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“Business isn’t personal, Ms. Carmichael.”
“Bullshit,” she snaps, and I blink. “Business is deeply personal to the people living paycheck to paycheck while you restructure their departments into oblivion.”
I stare at her. The passion in her eyes shouldn't be attractive. It shouldn't make heat pool in my stomach, shouldn't make me wonder what she'd look like with that same fire in her eyes while writhing beneath me…
“Your father seems to understand the stakes,” I say,voice rougher than intended. “Perhaps you should follow his lead.”
“My father is a brilliant inventor and a terrible operator,” she says without flinching. “I'm the one left trying to salvage things.”
I don’t respond. Because I know she’s right.
“You’re not going to steamroll me,” she adds. “You’ll get your deal, maybe. But not without a fight.”
My pulse kicks. I want to grab her. Kiss her. Ruin her lipstick and her resolve.
“The job conversation is premature,” I say after a moment. “Nothing is finalized.”
“But it will be,” she says. “And when it is, I'll need to look those people in the eye. I need to know I fought for them.”
She's shifted closer to me, and I wonder if she has any idea what she’s doing to me. How hard I am right now.
How much I want to believe her.
How much Ihatethat I want to believe her.
But I don't.
Not yet.
My jaw tightens as I fight the urge to lean closer, to see if her lips taste as sweet as they look when they form words like ‘people’ and ‘matter.’ It would be so easy to close that gap. To claim her. Right here, right now. Take her on the boardroom table. The thought of shoving papers aside and spreading her wide snakes through my mind, and I swallow hard, pushing it all back down.
“Your commitment is admirable,” I say instead, picking up my briefcase just to keep my hands busy. “Use it to prep your team.”
I move to pass her. Our shoulders brush.
“I’ll be reviewing every clause,” she says, low and lethal. “Line by line.”
I pause at the threshold. Inhale.
“Whatever you feel is necessary.”
“Don’t expect me to make this easy.”
I don’t turn around.
“I never do,” I say. “That’s why I win.”
I walk out, leaving her in the boardroom.
Alone with her principles.
Alone with a legacy that won’t be hers much longer.
My shoulders stay squared until the elevator doors slide shut. Only then do I let out a breath. Just one. A brief, private crack in my armor.
The knot in my chest still hasn’t loosened. Neither has the tightness in my pants. The arousal hit hard the second I saw her, and it hasn’t eased a bit. Not with that voice. That scent. The fire in her eyes when she stood toe-to-toe with me like she wasn’t the one about to lose everything.
This is just business. That’s what I tell myself as the elevator hums its descent.