"The targeting metrics seem ambitious," he said, interrupting her flow for the third time. "Especially for a campaign of this scale."
Savannah didn't flinch, didn't turn to me for support. Instead, she smiled—that particular smile I'd come to recognize as dangerous.
"They're not ambitious, Mr. Reynolds. They're data-driven.
"She clicked to a slide he'd clearly overlooked in the materials. "As outlined in section four, we've already achieved these metrics in the test market phase. The full rollout scales what we've already proven works."
Reynolds's mouth tightened, but he had nowhere to retreat. The data was irrefutable, her preparation impeccable.
Pride surged through me again—not the possessive satisfaction of a man whose partner had performed well, but the genuine admiration of a businessman recognizing excellence.
When the presentation concluded, after the board had offered their unanimous approval of the campaign, I allowed myself a single nod in her direction.
Professional. Appropriate. Revealing nothing of the desire to pull her into my arms, to claim her mouth with mine, to show everyone exactly what she meant to me.
Later, I told myself. In private, I could show her.
Here, I would honor our agreement.
The remainder of the day passed in a blur of meetings and decisions, my focus fragmented by the knowledge that Savannah was somewhere in the building, navigating her own professional landscape. I wanted to check on her, to ensure Reynolds hadn't continued his petty power plays after the board dispersed.
Wanted to know if other executives were maintaining appropriate boundaries now that our relationship was public.
Instead, I forced myself to focus on the Japanese investment proposal, the Seattle development issues, and the quarterly projections that required my attention. The discipline that had built my empire hadn't abandoned me entirely, despite the seismic shifts in my personal life.
By six, I'd cleared my essential tasks and found myself standing at my office window, watching the city shift from day to evening. The familiar view had once represented everything I valued—achievement, control, and empire-building from this privileged vantage point. Now it seemed incomplete without Savannah beside me, her perspective broadening mine in ways I was only beginning to understand.
My phone vibrated with a text from her:
Finished for the day. Meeting Zoe for dinner. See you at home later?
Home.
Such a simple word that had never held meaning beyond physical location until she'd filled my penthouse with color and chaos and life. I typed back:
I'll be waiting.
Then, acting on impulse rather than careful calculation, I added:
I was proud of you today. You were magnificent.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, and reappeared. Finally,
Even when I shut down Reynolds?
Especially then,
I replied, smiling at the phone like a teenager rather than a forty-seven-year-old CEO.
He needed the reminder that your position was earned, not granted.
Another pause, then:
I love you. See you tonight.
Three words that had once seemed foreign on my tongue, now as essential as breathing.
I love you too.
