He doesn’t argue.
“I’ll remain available,” Rowan says, and leaves me alone with the folder and the silence.
I don’t move for several minutes.
Then, without consciously deciding to, I pull a legal pad from my drawer.
I start writing.
Terms.
Duration.
Public expectations.
Privacy clauses.
Compensation structure.
Healthcare coverage. Comprehensive. Immediate.
Housing. Neutral ground.
Exit provisions. Clean. Fair. Non-punitive.
I tell myself it’s hypothetical. A framework. Risk modeling.
I do not write the wordmarriage.
But every line implies it.
Time slips past unnoticed. The city outside darkens. My office lights remain on.
I’m deep into contingencies when a knock comes.
Elliot doesn’t wait for permission. He steps inside, jacket still on, tie gone, eyes going straight to the legal pad on my desk.
“Well,” he says. “This is new.”
I sigh, knowing there is no use trying to hide this from him now.
“Is it?” I reply.
Elliot strolls closer, reading upside down like he doesn’t care that he’s invading something private. “Depends. Are youdrafting a merger… or are you considering a marriage of convenience?”
I look up at him.
“Yes.”
The humour drains from his face.
“Oh,” he says. Then, quieter, “You’re serious.”
I don’t respond.
He drops into the chair across from me, studying me instead of the paper now. “Lucy Bennett? The women from this morning?”
“Yes.”
