I tell her my assistant will send her all the information for dinner, and she leaves without looking back.
The room feels emptier than it should.
I return to my office and shut the door.
The contract is already on my desk.
I hadn’t planned that. But there it is, clauses I drafted last night without consciously admitting what they were for.
Or maybe I had.
I sit, loosen my tie, and stare at the page.
I think about the way she spoke about contingencies like she’s lived her life preparing for collapse.
I think about her sayingI’ll be working the eventwithout complaint.
I think about the way her hair curled at the nape of her neck, and what it would feel like threaded through my fingers while she...
No.
Control.
This isn’t desire. Desire is chaotic. Impulsive.
This is alignment.
Lucy Bennett isn’t a fantasy.
She’s a solution.
And I’ve never failed to close a deal when the variables were clear.
Chapter 12 - Lucy
Claire calls just after two. I’m at my office after visiting some of the vendors for the Northwell Event, with my laptop open, answering emails and finalizing inquiries like nothing in my life is currently tilting on its axis.
“Ms. Bennett,” she says, calm and precise. “This is Claire. Mr. North’s executive assistant.”
My spine straightens automatically. Not fear, awareness.
Because that whole interaction this morning has me feeling off.
“Yes,” I say.
“He asked me to confirm dinner this evening. Seven thirty. I’ve sent the address to your email.” A brief pause. “We can arrange a car if you’d like.”
I glance at the clock on my screen, then at the half-packed notes scattered across the table. “No, thank you. I’ll make my own way.”
“Of course,” she replies smoothly. “He is eager to meet with you this evening.”
When the call ends, I don’t move for a long moment.
Dinner.
Not a meeting. Not a follow-up. Not something that belongs neatly in a calendar box with bullet points and outcomes.
A conversation, he’d said.
