His jaw tightens. I watch the scar tissue pull as the muscles beneath it clench.
Suddenly he touches the smart glass panel beside him, turning the glass opaque so that we’re sealed away from prying eyes.
“You want credit?” His voice has dropped to that dangerous quiet register. The one that makes everyone else in this building suddenly remember urgent appointments elsewhere. “Forwhat?Doing your job?”
And there it is. The dismissal I knew was coming. The one that’s supposed to put me back in my box.
“For saving your ass repeatedly while you treat me like I’m beneath you,” I hiss.
The silence that follows is absolute.
I’m breathing too fast. My hands are shaking. I can smell his cologne.
His dark eyes are fixed on mine. Not looking through me for once. Actuallyseeingme.
“I don’t think you’re beneath me,” he says.
The admission is so quiet I almost miss it.
But I don’t. I hear every syllable.
And worse, I hear everything he’snotsaying.
I need to leave right now before I say something else. Before he says something else. Before this conversation goes somewhere neither of us can come back from.
“Right.” My voice comes out strangled. “Good talk.”
Good talk?
GOOD TALK?
What are you, a middle school soccer coach?
I turn, and my hands are trembling so badly I can barely grip the handle. But I manage to open the door and walk out of his office.
Back at my desk, I sit down and stare at my laptop screen without seeing anything. My heart is still pounding. My face is still burning.
Thankfully, Nico keeps the smart glass walls of his office on the opaque setting. Because I don’t think I could stand to have his eyes on me right now.
You just told off a billionaire CEO.
Your boss.
The man whose company you literally cannot afford to get fired from.
Excellent decision-making, Bree.
But beneath the panic, there’s something else.
Something that feels almost like pride.
I said what needed to be said.
I demandedrecognition.
I refused to be invisible.
Even if it costs me everything.
