By the time dessert arrives—some architectural masterpiece involving chocolate and gold leaf—I'm ready to escape.
But Richard orders another round of drinks, and Michael wants to discuss partnership terms in more detail, and Carmen is expertly guiding the conversation toward a close.
And I'm stuck across from Emma, watching her lick chocolate off her spoon in a way that shouldbe illegal.
"This has been wonderful," Richard says finally, checking his watch. "But I have an early flight tomorrow. Shall we continue this conversation next week?"
"Absolutely." I stand, offering my hand. "Emma will send over the updated projections Monday."
"Looking forward to it." Richard turns to Emma. "You're doing excellent work. Titan is lucky to have you."
"Thank you." Emma's smile is genuine. "I appreciate the opportunity."
We say our goodbyes—Carmen heading out with Richard and Michael to discuss logistics, Logan making excuses about an early morning meeting that we both know is bullshit.
Which leaves Emma and me alone in the restaurant's entrance.
"That went well," she says, pulling out her phone. "I think they're ready to commit."
"Thanks to you." I nod toward the door. "Let me call you a car."
"I can take the subway—"
"No." The word comes out rough. A rasp. "It's eleven PM. You're not taking the subway.”
Emma's eyes flash—surprised, maybe, or aroused. Possibly both. “You really don’t like me taking the subway, do you?”
“I really fucking don’t.” I pull out my phone and request a car, then we step outside into the humid night air.
The city is alive around us.
Tourists taking photos. Couples holding hands. A street performer playing saxophone somewhere in the distance.
We stand there in silence, waiting, the warm air made hotter with each second that passes.
"You were incredible tonight," I say finally, voice low.
"I was doing my job."
"You were commanding a table full of men twice your age with twice your experience." I turn to face her. "Richard wasimpressed. Michael was taking notes. You earned their respect in two hours."
"That's what I'm here for."
"Emma." I say her first name—a rarity, stepping closer as she tilts her head back to look at me. "Take the compliment."
"Why? So you can feel better about wanting me?"
The honesty catches me off guard.
"I don't need to feel better about wanting you," I say. "I know I want you. I've known since Miami.”
“I see. And I know we agreed—"
"I know what we agreed." I'm close enough now that I could touch her if I wanted to. "Professional boundaries. Appropriate distance. I’m not a fucking idiot, Emma.”
She blinks. “Of course. I never meant to insinuate that—“
“Insinuate what?” I take a step closer and watch as her lips part softly. “That I wantto fuck you three ways from Sunday? That I’d give my left arm to hear you scream my name again, like you did in Miami?”
