“What are you doing here?” I asked, raising a brow as she pulled me into a hug that smelled faintly of vanilla perfume and mischief. “This has nothing to do with finance.”
She drew back with mock offense. “Excuse you, I am a woman of many interests. My life doesn’t revolve around numbers and quarterly reports.” Her grin curved sharper, her gaze darting past my shoulder toward where Hayden stood. “Besides, I couldn’t resist watching you pretend you’re not ready to combust every time a certain professor so much as looks your way.”
My stomach dropped. Heat crept up my neck in betrayal. “Gwen,” I warned, lowering my voice, “don’t start.”
“Oh, come on,” she said, eyes glinting with unrepentant delight. “You think I didn’t notice the way his gaze followed you from the moment you walked in? Please. I’d have to be blind not to.”
“You’re imagining things.”
She leaned closer, her tone sing-song, cruel in its accuracy. “Am I? Or am I just saying what he’s thinking every time he watches you in that skirt?”
“Gwen!” I hissed, scandalized, but she only laughed, her amusement ringing far too loud in my ears.
Before I could recover, another voice joined in, light and teasing. “Did someone say emotional support?”
Aster slipped between two men in suits and appeared at Gwen’s side, grinning as though she’d been waiting for her cue. “Because I heard a certain lady genius is about to charm an entire room full of professors, and there’s no way I’d miss it.”
I sighed, though the corner of my mouth curved upward despite myself. “You two are impossible.”
“That’s what makes us irresistible,” Gwen said, tossing her hair with mock pride.
Aster leaned closer, her tone conspiratorial. “And honestly, what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t witness academic history and whatever dangerous tension you’ve got going on over there?”
Their laughter broke the tension that had clung to me since Hayden’s touch. The noise of the crowd returned, the world slowly rebuilding itself around me. For the first time that morning, I exhaled fully. The weight in my chest eased, not gone, not forgotten, but quieter, tethered by the simple presence of the two people who reminded me I was more than whatever spell Hayden Stone had cast.
The symposium had ended, but the echoes of applause lingered in the back of my mind, fading and returning in soft, uneven waves. The sharp tension that had held me captive all morning had loosened its grip, leaving behind something quieter, an exhaustion threaded with calm. I remembered how my hands had trembled when I’d first stepped onto that stage, how the weight of so many eyes had pressed against my spine until I thought I might fold beneath it. The lights had been too bright, the air too still, and for a moment, it had felt as though the world was waiting for me to falter.
Then I’d seen him. Hayden.
He hadn’t needed to speak. His presence alone was enough. The moment his gaze found mine, it carried a calm certainty that sliced through the noise and held me still when nothing else could. There had been something in his gaze I hadn’t recognized at first, a quiet pride that had no place in the walls of academiayet burned through the distance between us all the same. In that single instant, my lungs remembered how to draw air. My pulse began to settle, and my voice found its balance. The words I had practiced endlessly began to flow as if they had always belonged to me.
The audience saw confidence and composure. What they didn’t see was that the strength holding me upright wasn’t entirely mine. It came from him, from the man who had become a silent constant in a life I’d spent trying to control. Without asking, without even meaning to, he’d become the reason I could stand on that stage and speak without breaking. And because of him, I knew I would never walk away unchanged.
When the crowd began to thin, I found him again. Hayden stood near the back of the hall, still caught in conversation with another professor, yet his attention was elsewhere. His gaze followed me across the room, unhurried but absolute, carrying a force that stripped everything else from view. I could feel it—his focus, his restraint, his hunger—all layered beneath the civility of that polished exterior. His eyes lingered on my lips for a moment too long, a flicker of recognition passing between us, and I knew he remembered everything as vividly as I did. He shifted forward, his intent clear, each step closing the distance with purpose that made my pulse climb.
Then Gwen’s voice broke through the noise, bright and unfiltered.
“There she is!”
I barely had time to turn before Gwen and Aster cut through the crowd, their smiles wide, their energy a force all its own.
“You were flawless,” Gwen said, throwing her arms around me with theatrical pride. “Not a single misstep, not even when that one professor in the second row looked ready to die of boredom. And that outfit, God, Edwina, you looked every inch the woman who owned that room.”
Aster caught my hand, her grin softer but no less fierce. “You were brilliant. We took enough pictures to fill an entire gallery, so prepare to be embarrassed later. But you’ll thank us when you see how incredible you looked up there.”
Warmth bloomed in my chest at their words, easing the remnants of tension still clinging to me.
“Actually,” Aster said, glancing at Gwen, mischief already sparking. “We’re not letting you disappear home tonight. No tea, no Netflix, no collapsing in bed. We’re celebrating. Drinks, music, maybe champagne if we’re feeling ambitious.”
“Yes!” Gwen said, her excitement spilling over instantly. “Tonight is about Edwina, the star of the symposium, the woman who just made half this building fall in love with linguistics.”
I laughed, shaking my head even as part of me wanted to yield to their plan.
And yet, when I looked past them, across the crowd, my gaze collided with Hayden’s he was still there, still watching. The conversations around him blurred into nothing, and the restrained fire in his eyes told me that he hadn’t yet given up on closing the distance between us.
I smiled faintly, trying to keep my composure. “I’d love to, but honestly…” I lifted one foot, wincing as the pressure from my heels caught up to me. “These heels are killing me, and I don’t think I have the energy to survive another crowd tonight. Rain check?”
They groaned in mock protest but exchanged a knowing glance. Gwen looped her arm through Aster’s and sighed dramatically. “Fine. We’ll let you off the hook, for now. But don’t think we’re done celebrating you.”
