Page 38 of For the Plot
The door swings open behind me, and someone walks in. She steps back instantly, grabbing her coffee and brushing past me like nothing happened. I stay there, frozen, her words circling my head like smoke.
I’m not here to make your life harder.
Too late. You already have.
The conference room is full,which should work in my favor. That means noise, movement, other bodies to distract me. But all I can focus on is her.
She sits across the long walnut table, legs crossed, tablet in hand, her focus sharp and unrelenting as she listens to our CFO walk through the quarterly burn rate. She hasn’t looked at me once since the kitchen.
That should make this easier… but it doesn’t.
She’s wearing a sleek black dress with long sleeves and a modest neckline, and somehow, it’s more dangerous than if she’d shown up in lingerie. It hugs her body, accentuating her nipped waist and round hips. The hem hits just above the knee. High enough that when she shifts in her chair, I catch the barest glimpse of thigh.
My throat tightens and I feel a slow burn start to work its way up my chest. This isn’t good. This is, in fact, really fucking bad.
I don’t look again. I force myself to focus on the numbers. The deal on the table. The projections. The risk exposure.
But then Leo speaks.
He cuts in just as Nathan finishes a slide, his voice quick—too eager. “We can clean up the Q2 legal line by reallocating some of the Morven counsel overflow. Skye can probably loop in with Ops—handle the admin on that side, right?”
I blink. She blinks.
For a moment, the room stills. Skye turns her head toward him, that measured, polite expression firmly in place. “I’ve already reviewed the Morven contracts. If we reassign oversight to Ops, we lose leverage on the rep-and-warranty clause. I’ll flag the memo for you.”
Leo blinks, clearly caught off guard. “Oh—I didn’t realize you’d taken point. I figured you were still more of a… community assistant.”
Her laugh is quiet. Quick. Nervous. I can tell she’s trying to brush it off, but her shoulders tighten just enough for me to see it. To feel it.
I lean forward, my voice smooth but unmistakably perturbed. “She’s not a community assistant, Leo, and you damn well know that. She’smyassistant. And she’s overseeing the legal side of the Morven acquisition because I trust herjudgment, so if you have an issue with that, you can take it up with me.”
The silence that follows isn’t loud, but it hums. Leo’s eyes flick to mine, startled. Then down to his notes.
Skye glances at me, brief but telling. There’s gratitude in it. Surprise, too. Maybe even a little heat she’s trying not to show.
I avert my eyes before I give too much away. Before I forget that we’re in a room full of people and not alone. Not yet.
Leo chuckles awkwardly, scribbling in his notebook like he’s trying to disappear. “Right. Of course. My bad.”
She turns back to her tablet, unreadable. But I can feel the shift. The weight of the moment hanging between us. I shouldn’t care. But I do.
Because the men in this room don’t see her clearly. They don’t know what she’s capable of. Not yet. But I do. And I won’t let anyone, not even some overconfident analyst with a shiny MBA, make her feel small.
Not on my watch.
“And that brings us to the Bradley acquisition,” Jen says from across the table, snapping my attention back. “We’re waiting on final language from their legal team, but they’re stalling.”
I nod. “Keep pressure on them. Loop in Curtis to push timelines if needed.”
Beside me, Skye straightens. “Sorry—who’s Curtis?”
Her tone is calm, even but curious. Engaged.
“Lead counsel,” I say. “Out of our Chicago office.”
“Got it.” She types something into her iPad, fast and precise.
She’s sharp. Present. The only person under forty in this room who actually listens more than they speak. Maybe that’s what bothers me about her; she’s good, too good, and it doesn’t give me any room to be angry at her or pissed. Instead, I’m stucknoticing all the little things about her that make me want to drown in her.
