“Everything you can find. But be discreet about it.”
Nic tilts his head slightly. “May I ask why?”
I run a hand through my hair, a habit from childhood I’ve never quite broken. “He’s obviously an idiot who lost her, and I want to know what I’m up against.”
The words hang in the air between us. I hadn’t meant to be quite so transparent, but there it is—the truth I’ve been avoiding since that night at the bowling alley two weeks ago.
“I see.” Nicole’s voice is neutral, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll have a full report by tomorrow morning."
“Thank you.” I turn to face the window, hoping he doesn’t notice the heat creeping up my neck. “And Nicole? This stays between us."
“Of course, sir.”
The door opens, and my heart rate kicks up a notch before I realize it’s just my second assistant, Emma.
“The board members are starting to arrive,” she announces. “I’ve shown them to the reception area. And Ms. Miller just texted—she’s in the elevator.”
"Thank you, Emma.” I straighten my jacket, running through mental checkpoints. Presentation ready, coffee service arranged, opening remarks prepared. Everything is in order, except for the flutter in my stomach, which has nothing to do with the meeting and everything to do with seeing Betsy again.
I hear her before I see her—the confident click of heels on marble, the musical lilt of her voice as she greets the receptionist. Then she’s there in the doorway, a vision in a tailored charcoal suit that accentuates every curve. Her dark hair is swept up in a sleek chignon, exposing the elegant line of her neck.
“Betsy,” I say, my voice embarrassingly warm even to my own ears. I stride forward, extending my hand. “Perfect timing.”
Her palm meets mine, and the simple contact sends electricity up my arm. “Good morning, Conor. Ready to dazzle the board?”
“They’re the ones who are about to be dazzled.” I hold her gaze a moment longer than strictly professional, then reluctantly release her hand. “Let me help you set up.”
We spend the next ten minutes in companionable silence, arranging her physical models on the side table, checking the digital presentation one last time. I’m hyperaware of her every movement—the way she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the slight furrow ofconcentration between her brows, the scent of her perfume when she leans past me to adjust something on the laptop.
“Nervous?” I ask as the clock ticks closer to meeting time.
She flashes me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “A little. These are your people, not mine."
“They’re going to love you.” I place my hand lightly on her shoulder, feeling the tension there. “Almost as much as I—” I catch myself just in time. “As much as I love your designs.”
Something flickers across her face—surprise? Interest?—before Emma appears at the door.
“The board is ready, Mr. Campbell.”
I nod, then turn back to Betsy. “Remember, you’re the expert here. I believe in you completely.”
The board members file in—two men and three women, all in impeccable business attire, all wearing expressions of polite interest that mask their natural skepticism. I greet each person by name, shaking hands and making small talk. But my focus remains on Betsy, standing tall beside the presentation screen, portfolio clutched perhaps a bit too tightly in her hands.
Once everyone is seated, I take my place at the head of the table. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. Today, I have the pleasure of introducing Betsy Miller, the brilliant architect who’s designing our new headquarters.”
I gesture toward her with an open palm, my pride unmistakable. “Ms. Miller’s vision for Campbell Tower isn’t just about creating a building—it’s about creating a legacy. Her designs incorporate cutting-edge sustainability features while honoring the historical context of the neighborhood. I’ve been working closely with her on thisproject, and I can say without hesitation that her work exceeds every expectation.”
I catch Harriet Winters—our most conservative board member—exchanging a skeptical glance with Walter McCoy. Time to address that directly.
“I know some of you had concerns about going with a smaller firm rather than one of the established names.” I meet Harriet’s gaze directly. “But innovation rarely comes from playing it safe. Ms. Miller’s designs will not only give us a headquarters that reflects our values as a company but will position Campbell Enterprises as a forward-thinking leader in corporate responsibility.”
I sit down, gesturing for Betsy to take the floor. “Ms. Miller, the floor is yours.”
She steps forward, and I watch the transformation with admiration. The slight nervousness melts away as she clicks to the first slide—a stunning rendering of the proposed tower, gleaming in the Manhattan skyline.
“Thank you, Mr. Campbell.” Her voice is clear and confident. “As you can see, the design for Campbell Tower draws inspiration from both natural forms and the art deco heritage of New York City...”
For the next thirty minutes, I barely take my eyes off her. She commands the room, moving through her presentation with elegant precision. When she describes the vertical gardens that will purify the building’s air while reducing energy costs, I nod enthusiastically. When she explains how the unique glass façade will maximize natural light while minimizing heat gain, I lean forward in my seat.
