“Sure. Except he looked at you like Lucen looks at Catlyn in the crypt scene.”
“That’s just his natural look. He’s got resting smolder face.” Emma let her head fall back against the plush backrest. “It was barely a conversation. And yeah, he’s hot, but he’s not...thathot.”
“Oh, really?” Leah rolled onto her side, bracing her head in her hand. “So he doesn’t look exactly like the brooding villain you literally engineered to represent your deepest, darkest desires?”
Emma closed her eyes, unable to hold back her smile. “I plead the Fifth.”
Below, the city still buzzed: distant sirens, someone shouting in the street, the low pulse of a party still going.
Inside the room, everything softened into a mellow haze. The afterglow of a day that had seemed endless, and still somehow managed to land like magic. She could still feel the trace of Darren’s fingertips against her temple, warm and feather-light.
Sleep pulled at her, the armchair deceitfully comfortable. With a reluctant sigh, she mustered the willpower to head for the bathroom. Over on the bed, Leah muttered something about breaking the screw-the-skincare pact.
She got ready for bed in a daze. Washed her face. Changed into her softest T-shirt. Climbed under the covers and let the duvet swallow her whole. Beside her, Leah slid on a replica of Audrey Hepburn’sBreakfast at Tiffany’ssleep mask.
“You know what tomorrow is, right?”
Emma stared at the ornate ceiling above, tracing the pattern. Of course she knew. Today had just been the warm-up. Tomorrow, shewas the one to go on stage. Not in Hall H, but still. Crowds, lights, cameras to capture and broadcast every word. “Judgment Day?”
She could practically feel Leah’s eye roll through the mattress. “Panel day, Emma.”
“Same thing.”
“You’ll be brilliant. You always are when it matters.”
Emma didn’t answer. The fear was still there, but now it felt mingled with something else. A quiet, steady glow within her. Not confidence exactly, but close. Like the light flickering on in a room she hadn’t entered in years. She wasn’t sure what had sparked it, but she guarded it carefully, like a tiny flame in a storm.
For a long time, she lay awake in the dark, sheets cool against her skin, mind drifting. But not in the way it usually did, toward duties and to-dos.
Not listing the work emails she’d have to answer tomorrow. Not mentally drafting her response to Miranda’s email about the overdue pages. Not even worrying about the impending panel.
Instead, it kept going back to the rooftop. The sound of her name on his lips. His fingers against her skin. And the look he gave her...She turned over onto her stomach, smiling into the pillow.
Had Darren Cole actually flirted with her?
It was a pleasant fantasy, at least. She sighed softly, allowing sleep to pull her under.
As she drifted off, her mind finally found the right words for what he’d made her feel. Something far simpler and purer than she’d expected.
She’d felt seen.
Chapter 10
White linens, chocolate croissants,
nerves unraveling by the minute.
The hotel breakfast buffet was indecently beautiful. Sunlight streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows, catching on glass pitchers of fresh juice and artfully arranged fruit platters that looked more like interior decoration than food.
Emma stirred her coffee and looked down at her plate, where a chocolate croissant and two strawberries sat untouched. Whatever that surge of confidence had been last night, it had evaporated with sunrise.
For mental comfort as much as physical, she’d gone with her standard armor: tailored black pants and a short-sleeved navy blouse. Leah hadn’t commented—probably sensing this was the wrong time for sartorial experiments.
She sat across the table, already halfway through a poached egg and a green smoothie that looked slightly radioactive.
“So,” she said without preamble, “here’s the game plan for today.”
Emma rolled her shoulders back, trying to look enthusiastic. Or at least not like she debated feigning a heart attack. “Shoot.”
