Page 26 of Worth the Risk
I should say no. Photos of Declan and me dancing will fuel every piece of gossip and speculation already circulating. But something in his expression—hopeful, slightly nervous, like he’s asking for permission to be part of our documented history—makes the decision for me.
“Of course,” I tell Carlo.
Declan’s arm tightens around my waist, and I rest my hand on his chest as Carlo snaps several photos. We’re not posing for romance exactly, but there’s intimacy in the way we stand together that will be obvious to anyone who sees the pictures.
“Perfect!” Carlo grins as he reviews the photos. “These will look great in next month’s newsletter.”
After he leaves, Declan and I remain standing close together. The festival continues around us—families sharing food, teenagers learning traditional dances, elderly community members telling stories about the Philippines—but I’m acutely aware of the man beside me and the dangerous territory we’re exploring.
“I should go check on the kitchen,” I say, needing space to process everything that just happened between us.
“I’ll see if Tita Sol needs help with cleanup.”
We separate, moving in different directions through the crowded main hall. But as I help Rosa organize leftover food and coordinate volunteer schedules, I’m hyperaware of Declan’s presence across the room. I catch glimpses of him stacking chairs, carrying supplies, engaging in what appears to be serious conversation with Tito Ricky.
He fits here, I realize with a start. Not perfectly—his clothes are too expensive, his background too privileged, his world too far removed from our daily reality. But he’s making an effort to understand, to contribute, to be useful rather than ornamental.
And that’s more dangerous to my carefully guarded heart than any amount of corporate charm or strategic maneuvering.
8
It’ssix AM and I’m in my office, staring at the photos Carlo took at Highland’s festival. In the pictures, Maya and I look intimate. Natural. Like we belong together.
Which is exactly the problem.
The past three weeks have blurred into something far beyond professional partnership. Evening computer classes where I help Highland’s seniors while Maya coordinates programming. Late-night research sessions that turn into conversations about everything except development strategy. Shared dinners at Highland’s community table, where Rosa treats me like family and Tita Sol asks pointed questions about my intentions.
Somewhere between teaching Mrs. Santos to video-call her grandchildren and helping Maya troubleshoot Highland’s ancient heating system at ten PM on a Thursday, our careful professional boundaries dissolved completely.
And last Friday night, in Highland’s storage room surrounded by twenty years of community history, I kissed Maya Navarro like my life depended on it.
Now I have a board meeting in three hours where Harrison will expect an update on our “Highland situation,” and I can’t stop thinking about the way Maya felt in my arms, the soft sound she made when I pressed her against the shelving, the way she looked at me afterward like we’d crossed a line we can never uncross.
Because we had.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Maya:
Morning meeting still on for 8 AM? I have the final financial projections ready.
Maya. Even her text messages make my pulse quicken, especially now that I know how she tastes, how perfectly she fits against me.
Declan:
Yes. Highland or Pierce Enterprises?
Maya:
Highland. I’m already here working on the presentation materials.
Of course she is. Maya probably arrived before dawn, coffee in hand, putting finishing touches on research that could save her father’s legacy.
Declan:
See you at 8.
I arrive at Highland to find the main hall transformed back into its weekday configuration—folding tables for after-school programs, art supplies for children’s classes, computers for job training. But there are small changes I’ve started to notice—a new coffee maker Rosa insisted we needed, updated lighting in the conference room, my business cards sitting near Highland’s front desk like I belong here.
