“And smart. Took me several hours to make a decision, but I have. And this is the best plan I could comeup with.” I lower my voice. “I’m not asking you to share a hotel room, Emma. I’m asking you to help me close a deal. What happens before or after is entirely up to you.”
“And if I say yes?”
“Then we go. We work. We win.” I pause. “And maybe, once the deal is closed, we stop pretending we’re not two adults who want to see what happens behind closed doors.”
Her breath hitches, her pink lips parting by just a fraction. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip, and I almost groan.
“And if it all blows up in our faces?” she whispers.
I step even closer, so close the citrus on her skin hits me like a drug. “Then we rebuild. I don’t scare easy.”
Her golden-green eyes search mine.
“Okay,” she finally says. “But you promise me—no favoritism. No career fallout. I workedhard to be here.”
“You’ve got my word.” I mean it. “You earned this. And I won’t let anything change that.”
“Then I guess we’re going to Chicago.”
“Separate rooms?” I ask, voice rich with suggestion.
“Separate floors,” she fires back.
I grin. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
She rolls her eyes—but she’s smiling now. She turns toward the door, then glances back.
“Don?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For noticing.”
Before I can say something smart—and definitely inappropriate—she’s gone.
And I’m left standing in the break room like a man who just lit a fuse and smiled at the spark.
Chapter eleven
~EMMA~
The private terminal at Teterboro two days later looks nothing like an airport.
No chaos. No crying babies. No TSA shouting about liquids.
Just marble floors, hushed voices, and quiet lighting that makes even exhaustion feel expensive.
And right now, at six in the morning—with my stomach waging a small internal war—I deeply appreciate that.
The onlydownside?
Donovan Mitchell is standing twenty feet away like a walking reminder of everything I’m trying not to think about.
Dark jeans. Soft forest green henley. Rolex catching the hangar lights.
His dark hair threaded with silver is tousled and full, his gray eyes warmer than usual. Looking disturbingly put together for a man who probably closed three deals before I even put on my shoes, he looks… rested.
As for me, I look exactly like the person I am—the woman who threw up twice this morning already.
