"You look well." He steps closer, studying me like I'm a painting he's considering buying. "Busy. Professional. I've been hearing good things about your work with Vektor."
"Have you?"
"Of course. It's a small world, alpine racing. People talk." He sips his champagne. "I’m impressed."
"Are you?"
"I am." He sets his glass down on a nearby table. "Which is why I wanted to speak with you. Eiswerk is expanding its PR division. I want you back there.”
My stomach tightens.
"We'd create a proper position for you," he continues. "Senior communications coordinator. Real authority. Real autonomy. You'd report directly to the head of marketing, not to me. You'd have your own team."
He says it like it's generous. Like he's offering me freedom.
But I can hear the cage door closing in every word.
"Do I have to return to the Moreau condo?” I ask.
“No, Elise, you can continue your lovely love story wherever you like,” he smirks. “I´d hate to break you up with Nico.”
I keep my face neutral. Professional. "What exactly would the role entail?"
"Media strategy. Athlete liaison. Crisis management. Everything you're doing now with Vektor, but with better resources. Better pay."
"And the reporting line?"
"Head of marketing, as I said. Katrin Müller. You'd meet with her directly."
"And if there's a conflict? Between what I think is right and what Eiswerk wants?"
"Then the matter would escalate. As it does in any organization."
"To you."
He pauses. "Eventually. If necessary."
There it is.
I know exactly what this role would be. A prettier cage. A longer leash. But still a cage.
"How much autonomy would I have?" I ask, keeping my voice level. "Day-to-day decisions. Travel. Which races I attend."
"We'd work that out based on business needs."
"So, not much."
"Élise." His tone sharpens, just slightly. "You'd have more autonomy than most people in your position. But yes, there would be structure. Expectations. That's how organizations function."
"Organizations," I repeat. "Not families."
He studies me. "Is that what this is about? You think I'm trying to control you?"
"Aren't you?"
"I'm trying to give you a future. A real one. Not this,"—he gestures vaguely at the Vektor display—"trial run."
"This isn't a trial run. It's my job."
