I’d already put my team through final prep that morning, every line sharpened enough to cut through distraction. Or it should have been. But between the memory of her mouth on mine and the knowledge that Nathan would be parked at the same damn table, focus was a lost cause.
I’d done everything short of criminal to keep him out of this meeting—reassignments, a conveniently “urgent” call with legal. None of it had stuck.
So I’d done the only thing left: apologized in advance for him. A preemptive strike born of ugly experience.
Now I paced the length of the glass-walled conference room, a caged animal in a very expensive suit. The skyline threw myreflection back at me: knees weak, shoulders set, hands buried in my pockets to hide the slickness on my palms.
“Mr.Holt.” Amber’s voice sliced through the noise in my head. Efficient, preppy, hungry—she treated every meeting like a rung on the ladder. Ms.Sinclair and her team have just arrived in the lobby.”
The sweat on my brow betrayed me. “Perfect.” I kept my voice level. “Bring them up.”
She dipped her chin and vanished, the echo of her heels fading down the corridor.
I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders once to bleed off tension. Across the table, Maria caught my eye. She’d already claimed the chair opposite mine—Emma’s chair. Temporary, but deliberate. A blockade to keep Nathan from sliding into it the second her back was turned.
A small nod passed between us. She understood the game. Nathan always played the same three cards: intimidate, undermine, invade. Not his official motto, but close enough to engrave on his headstone.
Not today. Not with Emma in the room.
Tessa had set up shop beside me, her folder a controlled explosion of highlighted prep notes and color-coded tabs. She’d nearly bowed out with a migraine, but she’d shown up anyway—knuckles white around the handle of her bag and posture straight as rebar.
I’d always believed that the more women in a room, the smoother the negotiation ran. Not in a fetishized way, just… a pattern. They tended to show up prepared and interested in outcome over ego.
Nathan, predictably, was the exception.
He’d already sprawled near the far end of the table, taking up space like it owed him rent. Face sour, shoulders heavy with whatever personal crisis had ruined his morning.
He’d muttered something earlier about a call from the child support office. I hadn’t asked for details, but the implication had been enough to make me want to laugh. As far as I knew, Nathan hadn’t contributed genes to anyone who’d admit it. Whoever was on the other end of that call, I hoped they took him for everything he had.
Voices drifted down the hall—two male, two female—and then hers.
That sound hit me like a live current. She could cut glass one minute and ease a room the next. Perfection, spun into syllables.
The air around me seemed to tighten. My fingers flexed inside my pockets, a useless attempt to burn off the restless energy building under my skin. She hadn’t even stepped through the door, and my body reacted as if she was still pressed against my chest.
Her heels clicked down the hall, each step a countdown.
When she appeared in the doorway, the rest of the world fell out of frame.
She was… dangerous. Dark curls piled high into a bouncing updo, tiny spirals pulled from the sides to frame her face. The fitted pencil skirt hugged her hips in a way that made my attempt at restraint feel like a full-time occupation, and her blouse—a deep, commanding red—matched the color painted across her mouth.
Ambition wrapped in silk and steel. If she’d asked for my soul, I wouldn’t have bothered negotiating.
But she wasn’t here for that. Not today. Today she was here for Elion.
I stepped forward, forcing my heartbeat into something that resembled a professional rhythm as I extended my hand. “Ms.Sinclair.”
“Mr.Holt,” she replied, taking my hand. Her grip was firm, unflinching. A silent declaration that whatever had passed between us would not bleed into today’s agenda.
“Thank you for offering to host today’s meeting,” she added, the words gliding over the formality with practiced ease.
“Our pleasure.” I inclined my head, keeping my tone measured. “I hope you had a chance to see the building. Meet some of our people.”
“I did. Everyone spoke very highly of you and what you’ve built.”
The pride that rose in me was impossible to hide. My hand brushed briefly over my sternum, the gesture instinctive. “That means more than you know.”
I could’ve stayed in that moment—held there between her smile and the weight of her words—but the room demanded motion, and the deal demanded precision.
