wasn't high enough.

His eyes moved to sweep the room, and he watched as the couple sitting at the conference table tried to assess him.

"Evening," he said, his tone dripping with arrogance. "Isn't this a lovely night?"

The woman's mouth pulled ever so tighter, and beside her, her husband reached for his drink.

"Oh, come on now," the man said, stopping at the table. "No need to pout. You've fought a good fight, truly, but you've been outmatched."

At the table, the couple remained stoic. Despite the goading, they both refused to speak.

The man sighed and yanked out a chair, settling down into it. Once he was settled, the brunette fluttered into her own chair behind him, not at the table. Beside her, the assistant also sank into a seat, his body tense despite his boss's undeniably good mood.

"Fine, if you're going to be a bad sport about it, we'll get straight to business."

The man at the head of the table sounded petulant, like a child who expected his favorite toy to still work even after he'd abused it.

He reached up, snapping his fingers and pointed toward the ceiling. "There are cameras everywhere," he told them. "So we can record this for posterity." He flashed them a predatory grin. When they didn't show any hint of response, he turned his face toward one of the cameras. He suddenly focused, his eyes narrowing in a look so serious, he seemed like a different man entirely. "This recording marks the beginning of the surrender of power by Carlisle Cullen and Esme Platt." He turned to the couple and smiled. "Let's begin."