Diego burst into the club's private lounge, his face was darkened with fury. The heavy velvet curtain swished closed behind him, muffling the distant throb of the music.
Ryan, who had been nursing a drink by the deep leather sofa, sprang to his feet, his own composure visibly fraying.
"Why did you drag me here with such a frantic call?" he demanded. "And what in God's name was that spectacle Sara made? I watched her dismantle the entire party, Diego. You were supposed to be coronated the heir tonight! I thought the path was clear. I bet you never anticipated this move. And for them to actually use the fucking part of that report. I didn't think they had the guts."
Diego didn't reply immediately. He crossed the room in three strides, grabbed a crystal tumbler of liquor from the nearest side table, and chugged its contents in one desperate, burning gulp. He slammed the glass down, the sharp clink echoing in the sudden silence, and ran a shaking hand through his styled hair.
