He stands. He does not just take the floor; he commands it. “Kaiden Rhodes, from ELK,” he begins. His voice is deep, a resonant baritone that seems to vibrate through the very air I breathe. “I’m curious about the intersection of technology andhuman connection. How do you balance the two without losing the soul of the campaign?”
I fidget with the clicker in my left hand. Rhodes, his name sounds familiar but I can’t place it. “Excellent question. At GMV, we view AI as a tool to enhance human connection, not replace it. Our AI analytics help us understand consumer behavior, but it's our creative teams who craft campaigns that resonate on an emotional level.”
I expand on the point, using recent projects as my shield. Kai nods, his expression unreadable, and when I finish, he gives me a small, devastating smile.
“Thank you. You have given me plenty to consider.” He sits, and the air seems to return to the room.
The rest of the session is a blur. I am acutely aware of him, a physical weight in the room. As I exit the stage, the applause is still ringing, and my team swarms me with praise. Maybe they’re finally starting to accept me.
“Brilliant, Emma!” our creative director beams. “You were incredible.”
“Thank you,” I manage. My smile is a fragile thing.
“You certainly took some risks up there,” a nasally voice cuts through. Miles stands behind me, eyes narrow. “I suppose not everyone is afraid of a public failure, even if the choices don’t always land.”
I turn to him, my expression a wall of neutral ice. “Is that so, Miles? The engagement during the Q&A suggests otherwise.”
Before I can sharpen the knife, Zoe pulls me into a hug. “Em, you were a star!”
I let out a shaky laugh, the adrenaline starting to ebb, leaving me raw. “Thanks, Zee. I am just glad it is over.”
“Over? It is just beginning.” She winks, gesturing to the hall. “Now you have to mingle with the bigwigs who are currently obsessed with you.”
The words stay trapped in my throat. I want to tell her. The man from the museum is here, the one who saw me shatter, the one who went silent. But saying it would make the humiliation real… so I swallow it down.
The reception area is a sea of dark wool and clinking glass. I plaster on my most charming smile, shaking hands with executives, discussing sustainable practices. I'm mid-sentence when the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I finish my thought and excuse myself.
Kai is here. Impossibly close, smelling of sandalwood and cold air. “An impressive presentation.” His blue eyes are more intense than the stage lights.
“Thank you.” I lift my chin, refusing to be intimidated by his height. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He shrugs, a slow, deliberate movement. “I have diverse interests. And I could not miss the chance to see you in your element.”
“I hope the experience was worth the ticket price.”
“Every cent.”
I don’t smile. A week ago, those words would have touched me. Now, they’re reminders of how easily I let my guard down.
“How did you know I would be here?” I ask.
“You mentioned GVM at the museum. LinkedIn provided the itinerary.” He pauses, searching my face. “I wanted to see you like this.”
“I am not sure if I should be flattered or concerned by the research.”
“Impressed, perhaps?” He grins, but the humor fades when I stay cold.
My colleagues are watching us, their curiosity a tangible thing, but I cannot look away from him. I am fighting to keep my composure, to hide the fact that his silence got to me.
“Emma,” his tone drops. “How have you been? It's been a while since...”
“Since you saw me having a panic attack?” I finish for him. “Since I showed you the texts and proved I was a liability?”
His jaw tightens. “Emma?—“
“I've been fine. Busy, as you can see.”
“Obviously.” There is a rasp in his voice. Regret, maybe. “I should have reached out. I was not sure if...”
