I’m more excited than I’ve been in ages. For three days now, I’ve been discussing my ideas with Jason on calls, and he likes every one of them. He wants a proper meeting now, in person tomorrow, just to close the deal.
For a client like this, I’d fly to the moon myself.
“Now, what the hell has you so excited this morning?” Valentin’s annoyed voice booms from across the room. “You haven’t put your phone down once, and I’m afraid your fingers might burn off.”
“I got a client,” I blurt out, needing to share the good news.
“That's great! Who is it?”
Valentin sounds genuinely thrilled, which gets me even more excited.
“TriCore Solutions. They're an up-and-coming tech company specializing in project management software. Valentin.” I take a breath. “This could be huge for me.”
“Well done, Gela!” He fists the air. “I knew you could do it!”
His happiness is infectious, but of course, there’s that one elephant in the room I haven’t yet addressed, and it’s about time I do.
“They want to meet tomorrow at Café Umbria.”
That smile knocks itself off, and Valentin looks like someone brought in rain boots with dirt and soiled his floors. “Like… in person?”
“Of course, in person,” I snap, already expecting the fight and bracing for it. “That's how business meetings typically work.”
“That’s not happening,” he declares it like a royal order, and I feel the tendrils of anger begin to form.
I feel any and all excitement shrivel up, only to be replaced by a very hot stream of anger. “Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t clear. I wasn't asking for permission!”
His expression hardens. “What you want doesn’t matter. The Zakharovs are still looking for you.”
“And they'll keep looking for me whether I'm locked in here or not.” I push back from my desk in frustration. “I can’t hide from my responsibilities. This is my career we’re talking about!”
“Need I mention you won’t have much chance at building this career if you’re dead?” he almost shouts at me.
“I've spent years building this business, and now I finally have a chance at a major client during this whole mess, and you just say 'no' like you're the king of me? I’m quite certain that the Zakharovs won’t put a bullet in my head the very first time I step out. How will they even know where to find me?”
“Look,” he says, his voice softening, “I understand this is important to you—”
“No, you don't understand,” I interrupt. “If you did, you wouldn't be so quick to dismiss it. This is who I am, Valentin. My work is everything to me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, and I hear him take a deep breath.
“Don’t breathe like that,” I hiss.
He looks incredulous. “Breathe like what?”
“Like I’m the problem here!” I plant my hands on my hips.
“You’re telling me how to breathe and then have the audacity to call me the King of you? Seriously, Gela?”
He looks so damn frustrated that it’s almost comical, but I hold back my smile.
Suddenly, I realize the rush I feel isn’t just from defending my stance. It’s from this heated exchange, this twisted, exciting thing we do together, where we get under each other’s skin.
“Fine. I’ll take that back,” I admit, “as long as you stop dismissing my idea to go.”
“I’m not dismissing you, Gela, but look at the facts!” he groans in frustration. “Those men who wanted to kill you arestill looking for you. That last phone call you got wasn't just a coincidence. That client was a set-up.”
“This one isn’t!”
