“The bottom line is that they need to upgrade strategically,” Remy cuts him off, pulling up a color-coded timeline. “A phased approach addresses critical vulnerabilities without operational disruptions. Phase one tackles authentication, where you’re most exposed. Phase two handles network segmentation. Phase three modernizes your backup and disaster recovery systems.”
“Look, you can’t afford to wait,” Damon says.
“Fearmongering isn’t helpful.” Remy turns to him directly. “Yes, they need to upgrade. But scaring them into hasty decisions won’t build trust or deliver results.”
The chief technology officer nods slowly. “I appreciate that. We’ve been burned by vendors who promised the moon and delivered chaos.”
Damon opens his mouth again, clearly about to push back, and I interrupt him. “Remy is right. Our reputation is built onsustainable solutions. The phased approach is exactly how we’ve handled security overhauls for companies three times your size.”
Damon narrows his eyes, but he keeps his mouth shut.
The rest of the meeting proceeds smoothly. Remy fields technical questions with ease, Breck handles the relationship-building, and Enzo jumps in when the conversation veers into infrastructure specifics. By the time we shake hands and promise a follow-up within forty-eight hours, I’m confident we’ve secured the contract.
Back at the hotel, we all head through the lobby toward the elevators. Remy has her laptop bag slung over her shoulder, looking ready to disappear into her room.
“Hang on.” Breck turns to face the group. “We’re celebrating. I found a place downtown with decent whiskey and great steaks. Remy, you should come.”
Remy glances between us, and then her eyes land on Damon. “That’s kind of you, but I think I’ll pass. It’s been a long day.”
Damon’s entire body goes rigid beside me, but he stays silent.
“Are you sure?” Breck asks, and I can hear the genuine disappointment. “Because technically, you did most of the work. We just stood there looking handsome.”
“I’m sure.” She smiles. “You guys enjoy. I’m going to order room service and maybe take a bath.”
“I’ll walk you up.” Breck moves toward the elevators. “To make sure you get to your room safely.”
Damon makes a sound that might be a laugh or a scoff. “She can find her own room. She’s not a child.”
“It’s fine.” Remy’s already pressing the elevator button. “Really. Have a good night.”
Breck follows her anyway, and I watch them disappear into the elevator together. He leans in close, murmuring what I assume is a joke based on how her lips curve into an actual smile. And I’m surprised at the slight twinge of jealousy I feel.
When Breck comes back to the lobby, he announces, “She’s all set. Ordered enough room service to feed three people and looked genuinely happy about it.”
“Seriously?” Damon scoffs. “Who the fuck cares? She’s staying somewhere nicer than anywhere she could afford on her own. I’m sure she’s loving every minute of it.”
I don’t respond. She’s probably relieved to have the evening to herself.
Damon claps me on the shoulder, already heading for the exit. “Let’s get out of here. I need a drink after today.”
The restaurant is loud, expensive, and full of beautiful people. We get a booth in the back and order whiskey and steaks. The conversation flows like it always does, with old jokes and familiar dynamics.
After a couple of drinks, Damon keeps circling back to Remy. Small comments. Subtle digs.
“Did you see her correcting me in front of the client?” He swirls his whiskey. “She probably spent all night looking for that error so that she could swoop in and save the day.” Damon signals for another drink. “She’s trying to make herself indispensable. It’s all part of the game.”
“She found a legitimate problem and fixed it.” There’s an edge to Breck’s tone that is rarely there. “She did a good job today.”
“You’re defending her? Do you want to fuck her, too?” Damon’s laugh is harsh, but underneath it, I hear fear. “I can tell you right now, she’s not worth it. Trust me.”
The table goes quiet.
My hand tightens around my glass. “That’s enough.”
“What?” Damon throws up his hands. “I’m just saying?—”
“I know what you’re saying.” I set my whiskey down carefully. “And I’m telling you it’s enough.”
