I didn’t delete it.
Didn’t correct it, either.
Just set the phone down on the dresser and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My jaw was tight. Shoulders tense.
I tried to tell myself it was just the pressure. The team. The dinner. TheHayashi talks looming in the background.
But it wasn’t.
It was her.
She was under my skin, in my head, and I hadn’t even seen her today.
The screen lit up again. Her reply.
Flattery noted. Hope your team likes red lipstick and sarcasm.
I smiled.
Again.
This was getting dangerous.
Because pretending was supposed to be easy. Controlled. Strategic.
Instead, I was catching myself thinking about her laugh. Her stubborn jaw. The way her voice always softened when she talked about her work, even when she tried to act all steel-spined and unaffected.
And the worst part?
I liked it.
All of it.
Too much.
I tossed my phone onto the bed and let it land face-down on the comforter.
Didn’t need to look at it again. Didn’t trust myself to.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, head tipped back as I stared up at the ceiling like it might offer answers. Or maybe just quiet the noise in my head.
I should’ve felt dread about tonight.
The cameras. The forced smiles. The teammates who were already placing bets on how long we’d last. The executives watching from behind the scenes. Hayashi’s people lurking in the shadows, analyzing every move I made.
But instead?
All I could think about was her.
She’d be there.
Daphne.
In whatever version of lipstick-and-sarcasm armor she chose to wear tonight. Tossing barbs at me when no one was listening, and laughing like she didn’t know how easily that sound could undo me.
I wanted to hear her laugh again.
I wanted to say something stupid just to make it happen.
