Page 104 of Just The Way You Aren't

Perfect. I can check my messages again. Maybe call Willow. Just to make sure she arrived safely, of course.

As everyone rises from their seats, Steven catches my eye. "Damien, would you mind joining me for a moment? I'd like to show you something in my office."

I follow him down a corridor lined with framed posters of Guardian Productions' most successful children's films. His office is surprisingly modest for a CEO of his stature—comfortable but not opulent, with photos of his family prominently displayed.

Steven closes the door behind us. "All right, what's going on?"

"What do you mean?" I ask, though I suspect I already know.

"You've been checking your phone every five minutes. Your attention is clearly elsewhere." He leans against his desk, arms folded. "Last week, you were laser-focused on this deal. Today, it's as though you'd rather be anywhere but here."

I consider how to respond. The old Damien would deflect, pivot to business, maintain the professional facade at all costs. But something about Steven's direct approach disarms me.

"I had plans this weekend," I find myself saying. "Important plans."

"And we pulled you away from them." Steven nods, understanding. "I'm sorry about that. But this deal represents hundreds of millions of dollars for both our companies. I assumed it would take precedence over any other matters."

"It should," I agree. "That's what I've always believed. Work first. Everything else second."

"And now?"

I hesitate, uncertain how much to reveal. Steven Walt is, first and foremost, a business associate. A client. Yet he's alsoone of the few people who's seen Willow's effect on me firsthand, when she unexpectedly joined that crucial meeting and completely transformed the dynamic.

"Now I'm not so sure," I admit.

Steven studies me for a long moment. "This is about Ms. Harper, isn't it? The lovely young lady from Silver Hearts."

I nod, surprised by his perceptiveness.

"I figured as much," he says with a small smile. "I saw how you looked at her that day in your office. It was rather obvious you’re smitten with her."

Was it? Had I been that transparent?

"I was supposed to meet her family this weekend," I say, the words feeling strange in my mouth. "In the Catskills. She was expecting me at her apartment this morning when I had to call and cancel."

Steven raises his eyebrows. "Meeting the family? That's significant."

"It would have been the first time I've ever done that," I acknowledge. "With anyone."

"And instead, you're here with us. And Alfred." He grimaces at the mention of Rothchild's name.

"I'm where I should be," I say automatically, the response ingrained from years of prioritizing business above all else. But even to my own ears, the words sound hollow.

Steven's expression softens. "Can I offer some unsolicited advice?"

"At this point, why not?"

"Guardian Productions is, at its core, a family business," he says. "Yes, we've grown beyond that in many ways, but the fundamental values remain. My sister and I make time for what matters. Business is important, but at the end of the day, it's just business."

I consider his words. "That's not how I was raised. My father taught me that the company always comes first."

"And how did that work out for him?" Steven asks gently. "Was he happy?"

The question catches me off guard. Was my father happy? I'm not sure I ever stopped to consider it. He was successful, respected, feared in some circles. But happy? The word seems foreign when applied to Carter Langley.

"I don't know," I admit.

"What about you, Damien? Are you happy?"

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