It isn’t flirtation.
It isn’t warmth.
It’s something quieter.
Focused.
Like he’s decided something, and he’s waiting to see if I notice.
My pulse ticks up, irrationally.
“Mr. North?” I ask, forcing steadiness into my voice. “Is there anything else you needed?”
His gaze holds mine.
“Yes,” he says.
Just that.
One word. Like he’s reached a conclusion.
And something in the air shifts. I still don’t know what he means.
But I know I’m not leaving yet.
Chapter 11 - Julian
We could have sent a confirmation email.
That’s the first thought I have as Lucy Bennett sets her bag down and connects her laptop to the screen with smooth, practiced ease. No hesitation. No wasted movement. She doesn’t ask why the founders of Northwell Holdings are sitting around a table meant for department heads and project leads.
She doesn’t ask anything at all. She just begins. And that, more than anything else, tells me she understands power and that it doesn't scare her.
Theo is already restless beside Elliot, stretched out as if the chair had personally offended him. Elliot looks entertained, which means he’s filing impressions away for later. Rowan stands at the far end of the room, silent and watchful, exactly where he prefers to be. Caleb sits upright, composed, attention sharp.
I didn’t ask them to come.
They came anyway.
That matters.
Lucy starts walking us through the event timeline, her voice calm, warm, unforced. She doesn’t speak like someone trying to impress. She speaks like someone who expects to be listened to.
I notice the details before I mean to.
Her dress is tailored, neutral, functional, chosen to disappear into professionalism. I take in the precision of her posture. The balance. The structure beneath her grace. The way she holds herself. She is wearing the same pair of shoes, the only pair of shoes I have seen her wear, now that I think about it.
I make a mental note to add a wardrobe allowance to the contract's financial section. Her hair is pulled back in a low, loose knot at the nape of her neck, strands slipping free when she turns her head.
It looks touchable, like my hand would fit perfectly at the nape of her neck, that I could easily slide my fingers into the knot and...
That thought is intrusive. Unnecessary.
I discard it.
She talks about flow, timing, staffing, and contingency planning. She references security protocols without being prompted, and I feel Rowan’s attention sharpen, a subtle shift that tells me she’s earned something from him.
Good.
