The foundation for the collapse of a certain strip club in Bayview was laid by the time Dylan dismissed the last of the professional team working on the case. Several clients (now turned suspects) were identified from the local surveillance videos, each of whom was going to have officers hunting them until an arrest was made, or for life-if they were any clever. The anonymous tip received by the nearest precinct was thorough and authentic enough to send the authorities hankering for an overnight warrant.

Dylan had been exceptionally meticulous when it had come to organising details on the owner of the club. The man's criminal history was ransacked, his connections made apparent, and the souls of every felony that he had buried in his past were forced to rise from their graves and trapped between paper and ink.

The information that he had gathered within the initial hour of his workathon had been enough to send the made man to a lifetime anti-vacation in a prison cell, but that hadn't been the goal. It was to eradicate another crime hub the organised families considered as business. The intent was to scourge another crack in the bulletproof shield that the Castillanos had forged around them. It was to debilitate the shield enough that when he finally smashed it with a sledgehammer not only would it shatter with the first impact, but also send flying pellets of broken glass to gash their bodies in the most fatal way imaginable.

There was plenty of digital evidence against the people affiliated with the strip club-courtesy of their diligence as a mobster. It was the arrangement of the slight push needed for the cops to seize the business that had devoured a major portion of his day.

"Get back to me with the details after the takedown," Dylan said as the last member of the team reached the door to his office. Though the cops were going to make the raid public and every news station and newspaper was going to cover the story, he would need the inside details of the process.

"Yes, Mr VanAssche," the man nodded.

As the door opened and closed, leaving his office to himself for the first time since he had walked in at around three in the morning, Dylan leaned back in his chair and took hold of the company files that needed his attention. He could feel the exhaustion caused by the insomnia of the night and the relentless working of the day starting to take a toll on him. But any kind of rest would have to wait. He was accustomed to working for more hours than considered average for the smooth running of his company. In fact, he relished the progress and improvements he made with those extra hours. But it was days like these that made him wish for the quiet that was inconceivable in his line of business.

Dylan kept the files and the summarised notes of the morning meetings delegated to Markus that were sent to him for review aside. He could always look through them at the end of the day. The day's pending schedule that needed his attendance was more important.

"The whole day is booked. I'm sorry but I can't squeeze in an appointment," he heard his assistant say as soon as he pulled the office door open. Dylan sighed. Requests for appointments with him were endless, but Elyse knew how to filter them and allow only the substantial ones to pass through to him. It would be taken care of.

"Just change his schedule, Elyse. He'll never find out."

Dylan stopped halfway through the door. Any amount of surprise that he had felt at the audacity of the suggestion was neutralised by the familiarity of the voice that had delivered it. He tilted his head to the side, suddenly interested in the conversation now.

"That will get me fired, Nadia." His assistant appeared justifiably horrified by the idea.

"It won't if he doesn't know about it," Nadia reasoned with a persuasive smile.

"I can't do that."

"Just ten minutes."

"No."

"Please? I got you a free protein bar." Dylan frowned.

"What? No."

"Oh, come on, Elyse. I'm not asking for an hour-long meeting. How can Mr VanAssche not have ten spare minutes in his schedule?"

Elyse opened her mouth to answer but stopped the moment she noticed him walking through the door. Dylan was in no mood to humour himself. He knew the wise thing would be to check his schedule and dash ahead to the next appointment. And yet when he stopped by the assistant's desk, he found himself saying the next sentence.

"Mr VanAssche is a very busy man, Hayden."

He saw the momentary surprise in her eyes as she took in his presence before the expected frown settled in. She cast a glance to his office door, then turned to Elyse. "You said he wasn't in there," Nadia accused, offended for being lied to.

The irony, Dylan thought.

His assistant was visibly nervous about her colleague's lack of concern for her boss' presence. Dylan extended his hand for the tablet containing his daily schedule to Elyse while maintaining his gaze on the girl who had decided to show up at his office door after months of avoiding him.

"You're corrupting my employees now, Hayden?" He eyed the protein bar she had tried to bribe his assistant with.

Nadia grabbed the bar, passed a glare to Elyse, and stuffed it back in her pockets. "I was only asking for an appointment."

"What do you need it for?" He asked as he scrolled through the planner, saving every subsequent meeting in his memory.

"You said to come to you for more details."

"That was after you've read all the folders."

"I did."

Dylan tilted away the screen of the tablet when he found her on her tiptoes, trying to get a peek at it. He raised his eyes to her face and held her gaze. "All of it?" he asked.

Nadia nodded. "Yes, of course."

The folders about the Wallaces that he had assigned her the previous day were considerably large with an enormous amount of technical details about all the previous projects their companies had collaborated on. Any normal person would require at least a couple of days to study and understand the particulars. He watched her face, hunting for any indication of it being a lie. He saw none.

What he saw was sheer exhaustion in her eyes. Dylan had noted the lack of usual heels on her feet the instant he had taken in her appearance near the office door, but it was only now that he was up close did he see the fatigue on her face caused by the lack of sleep.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one overworking the night.

Furthermore, no amount of tiredness could take away her instinctive urge to respond to his stare with a fierce, narrowed-eyed glare.

Dylan returned the tablet to his assistant. "Let Mark know I'll handle the rest of my meetings."

"But Mr Vaughn is already-"

"Just do what you're told to, Elyse." His voice was as calm as always. He had never needed to alter it to get his words across anyway.

The assistant nodded. Dylan then turned to Nadia, "come along."

"To where?" she asked as he turned to head to the private elevators. He didn't reply. Responding to her questions was an incentive to be open to bickering. "To where?" she called after him again.

Only when he pushed the button to his elevator did he feel her catch up to him. "Just set up an appointment for me."

"I did."

"When?"

"Now."

"When is it?"

"When is what?"

"The appointment!"

"Now, Hayden."

"But you're leaving." Nadia threw her hand towards the elevator doors opening.

"And you're leaving with me," Dylan said, stepping in.

"To where?" She stressed the question, vexed for being forced to repeat it the third time.

"To have lunch," he stated, casually.

As expected, she didn't follow him inside. Nadia stayed at her spot, her eyes fixed on his face. Dylan pushed the open door button on the elevator and stepped back, shoving his hands in his pants. This was going to take a while.

The wheels of suspicion turning in her head could be seen by a myopic man from afar. Every muscle in her face eloquently reflected her thoughts. He had never met anyone as expressive as the girl standing before him, trying to mask her horror at being suggested seemingly the most scandalising arrangement of words there ever existed.

To his own amazement, Dylan didn't find even the slightest hue of resentment obscuring her process of reaching a judgement.

"Why would-" Nadia cleared her throat as her voice came out several pitches higher than normal. "Why would I have lunch with you?"

"Me ordering you to is not enough, Hayden?" he offered in the most nonchalant way possible.

"No." she shook her head. "It's unprofessional," Nadia chastised.

He frowned. "I don't see why you joining me for a business lunch with Cathy for your new project should be considered unprofessional," Dylan replied with utter innocence.

The bewilderment on her face soon turned into realisation. Her eyes widened a little, her eyebrows shot up, and Dylan didn't miss the shade of red rising to the top of her ears.

"It should not," she shook her head, instructing him just as much as she was convincing herself of the same. "Not at all."

Dylan fought a smile as she joined him inside the elevator. He doubted his companion would appreciate the humour.

"So they accepted your conditions for the deal?" Nadia asked conversationally as he pushed the button to the ground floor.

"Not much of a choice there, was it?"

Her reflection in the gold elevator wall rolled her eyes at him. He smirked.

"Are you not going to quiz me about those Wallace folders?" She turned to him, curiosity swimming in the blue of her irises.

"Why would I?" Dylan asked as the doors opened. Zeke was at his regular post near the entrance when he caught sight of them. With a little movement of his head, he signalled the guard to fetch his ride from the parking.

"I could be lying," she shrugged.

Dylan chuckled, drawing the attention of several astonished faces passing by. The number of times he had caught her lying to his face would send several diplomats in his acquaintance to shame. Though it hardly mattered since her face gave it away before she would decide to utter the words. Yet, the one time she had been nothing but blatantly honest, she wanted him to doubt her credibility.

"Trust me, Hayden," he said with a little smile playing on his lips. "When you're lying, I know it."

"I never knew you could read minds, Mr VanAssche."

"Yours, Hayden," Dylan said, recalling her growing annoyance every time he had gotten the door for her the previous day, and walked ahead to open the rear door of the car that his chauffeur had driven to the entrance, "barely requires an effort."

She shot him a look before ducking inside and scooting to the far end of the seat.

The unconscious smile on Dylan's face dropped abruptly as he turned to Zeke. "How's it looking for Sierra?"

Zeke glanced at Nadia sitting inside the car and lowered his voice. "The team was instructed adequately and dispatched in the morning. They will blend with the normal crowd until Jones ends his meeting, after which Sierra will bring him in, along with the information about the people he is involved with. We will be informed as soon as they board the plane. That's when we'll be able to establish any contact."

"Bring them safely to the facility," Dylan instructed.

"Yes, Mr VanAssche."

"And keep an eye on Bayview."

"Any problems there?"

"Hardly. The cops will never be able to trace back the tip to us, but they will have their doubts for sure. Sustain the ambiguity."

The guard nodded. With that, Dylan slipped inside the car, while Zeke walked around to the SUV waiting behind, joining the security team to follow.