“Thank you, Dad.”
I stand with everyone else, keeping my breathing even. I turn to Victoria first, fearing my expression might betray me if I face Natalie too quickly.
“Congratulations,” I say to Victoria, shaking her hand. “Great deal.”
“Thanks for the assist,” she says before stepping away to answer a buzzing phone.
And then there’s only one hand left to shake.
Her hand is small in mine. I force myself to shut everything down. Every instinct. Every memory. Every piece of me that remembers the way she whispered my name against my mouth that night.
“Congratulations, Ms. Cruz,” I say as smooth and controlled as I can. Like we haven’t already been tangled together. “I’m sureyour show is going to be great.”
“Thank you,” she says quietly.
We’re still standing too close when Ryan’s phone rings. He checks the screen, his face shifting back into his high-powered-lawyer look.
“I have to take this,” he says. “Victoria, can I steal you for a second? You may want to listen in.”
“Of course,” she says, already stepping out with him.
The door closes behind them and suddenly it’s just the two of us. Natalie quickly crosses her arms like she’s bracing herself for impact.
“Small world,” she says, her voice a little higher, a little tighter.
“Indeed.”
Her head lowers as she exhales. “Of all the law firms in Los Angeles.”
“I didn’t know,” I say immediately. Too quickly, probably, but I need it out there. “I swear, I had no idea Ryan had a daughter named Natalie. You go by Cruz?—”
“I know.” She holds up a hand, cutting me off. “There’s no way you would’ve known. Nobody knows.”
“Why?”
Before the question can land, her knees buckle. Not a sway. Not a slight wobble. Her legs give out completely.
I move on pure instinct. My arm shoots out and catches her around the waist before she can hit the floor, pulling her against my chest. She’s light in my arms, too light, and her skin is cool and clammy under my palm.
“Whoa. Hey.” I keep my voice low, steady, even though my heart is slamming against my ribs. “I’ve got you.”
Her hand grips my forearm, fingers digging in like she’s trying to anchor herself. Her breathing is shallow and fast.
“I’m fine,” she says, her voice—thin, shaky—contradicting her.
“You’re not.” I guide her carefully back into the chair, keeping one hand on her elbow, feeling the slight tremor running through her body. “Just sit. Breathe.”
She nods, eyes squeezed shut, and I crouch beside her, my hand still steadying her arm. My thumb brushes against the inside of her wrist without thinking, finding her pulse. It’s fast but steady.
“When’s the last time you ate?” I ask.
“I don’t know. This morning.” She winces. “Toast.”
“Toast,” I repeat. “That’s it?”
“I was too nervous to eat.”
Before I can push further, Ryan reappears in the doorway, phone still in hand. “Everything okay?”
