Now that we’ve all come to an agreement, I finally dig into my gnocchi. The conversation drifts into stories where Adam is the nostalgia to Finn’s factuality.
By the time our plates are cleared, Holston hits his closing rhythm in perfect stride. It’s annoying how much I enjoy seeing him work with clients.
Finn slides the NDA toward him again. “Let’s sign.”
Adam’s smile could power a city. “Let’s make it official.”
Holston picks up the pen, signs both copies before sliding them over to me. I sign beside him. “There we go,” I announce once I’m done.
Finn folds the signed copy neatly and tucks it back into the folder. “To being in business,” he says, inclining his head.
When the server comes to clear our plates and offer dessert, I’m quick to order a coffee. This was just stage one of today. We still have the preliminary agreement to go over.
But if I thought Nathan Holston was great at his job before we arrived, it’s nothing compared to the awe I have for him now. The way he leads the discussion without ever seeming like anything’s his idea is enviable.
After another hour or so, everyone’s smiling and feeling good about the arrangement. And we’re officially going to be North Coast Effects’ new publicists and communication specialists.
Holston checks his watch. “Gentlemen, this has been fantastic. We’ll be in touch.”
When the check arrives, Adam covers it before Holston can protest. “Business courtesy,” he says easily. “Besides, we’re the ones buying your time now.”
The restaurant’s half-empty by the time we finally stand. Servers are rolling silverware for dinner service, the afternoon sun cutting through the glass ceiling in long stripes across the table.
Passing the glass walls on the way out, our reflections trail beside us—slightly warped, a little exhausted. The place looks less like a greenhouse now and more like a terrarium we’ve been trapped in.
Outside, the May sun hits like a spotlight. I blink against the light while Holston launches into his post-meeting debrief.
“That went perfectly,” he says. “You did good work in there, Raven.”
“Thank you,” I reply with a small smile. Then I remember I’m still pissed at him and wipe said smile off my face.
We walk toward the curb where our driver waits. Holston’s still talking—something about media angles and how well he handled Finn’s stiffness and lack of charisma. My head buzzes from caffeine and too much smiling. Three hours of diplomacy feel heavier than any hangover.
The car smells faintly of leather and air-freshener when we slide into the back seat. For once, Holston doesn’t launch into a recap.
He just watches the city blur past for a minute before saying, “You’re angry with me.”
I stare out the window. “You think?”
“Raven…” He sighs, loosening his tie like the air’s suddenly too thick. “If this is about Matteo, you have every right to be mad. But… I couldn’t refuse him. The man doesn’t ask; he demands.”
“You still could’ve warned me,” I say quietly. “Or pretended I mattered in the equation.”
“You do,” he insists. “And, for whatever it’s worth, I’m really sorry.”
Traffic stalls at a light, sunlight slicing across his face. He looks older than usual.
“It’s not okay,” I mumble, only half believing myself.
If I’m understanding correctly, Matteo has something on Holston. Something my boss can’t just ignore. Well, guess I know what that feels like. And if his situation is as serious as mine, I’m not sure it’s fair of me to stay mad.
“You’re right,” he says finally. “It isn’t. But sometimes survival matters more than doing the right thing.”
I don’t answer. The silence stretches until the car pulls to the curb outside the office.
“You’re still angry,” he says.
Shaking my head, I look at him. “Maybe a little,” I admit. “But I’ll get over it as long as you never do anything like that again.”
