“Let’s flag this for follow-up.” I keep my tone neutral. “We need to make sure client expectations match long-term margin goals.”
After an excruciatingly painful hour goes by, the meeting concludes. I duck back into my office to breathe. And also pour myself two fingers.
Rishi walks in, juggling his phone and a protein bar in one hand, a folder in the other.
“Bagged another one, boss.” He tosses the folder onto my desk with a cocky grin. The Vanguard logo on the front says enough. “Locked them in by the second round, and the CEO shook my hand before I even wrapped the pitch.”
Satisfied, I nod. “Solid work, Rishi. Really solid.”
He shoves the bar into his mouth, and immediately regrets it. “God, these taste like stale almonds and ass.”
“You bought a box of them.”
“Mistakes were made.” He tosses the bar into the nearest trash bin.
“Who else was there?”
“The Laurel Group,” Rishi answers. “And their point was definitely a killer.Almostmade us sweat.”
“That’s saying something.”
“Fucking gorgeous too,” he adds.
I glance up from the folder, arch a brow. “You gonna ask her out or just admire her LinkedInprofile in the dark?”
“I don’t dip into the competition.”
“That’s hilarious, considering youabsolutelydip into the competition.”
He snorts. “What can I say? I like high stakes and poor judgment.”
I tap the file. Another win. Another payday. This is the life I built—the hours, the hustle, the never-stop grind. Control. Respect. Power.
Yet somehow, it still isn’t enough.
Rishi leans against the corner of my desk, eyeing me. “So. Chloe. Big night?”
I raise a brow. “Why do you sound like a dating show host?”
“Because you’ve been insufferably cryptic for three weeks and I deserve updates.”
A hint of amusement curls on my lips. “You’ll know tomorrow. Assuming she says yes.”
Rishi whistles. “Damn. You’re actually doing it.”
“Don’t make it a thing.”
“It is a thing, man. You put together a freaking video montage.”
“It’s not a montage—it’s a narrative arc.”
“Jesus.” He grins. “You proposal-pitched your girlfriend.”
“It’s not a proposal. It’s akey moment. A next-step thing.”
“A next-step key in a decorative velvet box, with your initials engraved in it, champagne, and that playlist you forced me to help make.”
“You’re remarkably judgmental for someone who once bought his girlfriend a commemorative brick at a science museum.”
