She adds her usual excessive cream and sugar to her coffee.
"The board meeting isn't until nine," I explain, watching as she hoists herself onto a barstool across from me.
Rosanna tilts her head slightly, studying me over the rim of her mug. There's something disarming about her direct gaze, as if she's looking past my carefully constructed exterior to something I'm not sure I want her to see.
***
I’ve chaired this table for years. Today, I am not the one setting the agenda.
Malcolm advances the slide deck without commentary. “Heritage remains our strongest redevelopment projection,” he says, tone neutral.
The district fills the screen.
The building in question is outlined in red.
Graham steeples his fingers. “There’s been a development,” he says lightly. “A counter-offer was filed yesterday.”
Malcolm nods once. “Private investor. Modest capital backing. Emotional positioning.”
He doesn’t say her name.
He doesn’t have to.
“You’re aware of it?” Graham asks.
“I am,” I reply.
A beat.
Graham studies me with practiced calm. “Optics can complicate valuation.”
There it is.
“My personal life has no bearing on this acquisition,” I say.
“We hope not,” Graham replies smoothly. “The board simply wants reassurance that lines remain clear.”
Malcolm folds his hands. “If the opposition gains public sympathy, it could slow permitting.”
“Community noise,” Talia adds carefully. “Amplified by proximity.”
Silence settles over the table.
They are not asking whether I support the acquisition.
They are asking whether I can be trusted to.
I give them a flat stare. "Next topic."
The meeting moves on, but the image of the storefront remains projected on the screen.
***
I return to the penthouse earlier than usual.
The board meeting has left me with a lingering sense of disquiet, the project timeline for the Heritage development moving forward despite my unvoiced reservations.
I push these thoughts aside as the elevator opens into the foyer, forcing my thoughts toward the evening ahead.
