I drop my hand, the phone resting against my thigh. The relaxed, domestic energy in my posture vanishes instantly.
Audrey feels the shift. She steps back, her eyes scanning my face. "Malcolm? What is it?"
"It’s an email," I say, my voice dropping back to the cold, analytical register of the CEO. "From the Department of Defense."
Her brow furrows. "The military? Why are they emailing you?"
I look at the screen again. The text is brief, heavily redacted, and carries a level of classification that I haven't dealt with since I built the initial firewalls for Vance Security.
"They are requesting a consultation," I say slowly. "They have a vulnerability in their internal logistics network. They want me to build a patch."
"I thought you resigned."
"I resigned from Vance Security." I set the phone down on the counter. "I did not surrender my security clearance."
Audrey looks at the phone, then back at me. She doesn't look panicked. She looks incredibly, terrifyingly calm.
"Are you going to take the job?" she asks.
I look around the penthouse. I look at the blueprints on the counter, the throw pillows on the sofa, the life we have built in the ashes of my father’s empire. I have peace here. I have quiet.
But as I look at the encrypted email, a familiar, dark hum of anticipation begins to vibrate in the back of my skull.
I am a problem solver. I am a tactician. I can sit in this apartment and manage investments, but it will never quiet the instinct that was bred into me.
"It is a massive logistical challenge," I murmur, my eyes meeting hers. "It would require establishing a new firm. A new infrastructure. Completely independent from the Vance name."
"A new firm." A slow smile spreads across Audrey’s face. She leans back against the counter, crossing her arms. "You mean you would actually have to leave the apartment and stop hovering over my blueprints?"
"I would still hover."
"I’ll take my chances." She reaches out, her hand covering mine on the marble counter. "Build it, Malcolm."
I stare at her. "You are not concerned about the risk?"
"The Department of Defense is not your father," she points out logically. "They are a client. You are the best in the world at what you do. Why shouldn't you do it for yourself?"
She is entirely correct.
I turn my hand over, my fingers wrapping around hers. The vintage diamond presses against my skin.
"I will need an office," I say, my voice low.
"I can design one for you." She tilts her head, her eyes flashing with a sharp, professional challenge. "My rates are very high."
"I can afford you."
"We’ll see."
She pulls me down by the collar of my shirt, kissing me hard. It is a kiss full of promise, full of the absolute certainty that we are no longer surviving. We are building.
I pull back, my thumb brushing against her lower lip.
"Get your coat," I tell her.
"Why? I have a site visit at one."
"You have a site visit at one. Right now, we are going to look at commercial real estate." I step back, picking up my phone and sliding it into my pocket. "If you are going to design my new headquarters, you need to see the space."
