He lifted his head. “Now we’re recalibrating in real time. Every adjustment hits cost, schedule, investor confidence.” His jaw tightened. “If I can’t stabilize this soon, share price will reflect the doubt.”
Bea kissed his hair and slipped out of his hold. He let her go, reluctantly, but kept watching.
She found his jacket from yesterday, flung over the chaise, and checked the pocket. As suspected, inside was the Christmas voucher book she’d made him. He’d already cashed in most of them with great pleasure: One Song Sung Just For You. One Unlimited Plate Night. One Massage. She still flushed remembering how quickly that one had escalated.
She flipped until she found the one she wanted:
One Workday Mascot (Quiet Bea included).
“Feel like redeeming this today?” she asked, placing it on his keyboard.
“Don’t you have a memo due?”
“I do,” she said as he drew her back between his legs. “But I also have two junior analysts. They’ll survive a day without me.”
“I’ll be in meetings all day.”
“I know.”
“I won’t be good company.”
“I don’t need to be entertained.” She wrapped both hands around his jaw. “I can’t fix anything. I just want you to feel me there.”
Something let go in his shoulders. He leaned in and kissed her tenderly, finishing with a small bite on her bottom lip. “Go get dressed.”
Rafael had moved the entire Malaysia project team into his office so she wouldn’t be out of sight. Bea was comfortably tucked on the soft leather lounge, present but peripheral, while he held the room together with sheer force of will.
A foreman sat among suits, a face she recognized as one of the workmen Rafael, Laurent, and Max had shared a beer with at a nearby pub, in workboots and a dust-marked GV jacket. When his turn came, he spoke without slides, without polish. He knew exactly what the difference between ‘compliant’ and ‘safe’ was on a live site.
When he was done, one of the senior leaders said, “Field input is noted. But this has evolved into a capital markets issue.”
“Capital follows performance,” Rafael said evenly. “Performance starts on site.” The authority in his voice went straight to her stomach, warm and immediate.
The clock kept moving. Numbers and clipped directives threaded through the room while she read. Lunch arrived in neat catered boxes from the Korean place she’d recommended. He watched her lift her fork, take a bite of bibimbap, chew, and swallow. Only then did he turn back to the screens, dissecting site plans with two managers.
The boxes emptied around the room. Assistants cleared containers. No one interrupted him. Bea rose quietly, grabbed one of the untouched boxes, and went to the kitchen. Themicrowave hummed, and when she opened the door, steam unfurled.
She returned and set the warm rice at his place with a bottle of sparkling water. She ran a hand along his back as she walked past. Rafael paused to watch her curl back onto the couch. He reached back, took the box, and ate it standing.
By mid-afternoon Bea realized that twelve people at that table were focused on salvaging the project. One of them was focused on Rafael.
She’d taken the seat that was usually Laurent’s because he was in New York handling the other front. Her hair was done up so high and tight it resembled a facelift. She was tall and competent, yet used a babyish voice that was all sugar and upward inflection, like she’d read somewhere it made men lean in.
Bea’s eyebrows twitched at the subtle reaches of familiarity. She grazed a hand on his arm as she gestured to the screen. Once, she adjusted his mug like that right belonged to her. Rafael never shifted his focus.
The voucher said mascot. Not assassin, mascot.
BEYA SLAYA: I might need bail money.
CLAIRE BEAR: I only need one kidney.
CLAIRE BEAR: Who are we burying?
BEYA SLAYA: Before I commit a crime
BEYA SLAYA: Question, hypothetically.
BEYA SLAYA: If someone keeps touching your husband in a boardroom
