Page 9 of Just My Luck

“Mr. Mylonas,” Sterling said, rising smoothly from his leather chair and extending a hand. If he recognized us from the rooftop lounge, he didn’t let it show on his face. “Welcome to the Apex. I’m Christian Sterling. My team tells me Gold Standard Media has a rather ambitious vision for Onyx.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sterling,” I said, gripping his hand firmly, matching his handshake pound for pound. “We appreciate the opportunity to show you what GSM can do for your portfolio.”

Sterling’s sharp eyes drifted past my shoulder, locking instantly onto Nova. His lips curved into a slow, highly intrigued smile—the exact same look he’d given her when she was wearing that emerald green dress.

“And you must be Miss Clark,” Sterling murmured, his tone polite but laced with a hidden layer of pure amusement. “I was informed that you’d be joining us during this visit.”

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Sterling,” Nova answered smoothly, her voice entirely professional as she stepped up beside me without a single hint of hesitation.

“Please, sit,” Sterling said, gesturing to the empty seats across from his small army of executives. “Let’s see if your presentation lives up to the reputation.”

An hour later, the boardroom doors had barely clicked shut behind us before I let out a breath I felt like I’d been holding since the meeting had started.

The pitch had gone incredibly well. I had easily gone through my planned pitch, and Nova had been flawless, stepping in and hitting every metric and tracking a few asset-scaling questions without missing a single beat. We’d held our own against his wall of seven gray-suited executioners, and for the first time all morning, I felt the heavy knot in my stomach start to loosen. We actually had a real shot at landing this account.

We were halfway down the plush, quiet executive corridor heading toward the elevators when the heavy mahogany door behind us reopened.

“Mr. Mylonas. Miss Clark,” a smooth, cultured voice called out.

I stopped, my shoulders tightening instantly as I turned back. Christian Sterling was walking toward us, his hands casually slipped into the pockets of his tailored trousers. He’d dropped the formidable, stone-faced persona he’d held at the head of the boardroom table, replacing it with the same effortless, predatory charm he’d exuded on the rooftop lounge.

“Mr. Sterling,” I said, keeping my tone strictly professional as he stopped a few feet away. “Did we leave something behind?”

“Just a bit of formality,” he said, a slow, easy smile playing on his lips. He nodded, but his focus immediately drifted away from me. His sharp, eyes locked onto Nova. I watched the corporate barrier completely vanish, and the predatory rival from the night before stepped right into the sunlight. “Please, lose the ‘Mr. Sterling.’ When we’re outside the boardroom, everyone calls me Kit.” He said the last with his eyes on Nova.

“Kit,” Nova repeated with a smile. I felt my back teeth clench.

“I have to say, Nova,” Kit murmured, his voice dropping into that low, intimate purr that made my jaw grind. “Your analysis on our metrics was spectacular. It’s rare to find someone who understands the luxury hospitality market with that kind of precision. And, if I may say so, your presentation attire is just as captivating as the emerald green dress you wore last night.”

Nova blinked, a small caught-off-guard smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you, Kit. I believe in being thoroughly prepared.”

“Clearly,” Kit said, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he openly, unashamedly flirted with her right in front of me. He took a half-step closer, entirely ignoring my existence for a second. “I’m hosting a small, private dinner tonight at Prime’s, the vintage lounge inside the VIP wing. Very exclusive, excellent wine. I’d love for you to join me, Nova. I think we have a lot more to discuss regarding your vision for Onyx.”

My chest tightened, a hot, territorial anger burning through my veins. Before I could step between them and politely decline on her behalf, Kit glanced my way, a look of pure, competitive amusement flashing in his eyes.

“And, of course,” Kit added, his tone conversational, almost like an afterthought, “you’re more than welcome to tag along too, if you’d like to join us.”

Tag along. Like I was her chaperone. Like I wasn’t the senior account executive leading the damn pitch for GSM, my family’s business.

I clenched my fist inside my pocket, forcing my face to remain an unreadable, professional mask while every protective, jealous instinct I possessed screamed at me to pull Nova against my side and walk away. Kit Sterling wasn’t just testing his luck anymore. He was actively trying to take what was mine—even if Nova didn’t know she belonged to me yet.

The elevator ride up to the penthouse was a study in suffocating silence.

“Tag along,” I muttered, the muscle in my jaw practically twitching as I stared at the digital floor indicator rising rapidly. “The guy literally looked at me like I was your paid bodyguard.”

Nova let out a soft laugh, shifting her binder under her arm. “Oh, come on. He was just being hospitable. Plus, it’s a private dinner at Prime’s. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get a table there? This is a massive win for GSM. We are in his inner circle after just one pitch.” She almost squealed it.

“He doesn’t want GSM in his inner circle, Nova. He wants you,” I said dryly, turning my head to look at her. The protective roar in my chest hadn’t quieted down one bit. “He was openly hitting on you right in front of your supervisor.”

Nova rolled her eyes, but a tiny hint of a flush crept up her neck. “I am perfectly capable of handling a little corporate flirtation if it secures the biggest contract that GSM has seen in years. I told you, I’m playing for keeps on this trip.”

The elevator chimed, saving me from saying something entirely too honest.

We agreed that we both needed a break, so we retreated to our rooms and changed into something more… us. When I walked back out into the sitting room ten minutes later, I’d swapped my tailored suit for a pair of comfortably worn jeans, a plain black T-shirt, and an unbuttoned red-and-black flannel. The jacket had been too heavy last time.

Nova emerged a second later, and my chest squeezed once again. She’d let her hair down and looked effortlessly beautiful in a pair of fitted blue jeans, a simple white tank top, and bright red Chuck Taylors. She looked exactly like the girl I’d spent my entire youth falling in love with.

“I feel much better,” she declared, bouncing slightly on her sneakers. “Now, take me somewhere that doesn’t serve food under a silver dome. I want grease.”