Kind.A woman known for kindness.
Nothing like me.
I manage a grunt. “Fine.”
But she keeps looking at the screen, frowning slightly. “She seems… good for you.”
Good for me? She has no idea.
“No one is ‘good’ for me, Zatanna.”
Her eyes lift, soft and steady on mine—not frightened, not intimidated. Curious. “You don’t know that.”
My throat tightens.
She really doesn’t understand who she’s talking to.
Her gaze lowers again to the tablet. “I did my best. I hope it helps.”
Something about the way she says it—quiet, sincere—makes my jaw clench.
“You did well,” I say.
Her face lights up. Like those three words mean something.
She looks away quickly, as if embarrassed by her own reaction, and it hits me in the chest with surprising force.
I don’t deserve that look. I don’t deserve anything from her.
But fuck if I don’t want it anyway.
She clears her throat. “I should… get back to work.”
“Zatanna.”
She stops in the doorway, turning slightly. Her eyes meet mine.
I shouldn’t say anything. I shouldn’t want anything. I say it anyway.
“If I’m late to this dinner,” I murmur, “I expect you to remind me.”
Her breath hitches the faintest bit. She nods once. “I will.”
And she leaves—quiet, quick, like she’s afraid to stay too long yet can’t quite force herself to run. The door closes behind her.
Silence settles in the boardroom again.
I drag a hand over my face. I should cancel tonight. I should fire her. I should do anything other than let this spiral further.
But I know it the moment she walks out:
I’m going to that dinner.
And I’m going to spend every second of it thinking about the woman who set it up.
By the time she comes back to my office that evening, I’ve almost convinced myself not to go.
Almost.
