“My company is in turmoil, Damien,” I snapped. “How could I stay home?”
“Because you hadn’t stopped shaking when I left you this morning.”
The words hit like a slap.
“I’m still the CEO of a company,” I fired back, heat flaring under my skin. “I don’t get to vanish because I’m upset.”
A sigh spilled through the speaker. “I gave you an order, Emma.”
“Fuck your orders,” I bit out.
Silence.
Sharp, immediate, electric.
“You matter more to me than Elion,” he said gently. “That’s why I gave the order.”
“You don’t get to say that to me right now,” I hissed. “Not when everything is on fire.”
“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t be there,” he countered. “You’re exhausted, you’re hurting, you barely slept—”
“Because I’m trying to figure out how to save a company that won’t survive another hit.”
He exhaled. “Emma. You can’t keep doing this alone.”
“I have to.”
“No,” he said, firmly. “You don’t.”
The sound of a chair scraping came through the receiver, the faint metallic clink of keys in the background.
“Damien—don’t,” I warned.
“I’m already on my way.”
“Do not come here.”
“You said fuck my orders?” he snarled. “Fine. I’m returning the favor.”
The line went dead.
The office phone’s red call light blinked.
Sarah’s voice—usually bright to the point of saccharine—came through the speaker stripped of its usual cheer.
“Ms.Sinclair? Damien Holt from Falkirk has requested an emergency meeting.”
“Tell him no.” The anger from our call still burned beneath my skin.
Silence stretched—too long, too careful.
“With all due respect, Ms.Sinclair… I don’t think that’s an option right now.”
I froze.
Sarah, who once apologized to a stapler for bumping into it. Just told me no wasn’t an option.
“Okay,” I relented. “Tell him to meet me in my office.”
