Before I can protest, he gently squeezes my waist and starts guiding me across the ballroom floor straight toward my mother.
My stomach flips nervously as we approach. Mom turns when she sees us, smiling brightly.
“There you two are!”
“We just wanted to tell you goodnight,” Jayce tells her with a charming grin. “Sutton’s heading back to Colorado with me tonight, so we should get going.”
My mom blinks in surprise.
“Oh? Already?”
“She has her presentation in a few days,” he continues. “I want to make sure she’s well-rested and focused. I promise we’ll come spend a long weekend here in New York very soon.”
His tone is calm, respectful, but there’s an underlying finality to it that makes it clear the decision has already been made.
Mom studies me for a moment, then, to my surprise, her expression softens.
“Well,” she says with a small sigh. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.”
Relief loosens the knot in my chest.
Jayce’s hand remains steady at my back as he thanks her politely and we say goodbye to the rest of my family before he steers me away again.
Only when we reach the doors of the ballroom do I finally glance up at him.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
His gaze meets mine.
“Of course I did,” he says.
Jayce and I leave to find his waiting car. As we’re driven to the airstrip, I rest my head against his shoulder, my eyelids fluttering as sleep tries to claim me. When we get to the airportand board the jet, it’s quiet and dimly lit. I curl into a seat, the hum of the engines strangely soothing as we take off.
Jayce drapes a blanket over me.
I look up at him, smiling softly. “Thanks for always taking care of me, Jayce.”
He reaches down and brushes his fingers along my cheek, before running his hands through the teal of my hair before whispering, “Always, Starling.”
He takes the seat next to me, and the last thing I feel is his hand covering mine as I fall asleep, the lights of New York disappearing beneath the clouds.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR: HOPE
SUTTON
The next fewdays slip by, and suddenly, it’s the night before my presentation. Everything is ready. My presentation is perfect and I know it back to front. Every detail has been accounted for.
Yet, I’m still restless, anxiety thrumming through me, making it impossible to sit still. I pace the length of the penthouse’s balcony. Even the gorgeous view of the twinkling city lights and the cool, fresh breeze can’t distract me from my racing thoughts as I ponder everything that could possibly go wrong tomorrow.
What if I’ve overestimated the appeal of my plan? What if my schematics are wrong and my credibility is entirely undercut? What if Romero regrets giving me this chance?
God, I hate this. I’ve been so confident until now. So sure of myself and my ability to do this. I kept trying to convince myself I could speak in front of a crowd and not panic, but now I can’t stop thinking about all those eyes on me… judging me. Waiting for me to fail.
I can’t let my parents down. I can’t let myself down.
But I’m going to, aren’t I? Fuck, I’m going to fail. I can’t do this. Fuck, fuck, fuck, I can’t!
Why did I think I could just get over my fear? This is why Dad has never believed I could run the company, and why Mom worries about me so much.
