“The only thing I regret is not saying it sooner. Now, get out of here.”
She opens her mouth, closes it, then spins on her heel and walks away. The click of her heels against marble echoes through the quiet room.
For a moment, no one moves. Then I see Whitmore approaching from the corner of my eye, his expression concerned.
“Daniel, perhaps we should—” he starts.
“And Whitmore?” Daniel’s voice stops him mid-step. “Stop flirting with Bailey. She’s not interested, and your attention is unwelcome.”
Whitmore’s face flushes red. “That’s preposterous! I was simply being friendly—”
“You were being inappropriate. If you can’t maintain boundaries, we can discuss this deal with someone who can.”
Whitmore sputters, looking around at the watching crowd. “This is highly irregular—”
“So is cornering someone’s girlfriend at a business function.” Daniel’s voice is ice. “Are we clear?”
A long pause. Then Whitmore nods stiffly. “Crystal clear.”
“Good.”
Daniel takes my hand firmly and pulls me toward the exit. People step aside, creating a path. I can feel every eye on us, hear the whispers starting.
This is going to be everywhere. The cameras caught everything.
We don’t speak until we’re in the elevator, doors closing on the shocked faces behind us.
The moment we’re alone, Daniel slams his palm against the wall. “Fuck.”
“Daniel—”
“I just lost my temper in front of half the London investment community.” He runs both hands through his hair. “There were cameras. This is going to be everywhere by morning.”
“I know.”
“Lottie is going to kill me. The board is going to have a field day. Cassidy got exactly what she wanted—”
“Daniel—”
“And Whitmore. Jesus Christ, I just threatened a major investor.” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I might have just torpedoed the entire London deal.”
“Daniel, look at me.”
He doesn’t. I take a slow step back, letting my hands fall uselessly to my sides as I watch him, the anger and panic etched into his face. I can’t reach him, not tonight, not like this. So I turn, my shoulders tight, backing him for the rest of the ride.
***
The car ride back to the hotel is suffocating.
Daniel stares out the window all through, jaw clenched, saying nothing. The gray buildings and red buses on the London streets blur past. I’ve tried, but I can’t stop replaying Daniel’s words.
She is the only one who has ever seen the real me.
It’s probably shallow of me to be focused on that right now, considering there’s probably a mountain of problems awaiting us after that scene at the party, but the way he’d said them … it’s almost like he meant every syllable.
“What you said back there,” I finally venture. “What did you mean?”
“Nothing.” His tone is flat. “PR control.”
