Page 88 of Sexting the Billionaire

"What's happened?" I ask, alarm rising. "Is it the Milan production issue?"

"No." His tone is clipped, professional. "Grant Industries filed a patent claim against one of our upcoming Lumière designs. The one with the interlocking hardware."

My stomach drops. "That's impossible. My team developed that in-house. There's nothing remotely similar in their line."

"Nevertheless, they're claiming priority, with documentation." Roman won't quite meet my eyes. "The board wants an emergency session to discuss options."

"Then I should be there," I say, already reaching for my purse. "I'm the Creative Director. I can confirm the timeline of development?—"

"That won't be necessary," Roman cuts me off. "This is a legal issue now. The board will handle it."

The dismissal hits like a slap. "The board. Not me. Even though it's my design, my department."

"Cassie." His voice softens slightly, but his decision is clearly already made. "It's precisely because it's your design that you shouldn't be involved in this particular meeting. The board needs to discuss this objectively."

"Objectively?" I repeat, heat rising to my face. "As in, without the emotional designer mucking things up with actual facts about the design process?"

"You know that's not what I meant."

"Do I?" I realize we're having our first real fight in front of my sister, but I can't seem to stop. "Because it sounds remarkably like you're cutting me out of decisions about my own work because we're sleeping together."

Roman's expression closes off entirely, CEO mask firmly in place. "We can discuss this later. In private."

"Of course. Because the boardroom and the bedroom are entirely separate." I hate the bitter edge in my voice, but Mia's earlier concerns have hit a nerve. "Go handle your emergency board meeting. I'll take my sister home."

"Cassie—" Roman begins, but I'm already turning away, pulling Mia from her chair.

"It's fine. I understand completely. Business comes first." I force a smile that feels brittle enough to crack my face. "Call me when you're done saving the company."

As we walk out into the cool night air, Mia loops her arm through mine. "So... that went well."

"Don't start," I warn, the anger already draining away, leaving a hollow ache in its place. "I shouldn't have reacted that way. It was unprofessional."

"It was human," Mia corrects gently. "And honestly? I'm glad I saw it."

"Glad you saw me pick a fight with the CEO in a public restaurant?" I laugh humorlessly. "Why?"

"Because it proves you're not just nodding along with whatever he wants." Mia stops, turning to face me directly. "You stood up for yourself. For your work. Even knowing he could fire you tomorrow if he wanted."

"He wouldn't," I say automatically.

"I know. That's why I'm less worried now." Mia squeezes my hand. "You clearly have real feelings for each other. And real conflicts. That's... normal. Healthy, even."

"We've never fought before," I admit quietly. "Not like that."

"Maybe it's overdue, then." Mia flags down a passing taxi. "First fights are important. They show you who someone really is—not when things are good, but when they're hard."

As the taxi pulls away with Mia inside, her words echo in my mind. Who is Roman when things are hard? The man who shut me out of that meeting with clinical efficiency? Or the man who's spent months encouraging me to trust my vision, to stand my ground?

Both, probably. Just as I'm both the woman who fought for her professional dignity and the one currently fighting back tears over a business disagreement.

My phone buzzes with a text. Roman:

Meeting will run late. We should talk after. Can I come by your place?

I stare at the message, emotions warring within me.

Part of me wants to ignore it, to punish him for dismissing me. But that's not who we are.

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