Page 72 of The Contract

I take my time.

Rolling my sleeves up as I walk toward the guest room, I tell myself it’s just business. That I’m only going to check in.

I lean against the doorframe and find Elena sitting cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through her phone. Her hair is damp from a shower, the loose fabric of her silk camisole slipping slightly over one shoulder.

She looks up, eyes catching mine, and for a second—just a second—there’s something easy in the air.

Something that doesn’t belong here.

Something that feels a little too much like a routine we’ve done a thousand times. Me coming home from a long day of work. Elena, ready to hear about it while she tells me about her day.

Something I need to push to the back of my mind and bury.

“How’d it go?” she asks, tucking her phone away.

“Fine,” I say automatically.

Her brow lifts, unconvinced. “Liar.”

The corner of my mouth quirks before I catch myself.

I exhale, stepping into the room, sliding my hands into my pockets. “It was a waste of time. Adrian’s an arrogant little shit with just enough access to be dangerous.”

She hums, shifting slightly on the bed. “What’s his angle?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

I don’t know why I say it out loud.

I don’t usually think aloud, and I sure as hell don’t unpack meetings with anyone who isn’t on my payroll.

But Elena just watches me, waiting.

Unrushed.

Unbothered by the sharp edges of my mood.

And I realize—I fuckinglikethat.

I rub a hand down my jaw, exhaling slowly. “He’s not just here to observe. He wants control. Whether it’s over Calloway or the deal itself, I don’t know yet. But he’s playing a long game, and I don’t intend to let him win.”

Elena tilts her head slightly, thoughtful. “Men like him don’t play unless they think they already have an advantage.”

I glance at her, curious despite myself. “And what do you think that is?”

She shifts again, tucking a leg under herself. “Leverage.”

My silence must encourage her, because she continues.

“If I were guessing, I’d say he’s new to the boardroom, but he’s not new to the art of manipulation. He’s testing boundaries, finding weaknesses. If he sees an opening, he’ll exploit it. But he wouldn’t be here—wouldn’t bethisconfident—unless he already believes he has something on you.”

I watch her carefully.

I like the way her mind works.

How easily she reads people.

But there’s something else—something unspoken—hanging between us.

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