Deal With The Devilish Wall Street Tycoon

Ami Cleveland stood outside the sixty-story glass tower of the Kidd Group in lower Manhattan. She took a deep breath of the freezing air, trying to calm her racing heart.

She pushed open the heavy glass doors. The interior of the building was minimalist and cold, filled with sharp angles and gray steel. The atmosphere pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

She walked straight to the front desk. She tried to keep her voice steady as she asked to see Jerad Kidd. The receptionist didn't even look up from her screen, coldly rejecting her because she had no appointment.

Ami backed away, her hands trembling. She moved to the waiting area on the side and pulled out her phone. Her screen was filled with urgent, desperate text messages from her mother.

She looked up and noticed a private elevator on the right side of the lobby. Two massive security guards stood perfectly still in front of it.

Just then, a small cart delivering floral arrangements rolled past her. The delivery man bumped the corner of a table, and a thick file folder slipped off his cart onto the floor.

Ami didn't think. She acted. She quickly bent down and picked up the file. She straightened her spine, pretending to be the delivery man's supervisor, and walked fast, following right behind the cart toward the private elevator.

As she got close, one of the security guards stepped forward and held out a massive hand, blocking her path. He demanded to see a high-level access pass.

Ami raised her chin. She forced her voice to be loud and authoritative.

"This is an urgent legal document regarding an SEC investigation," she lied, her heart hammering against her ribs. "If this is delayed, you will be held personally responsible."

The guard hesitated for a split second. In that exact moment, the light above the private elevator lit up. A soft "ding" echoed in the quiet space.

The solid steel doors slowly slid open. Frank Baxter, the executive assistant she had briefly seen at the hotel, stepped out first.

Frank saw Ami. His eyebrows pulled together in a tight frown. He immediately stepped forward, using his body to block her path.

Ami didn't care. She pushed past Frank's arm, her eyes locking onto the inside of the elevator.

Jerad Kidd stood in the center of the steel box. He wore a dark, custom-tailored suit. He had one hand casually tucked into his pocket. His eyes looked at her like she was an inanimate object, completely devoid of warmth.

Ami's breath hitched. Her chest tightened painfully. She recognized that cold, flawless face from countless financial news segments.

She ignored the security guards rushing toward her. She lunged at the elevator and grabbed the thick metal doors with both hands just as they started to close.

The sensors caught her movement. The doors bounced back open. A flash of extreme, dangerous darkness crossed Jerad's eyes.

Ami ignored the stinging pain in her palms from the heavy doors. She spoke fast, the words tumbling out of her mouth.

"Mr. Kidd, I am Ami from Cleveland Industrial. I just need three minutes of your time."

Jerad didn't move a single muscle. He just stood there, looking down at her from his height. His eyes slowly scanned her wrinkled trench coat and her messy hair from last night.

He leaned forward slightly. When he spoke, his voice was low, deep, and meant only for her ears.

"Do the junk bonds of Cleveland Industrial really need to be pitched by a disheveled woman?" he asked, his tone dripping with mockery.

The words hit Ami like a physical slap to the face. The humiliation burned through her veins, striking at the core of the pride she used to hold so high.

Her eyes instantly filled with hot tears. She bit down on her lower lip so hard she tasted copper, forcing herself not to let the tears fall.

"Our core assets are solid," she tried to explain, but her voice shook violently, betraying her extreme humiliation.

Jerad straightened his posture. The absolute coldness returned to his eyes, looking at her as if she were a pathetic clown putting on a bad show.

He didn't say another word to her. He just gave Frank a very slight, almost invisible flick of his fingers.

Frank immediately stepped forward. He grabbed Ami's wrists and forcefully pried her fingers off the edge of the elevator doors.

Jerad reached out and pressed the button to close the doors.

"Throw this crazy woman out," he ordered, his voice flat and merciless.

Ami watched in absolute despair as the steel doors slid shut, cutting off the cold, handsome face of the man who held her family's survival in his hands.

The two security guards grabbed her by the arms. They lifted her off her feet. Under the strange, judging stares of every employee in the lobby, they dragged her roughly toward the front entrance.