Jasmine’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He is. Building something from the ground up isn’t easy, especially not withcompetition like Black Security snapping up all the high-profile clients.”
And there it was, the real reason I was sitting in this overpriced restaurant instead of a regular office. I wasn’t only a potential hire; I was a possible weapon in whatever war Sentinel was waging against Langston’s company.
The waiter appeared with two glasses of sparkling water. I reached for mine immediately, needing something to do with my hands.
Jasmine continued, opening a tablet, “Let’s talk about what Sentinel can offer you. We’re seeking an individual to lead our new community relations division. Your background in journalism combined with your local roots makes you uniquely qualified.”
As she outlined the position, salary, benefits, and the six-figure salary along with flexible hours, creative control over an entire department, and travel opportunities, my fingers fidgeted with my water glass. The offer was impressive, surpassing my expectations given my recent work history.
It was exactly what I needed — financial stability, professional purpose, and a chance to rebuild my career without depending on Langston or feeling like I’d settled.
So why did I keep picturing Langston’s face as he’d watched me leave his home this morning? Why did his hands on my body last night keep intruding on Jasmine’s detailed explanation of the retirement package?
“We’d want you to start immediately. Dad’s particularly interested in your insights on—” Jasmine slid the tablet toward me to show a draft contract.
She stopped abruptly, eyes focusing on something over my shoulder. The slight widening of her pupils was my only warning before a familiar presence slid into the booth beside me, his cologne wrapping around me like a second skin.
“Torres, hope I’m not interrupting,” Langston commented, his voice casual but with an undercurrent I recognized from business calls.
My head snapped toward him, shock momentarily robbing me of speech. Langston sat close enough where his thigh pressed against mine beneath the table, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp as they moved between me and Jasmine.
“Black, what a surprise. We were discussing Aven’s potential role at Sentinel,” Jasmine replied, recovering quickly.
“Is that right? And what role would that be?” Langston took a sip of my water, his arm brushing mine in a move both casual and deliberately possessive.
I found my voice, anger pushing through the shock. “Langston, what are you doing here?”
He ignored the question, eyes still locked on Jasmine. “I’m curious what kind of offer you’re making. Must be pretty impressive to try poaching someone in the middle of a major project for a competitor.”
Jasmine tilted her head slightly. Her professional smile never wavered. “Ms. Compton reached out to us, Langston. And yes, our offer reflects her considerable talents. Talents perhaps aren’t being fully utilized in an… archival capacity.”
The dig was effective. Langston’s jaw tightened almost subtly, the only sign the insult had landed.
“Actually, Aven’s been instrumental in developing our new community engagement platform. She’s on track for partnership, in fact,” he rebutted, his voice so calm it raised every warning flag in my body.
I choked on the water I’d just sipped, coughing as both of them turned to look at me.
“Partnership?” Jasmine echoed, skepticism evident.
“Absolutely. She’s not available, Jasmine. She’s on the partner track at Black Security.” There was a pause, long enough for me to sense the shift in his energy. “Also, she’s marrying me.”
The water glass slipped from my fingers, splashing my clothes and the polished table. My mouth dropped open. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was surprised it didn’t visibly move my blouse. Heat spread from my neck to my hairline, prickling across my skin as I stared at Langston’s perfectly serious face.
Words failed me completely, my brain short-circuiting like an overloaded power strip. I reached for my purse. Langston had some big kahunas showing up at my interview.
Chapter
Ten
LANGSTON
Emotions flash across Aven’s face like lightning in a summer storm, shock widening her eyes, fury tightening her jaw, and something else, something dangerously close to hope, before she shuttered it away behind a mask of composed disbelief. Her gaze cut from me to Jasmine and back again, mouth opening and closing twice before she found her voice, though it came out strangled and higher than usual.
“Excuse me,” she managed, already sliding out of the booth.
I caught the flash of panic on her face. She didn’t look at me as she stood, smoothing her navy skirt.
“Take your time. I’ll be right here,” I said, my voice calmer than the hurricane raging in my chest.
