The words hang heavy in the air between us, suspended like something fragile and dangerous. The kitchen suddenly feels smaller, the space between my frame and her diminutive form crackling with an electric tension that has nothing to do with the contract and everything to do with the raw wound she just exposed.
Her face shifts through a cascade of complicated emotions as her jaw clenches. Slender fingers tighten around the counter. But those eyes... her dark eyes betray her completely, and that vulnerability is almost my undoing.
"That's not what I—" she starts, then stops herself, clearly deciding that whatever explanation she was about to offer would only make things worse.
"I left because I needed space to build something that was mine," she says. "Not because I didn't—" She stops herself, jaw clenching. "It doesn't matter. The point is that accepting a contract like this undermines everything I'm trying to accomplish."
"How? By giving you financial stability? By providing consistent, high-value work that will build your reputation in the industry?" I lean down slightly, bracing one hand on the table beside her. "You want to succeed on your own merits. Fine.Prove it. Take this contract and execute it so flawlessly that every other tech company in the city is fighting to hire you. Use Horde Tech as your flagship client and leverage that success into building the most sought-after event planning agency on the West Coast."
She stares at me, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths.
"That's not playing savior, Romee. That's giving you a platform to showcase exactly how good you are."
"And what happens when this three-year contract ends and you decide you're done with me?" The vulnerability in her voice makes my chest ache. "What happens to my business when the CEO who's been funding my success suddenly pulls the rug out?"
"Read section twelve."
She frowns, flipping back through the contract until she finds the renewal terms. She scans the text, her expression shifting as she processes the implications.
"Automatic renewal unless either party provides notice," she reads aloud. "With a minimum rate increase of fifteen percent per term to account for inflation and agency growth."
"I'm not building you up just to tear you down," I say quietly. "I'm offering you a genuine partnership because I trust your skills and I value your work. What happened between us personally doesn't change the fact that you're the most competent event planner I've ever encountered and I want that competence working for my company."
She remains quiet for a long moment, her gaze fixed downward on the contract spread before her. The papers seem to demand all of her attention, though I suspect she's stopped actually reading them several seconds ago. Her jaw works slightly, as if she's turning over thoughts she hasn't yet decided to voice aloud.
"I need time to think about this," she finally says, and there's something almost fragile in the admission, a rare crack in the armor of absolute certainty she usually wears like body armor.
I nod slowly, acknowledging the request even as part of me wants to push, to argue, to use every persuasive tactic I've honed over fifteen years of closing deals. But something about the way she's holding herself—shoulders slightly drawn inward, fingers gripping the contract's edge—tells me that pressure now would be a mistake.
"You have until Friday," I reply, my voice measured and professional, the tech CEO reasserting control. "Same deadline I gave you for the gala proposal. That gives you three business days to review everything, consult with whoever you need to consult with, and make your decision."
She lifts her head at that, her dark eyes meeting mine with a flash of something that might be frustration, or gratitude, or some complicated mixture of both.
"Thrall—" she starts, but her voice catches slightly on my name, and she doesn't seem to know how to finish the thought.
"I'm not pressuring you. I'm giving you the same professional timeline I'd give any vendor." I straighten up, forcing myself to step back and give her space even though every instinct is screaming at me to crowd closer. "Read the contract thoroughly. Have a lawyer review it if you want. Submit questions through Joffrey if any terms are unclear. This is business, Romee. Treat it like business."
She looks up at me, her dark eyes searching my face for something I'm not sure I'm successfully hiding.
"Why did you really come here in person?"
Because I haven't been able to think about anything except you for three weeks. Because I check your new business website approximately forty times a day. Because I wake up reaching foryou in an empty bed and spend my mornings imagining what it would be like if you'd stayed.
"Because I wanted to see you," I say instead, letting just enough of the truth bleed through to make her breath catch. "And because some negotiations work better face to face. There's nuance in person. Context. Things you can't convey through email or video calls."
"This isn't a negotiation, though. You're offering me a contract. That's a unilateral decision on your part."
"Everything is a negotiation, Romee. Every conversation, every business relationship, every interaction between two people who want something from each other." I pause, watching her process that. "The question is just whether you're aware you're negotiating or not."
She huffs out a breath that might almost be a laugh, though there's no humor in it, just exasperation. "Of course you'd think that. Of course you'd frame human interaction as some kind of tactical chess match."
"You disagree?" I ask, genuinely curious now. "You operate in corporate environments. You know better than most how this works."
"I think some things should be straightforward. Clear. Not everything needs to be a strategic business maneuver or some kind of power play." Her voice drops, becoming quieter but somehow more intense. "Not everything needs to be calculated."
"Then what would you prefer?" I ask, and I'm not entirely sure I want to know the answer.
The question comes out lower, rougher than I intended. She catches the shift in my tone immediately, her eyes widening slightly as the energy in the room changes.
