Page 87 of Falling For My Ex's Older Brother

"Analyst level. Enterprise tech focus. It would mean leaving the EA role." She holds my gaze.

"I wanted to bring it to you formally. You're my employer. You deserve to know directly and professionally before I make any decisions."

I read the summary. I take my time with it — not because I need to, because she deserves the same attention I'd give any significant professional matter.

The role is right for her. It's more than right. It's the kind of position that requires exactly the combination of skills she's been building — the operational intelligence, the ability to read a room, the depth of knowledge about the enterprise landscape she's absorbed over the past several months. Clara Reeves is not a woman who makes offers out of politeness. She made this offer because Sutton earned it.

I set the page down. I look at her.

"You're overqualified for theEA role," I say.

She holds very still.

"This position is a better use of what you're capable of," I say.

"Clara's firm is well-positioned, the scope is right, and the timing makes sense." I pause.

"Take it."

"You're not going to—" She stops.

"You're not going to make this complicated?”

"Why would I make it complicated?"

"Because it means I'm leaving Drake Industries."

"It means you're moving into a role that fits you better," I say.

"Those aren't the same thing." I lean forward slightly.

"Sutton. I have watched you walk into rooms for months and handle things that most people with twice your experience couldn't handle. If I tried to keep you in this role because it was convenient for me I'd be doing exactly what I've spent these months telling you I wouldn't do."

She looks at me. Something is working in her expression that she's not trying to contain.

“When you respond to Clara, negotiate well. Don't undersell yourself on the compensation." I say.

She exhales. "Okay."

"Okay," I say.

She picks up the folder. She stands. She's almost at the door when I say it.

"For the record," I say.

She turns.

"Whoever sits at that desk after you is going to have a very specific problem." I hold her gaze.

"They're going to be compared to someone who is genuinely exceptional. I'm not sure I'll be patient about the difference."

She looks at me for a long moment. Then she says,

"That might be the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Don't get used to it," I say.

She leaves. I turn back to my screen. I read the same paragraph four times.