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I knew the interview would work, but only six hours after it aired, the King Corporation's stocks are already up 4.2 percent, and the court of public opinion on social media is trending positive. It’s not a huge jump, but it’s proof that my plan is working, just like I knew it would. Having concrete evidence to show Sebastian and the board feels like a victory.

I lean back, letting my toes curl into the plush rug beneath the table. I stretch my arms over my head, reveling in the feeling of success.

“Graham Sterling sent a glowing email. I don’t know if you saw it.”

Bolting upright, I clap my hand over the shriek that erupts at the sound of the low voice cutting through the night’s silence. My heart is still hammering in my chest when I turn and realize Sebastian is standing in the open doorway to his office.

“What the fuck?” I gasp. “You scared the shit out of me!”

Sebastian’s mouth curves into a rare smile, revealing those even rarer dimples that make my knees weak. He doesn’t feel the least bit bad for startling me. In fact, he’s enjoying it.

“Graham Sterling sent a glowing email,” he repeats, leaning against the doorframe. He’s ditched the blazer and the tie, and his sleeves are rolled up to reveal forearms that never fail to cause a flutter in my chest. “He used the words ‘excellent’ and ‘just might work.’ That’s high praise coming from him.”

I’m still glaring at him. “Who the hell is Graham Sterling?”

“A board member.”

Sebastian casually pushes away from the doorframe, and the air in the room suddenly feels twice as warm. His attention is fixed solely on me, his eyes tracking me in a way I can feel physically. But it’s not the way he looks at me in the bedroom. It’s not a predatory hunger, it’s something softer, more appreciative.

“What are you doing here? I thought you had a business dinner.”

“I did have a business dinner, but I forgot my tablet on my desk.”

“Why didn’t you just send someone for it? I’m sure you have a million lackeys.”

“Lackeys?” He laughs, the corners of his eyes creasing in a way I’ve never noticed before, another thing that makes this titan of New York appear human. “You make me sound like a movie villain. I have staff, yes, and I have people to run errands for me, so I can spend my time on more important things. But I had a feeling you would still be here.”

He stops just in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head back to look up into his face.

“So?” My voice has no bite, and it’s far too breathy for my liking, but I can’t seem to help myself.

“So.” He looks down at me, my heartbeat quickening. “It looks like I was right.”

“The board is satisfied for now, and things are looking up,” I say, trying to regain my footing. “But we have to capitalize on this small win.” I nod toward my laptop screen. “I want to roll out the human capital initiative by Monday. Not so fast that it looks like a PR stunt, but fast enough that it looks like a mandate.”

I’m desperate for something—anything—to take this moment in another direction. I don’t know why. We have our agreement. But something has shifted subtly, so quietly, I’m not even sure it’s really there. I could be imagining it, but I swear the electricity between us has changed from something explosive and volatile to something uncertain and softer.

He watches me for a moment longer, then steps away and wanders over to the wall of windows, looking out at the expanse of the bright city lights below. “I agree,” he says to my reflection in the glass. “I’ve already drafted a list of the internal policy changes. I just have to get them approved by the board and my father, which might not be easy, but I think I can sell at least half of them. And then I want to do a town hall. No teleprompters, no video cameras, no moderators. Just the staff and me.”

I blink. “A town hall? That’s risky.”

“I know. Like I said, I know it’s not going to be easy or gentle. But it needs to happen if I’m going to take this new direction seriously, if I’m going to show people that I’m taking this seriously. Actions speak louder than words, as they say,” he adds with a soft chuckle.

Sebastian doesn’t turn around. He looks like a king surveying his domain as he continues to stare out the windows.

Despite the fact that this is my plan, I still feel thrown off. I might have said all those things about the future to make people believe him, but I didn’t expect him to fully get on board. I expected him to act the part, to put on a great show until the scandal blew over. I realize now that I never actually believed Sebastian would see the light, that he would recognize things needed to change. That he needed to change.

“So,” he says, finally turning around, “we’re both here. What else do we need to get done?”

He joins me at the small conference table, my laptop, tablet, and several sheets of paper spread out across it. For the next three hours, the friction that usually defines us is replaced by a smooth, powerful current of productivity. We are, for lack of better words, a brilliant, synchronized team.

“If we shift the R&D budget here,” he says, pointing to another spreadsheet, “we can fund the childcare subsidy without touching the dividends.”

“And if we frame it as an investment in long-term retention,” I add, “the analysts will swallow the short-term dip in cash flow.”

He looks at me and laughs.

“What?” I ask, my cheeks heating.