Now? She’s snappy. Defiant.
“Can you repeat the question?” That’s me these days, zoning out in meetings, which I hate. I’m supposed to be the guy in control—remember?
Right now, I’m in the Gaudí room with investors for a new high-end condo development on Collins Ave, and I’m half-listening to the conversation while watching Emma talk to Sam by the kitchen door. If I didn’t know Sam was hopelessly in love with Amanda, I’d probably be grinding my damn teeth.
In front of me are four investors. All long-time clients who trust us with projects like this.
Well, all of them except Mrs. Brown—orMiss, as she likes to correct me.
A widow who inherited her fortune and is looking to invest it in our firm. For a woman in her fifties, she’s aging like fine wine—clearly takes care of herself.
She keeps smiling at me every time our eyes meet, not realizing Emma is standing just behind her—and that I’m sitting in this exact spotbecauseof that.
“You went with my construction firm suggestion in the end?” she asks.
“Yes. My team did a market analysis, and it turns out they’re one of the best in Florida. Of course, your recommendation played a part.”
“That’s great to hear. They’ve never let me down, Luca.”
She always uses my first name, while I stick to formalities and a polite distance.
It’s not personal. It’s just who I am.
I check the time on my phone and give the room one last scan. “If there are no more questions, I’d say we can wrap thisup. From now on, we’ll handle progress updates via email—there’s no need to keep making the trip in.”
They all nod in agreement.
“Excellent.” I rise from my seat and button my jacket. “I have another meeting I can’t miss.”
“Luca!”Miss Brown stops me just as I’m opening the door. She hurries over with a determined click of heels. “I was wondering if you had time this afternoon? I’ve still got a few unanswered questions.” She reaches up and plucks a piece of lint off my lapel. Pretty sure it wasn’t there. I don’tdolint.
“Unfortunately, that’s impossible. My schedule’s packed today.”
“Well, what about dinner then?”
Shit.
“Sure. I’ll have Brenda set something up for later this week.”
A straight-up lie, smooth as silk.
She looks pleased and heads off to gather her things like everyone else.
On my way out, I run into Brenda walking the investors to the elevators.
“Let them leave on their own,” I tell her. “Miss Brown’s being persistent again, and if she asks about dinner, just say you need to check my schedule first.”
“Yes, Mr. Walker,” she snaps, then turns on her heel.
I make my way toward my favorite room in the whole damn building now—Emma’s office. Or technically, the Great Ideas department. But really, it’s hers.
When I walk in, the whole team is already waiting.
Today’s the big presentation: the official campaign video and ad strategy.
Emma’s standing by her desk, fidgeting with her fingers the way she always does when she’s nervous.
“Sorry for the delay,” I say as I slide into the only open seat in the room—my usual one, when I want to observe without hovering.
