Sandra nods enthusiastically. "I've been saying this for months. Our Asian market is primed for expansion."
Patterson looks like he's swallowed something sour, and I pretend not to notice.
By the time we reach the end of the agenda, the energy in the room has shifted. The initial skepticism has given way to something else—not universal respect, not yet, but a grudging acknowledgment that I might actually know what I'm talking about. That I'm more than my father's shadow.
"If there's nothing else, we'll adjourn until next month," I say, gathering my papers.
The room empties, and I catch Cole's eyes briefly. His expression remains professional, but there's a heat in his gaze that sends a shiver down my spine. One week since the car. One week of his hands, his mouth, his body against mine whenever we're alone. One week of discovering how well we fit together.
I stand, smoothing my skirt, and follow the board members into the hallway.
Sandra, Joyce, and Karen immediately gather around me.
"You were excellent in there," Sandra says, her voice low. "Patterson looked like he was about to puke."
Joyce laughs. "Finally, someone at the top who actually understands our customer base. Robert would be proud. He was always asking your opinion, even when you were just in college."
The mention of Dad brings a pang, but it's softer now, edged with pride rather than just grief.
"You know this business in and out," Karen adds. "Anyone who says otherwise is a fool."
"Thank you," I say, genuinely touched. "I couldn't have done it without your support."
"Don't let those men intimidate you," Joyce says, squeezing my arm. "You belong here. And not just because of your name."
Sandra pulls out her phone. "Let's exchange numbers. We should meet for drinks soon … without the men." She winks.
We swap contact information, and I feel something unfamiliar—a sense of belonging, of having allies who see me as more than Robert Ashton's daughter. Future friends, even if they're all twice my age.
"We've got your back," Karen says. "It's about time we had a CEO who actually represents our core demographic. You know more about what bags and skincare products would sell than fifty-eight-year-old Patterson."
After they leave, I turn to find Cole waiting patiently, his expression neutral but his eyes revealing his pride.
"My office?" I ask.
He nods, following at a respectful distance as we make our way down the corridor. The staff we pass nod deferentially,some offering hellos and congratulations on my new position. I wonder how many of them doubted me and how many still do.
At this point, however, I don't really care. They will eventually see how I operate.
Inside my office, Cole locks the door behind us and leans against it, arms folded across his chest.
"What's up?" I ask, slightly breathless from the lingering adrenaline of the board meeting.
Cole doesn't answer. Instead, he crosses the room with long strides and drops to his knees before me.
The air leaves my lungs. "Cole?"
"You were magnificent in there," he says, his voice rough with desire. His hands slide up my calves, beneath my skirt. "Let me show you how proud I am."
His fingers hook into my underwear, drawing it down my legs. I step out of them, heart racing, my core pulsing with need.
"Anyone could come in," I whisper, even as heat pools between my thighs.
"Door's locked," he says, looking up at me with those storm-gray eyes. "And I need to taste you."
He lifts my skirt, guides one of my legs over his shoulder. The first touch of his mouth against me sets me on fire. I gasp, gripping the edge of my desk with both hands.
"Cole," I moan, fighting to stay quiet.
