Taming Mr. Impossible

Victoria Marshall had learned a long time ago that storms were rarely the thing you needed to worry about. People were.

By her mid-thirties, Victoria had perfected the art of looking completely at ease.

She stretched out on a sun lounge beneath a white linen umbrella, one ankle crossed over the other. She wore a cream silk dress, an understated gold watch, and an immaculate manicure. Her dark hair was swept neatly away from her face.

She glanced toward the darkening sky beyond the country club terrace and took another sip of champagne.

The clouds had been gathering for the last hour, heavy and blue-gray over the manicured gardens. The weather service had issued a warning. The club staff had quietly started moving cushions indoors.

Nobody at the birthday brunch seemed concerned.

They were too busy gossiping.

“Did you see what happened to Helix Dynamics?” the woman across the table asked, her sunglasses too big and too unnecessary. “Fifteen million gone because someone backed the wrong genius.”

“Please,” another woman said. “Half of this table has funded worse.”

“Only if the founder was attractive,” a third one said, nibbling on the cake.

Laughter moved around the table.

Victoria smiled because it was expected of her. She wasn’t listening anymore.

Her phone was beside her champagne glass, screen down.

She could still feel the weight of the email she’d received that morning without opening it again:

NOVACORE — POST-INVESTMENT REVIEW

She’d already read it three times. The numbers hadn’t changed. Forty million dollars had gone into a company she had believed in. The company had failed.

And now half the board believed the failure proved something far more convenient than bad luck — that Victoria Marshall wasn’t competent enough.

She hated that phrase: competent enough.

As though she’d spent the last ten years preparing for a position she had somehow wandered into by accident. As though she hadn’t earned every promotion.

Every deal. Every sleepless night. Every room where someone had looked at her surname before looking at her.

Marshall.

That name had opened doors. She knew that. It had also made people very eager to see her fail once she walked through them.

“Speaking of attractive…”

Victoria looked up.

One of the women was holding up her phone.

“Europe’s most eligible bachelors.”

“Oh, no,” another one groaned.

“Wait. You have to see this.”

Victoria barely glanced at the screen. A photograph of an empty-looking city street. Then another headline: EUROPE’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR: THE BILLIONAIRE NOBODY HAS EVER SEEN.

“Number one is that ghost tech founder!” her colleague said excitedly.

“Who?” a couple of the other women asked, suddenly eager to see the man they might marry.

“Leon Thorn.”

Victoria’s attention sharpened. Not because of the photograph. There barely was one. That was the point.

No interviews. No public appearances. No photographs anyone could verify. A name that appeared in business magazines attached to a company that seemed to grow faster every year while its founder remained almost completely invisible.

“Seriously?” someone asked. “No interviews? No photos? Nobody’s ever seen him?”

“For all we know, he’s eighty.”

“Or hideous.”

More laughter.

“Good.” Victoria reached for her phone.

The women looked at her.

“I invest in companies, not faces.” She lifted her champagne as if toasting the sentiment.

That earned another round of laughter.

But Victoria was already thinking about ThornTech. The company wasn’t funny. It was exactly the kind of investment Marshall Capital needed. And exactly the kind of opportunity Feldman would use against her if he got there first.

She looked across the terrace.

Evelyn stood near the restaurant doors.

Waiting.

She was elegant without trying to be. Silver threaded through her dark hair, and her navy linen suit was understated, expensive, and perfectly cut. She carried herself with the quiet authority of someone accustomed to being listened to.

She was also one of the few people Victoria couldn’t charm.

Victoria’s stomach tightened.

So much for pretending this was a birthday brunch.

She put down her glass and stood.

“Excuse me.”

Victoria walked across the swimming pool terrace, directly to Evelyn.

“A word.” Evelyn nodded.

They stepped inside. The noise of the terrace faded behind them. Victoria slid the glass door shut. Past the tables that were set up for the next part of the celebratory event.

Evelyn didn’t speak until they were far enough away that no one could overhear. She was always like that. Calm. Measured. Never wasting a word.

“What happened?” Victoria folded her arms.

“After NovaCore, half the board wants your authority stripped.” Evelyn looked at her.

Victoria’s jaw tightened. She had known. Hearing it aloud was different.

“I know.” Victoria looked away.

“I bought you time.” Evelyn softened. “For Charles’ sake.”

There it was. She hated that part. Not Evelyn. Not even Charles. The reminder that no matter what she accomplished, there was always someone ready to explain it with one sentence.

She’s Charles Marshall’s niece.

Victoria looked through the glass doors toward the terrace.

“I don’t need you to save me.”

“I didn’t say you did. The board moved the meeting.”

“When?” Victoria looked back at her.

“Tomorrow. Nine o’clock.”

For a moment, Victoria simply stared.

“No. That’s impossible.” Victoria exhaled slowly.

She had expected another week. Maybe two. Enough time to rebuild the argument around NovaCore. Enough time to make the board understand that one failed investment didn’t erase years of performance.

But tomorrow meant she didn’t have time to defend the past. She needed to deliver an undeniable case for why ThornTech belonged in Marshall Capital’s portfolio.

“Feldman convinced them he has something stronger.” Evelyn lowered her voice.

“He doesn’t.”

“Then prove it. If you want to make that meeting, you need to leave now.” Evelyn stepped closer.

“You’re not coming?” Victoria looked at her.

“I’ll dial in.” She looked Victoria in the eyes. “This is your shot.”

Victoria swallowed.

“Don’t make me regret this,” Evelyn said.

The words should have sounded like a threat. Instead, they sounded almost like a warning from someone who genuinely wanted her to succeed.

Victoria glanced outside.

The first drops of rain struck the glass. A distant roll of thunder followed.

Then the club’s announcement system came alive:

“Attention. Due to severe weather conditions, we advise against travel until further notice.”

Of course. Victoria almost laughed. She reached for her handbag.

Evelyn’s eyebrows lifted.

“Victoria—”

“I’ll be fine.”

She walked away before Evelyn could argue.

By the time Victoria was driving through the storm, the sky had gone completely dark. The rain had swallowed the road.

The windshield wipers were working overtime at their fastest setting and still seemed to lose the fight.

Lightning flashed somewhere ahead.

Victoria tightened both hands around the steering wheel. She had driven through worse. Probably. Or perhaps, that was what she wanted to believe.

The phone was connected to the car, and a woman’s voice came through the speakers.

Her assistant, Maya. She’d worked with Victoria for years, but somewhere along the way she’d become something else too—a safe place. Someone Victoria didn’t have to perform for.

“You should have stayed the night.”

“And give Feldman a head start?” Victoria protested.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“This obsession with a founder no one has ever met…” Maya sighed.

“Not a man.” Victoria smiled faintly. “A company.”

“You’ve been saying that for weeks,” Maya noted.

“But it’s still true.”

“But it’s also pouring rain.”

“Oh, really? You don’t say.” Victoria laughed.

“Victoria.”

“What?” Victoria glanced at the dashboard. “We both know I can’t miss the board meeting tomorrow morning. We have been working on it far too long. So it is either this, or I can say goodbye to my father’s firm. And you know I can’t do that. It’s his legacy.”

“Oh, darling. You’re driving through a storm for a meeting with a bunch of corporate snobs, to argue that you can find a man who doesn’t want to be found.” Maya knew her too well.

Victoria almost smiled. She looked through the windshield. The road ahead was increasingly difficult to see.

“Tell me Feldman is bluffing. He hasn’t found him, has he?”

“Not yet.”

“We’re running out of time.” Victoria straightened.

“I know. I am on it.”

Lightning exploded across the sky.

The GPS flickered. Then the screen went black.

“What was that?”

“The storm.” Victoria frowned.

The engine gave a small shudder.

Victoria looked down.

“Maya…”

“Yeah?”

The engine coughed. Once. Twice. Then died. The car rolled forward another few feet before coming to a stop.

Victoria stared through the windshield.

Rain hammered the roof.

She tried the ignition. And again. Nothing.

“Maya, I think we have a problem.”

“No—oh. Is—”

“Don’t.” She sighed.

“Is your car—” The line glitched. “—broken down?” The call dropped.

“Perfect.” Victoria closed her eyes. For one second. Then opened them.

She reached for the phone. One percent battery. No signal. Victoria stared at the screen.

“No.”

The phone died.

She sat in silence.

It was pitch-black. The storm raged around her.

For the first time that evening, Victoria had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Then lightning flashed. Something appeared through the rain.

A villa. Large. Old. Almost completely dark. A single warm light glowed somewhere inside.

Victoria stared at it. She looked at the road behind her. Then at the villa. She had no choice. She grabbed her handbag, opened the door, and stepped into the storm.

By the time she reached the villa, her shoes were ruined. Her hair was plastered against her face. Her coat was soaked through.

Victoria climbed a few stone steps and stared at the large wooden door. It was the kind of door designed to make visitors feel small.

She knocked. Nothing. She knocked again. Harder. Still nothing.

“Come on.” She knocked a third time.

Somewhere inside, she heard movement. Then a heavy lock shifted.

Victoria straightened.

The door began to open.