Page 15

Even if it kills me.

***

The office has quieted to a late afternoon hush as I stare at the email from the Johnsons, the words blurring together after my twentieth read:

Impressive presentation... innovative approach... discussing internally... decision by the end of the week...

I’ve analyzed each word choice for hidden meaning like it’s a coded message rather than a standard post-meeting courtesy. I’d feel pathetic except that I’ve built my entire career on finding patterns others miss.

“Earth to Emma!” Natalie appears in my doorway with two cups of coffee. “I’ve been watching you read that email for ten minutes. The words aren’t going to change.”

“They might.” I accept the coffee gratefully. “Maybe if I stare hard enough, ‘discussing internally’ will transform into ‘absolutely yes, please revolutionize our sustainable analytics immediately.’”

“Pretty sure that’s not how emails work.” She perches on my desk. “Though, based on what I heard, you didn’t need any email magic. You and Lucas were quite the dynamic duo.”

I try not to think about his hand on my back, his breath on my ear, the way we moved in perfect sync. “We were professional.”

“Uh-huh.” Natalie’s grin spreads slowly, knowingly. “So professional that Mrs. Johnson asked Sophie if you two were engaged.”

“She what?” I nearly choke on my coffee.

“Something about the way you finish each other’s sentences. And how he looks at you when you’re talking about sustainability metrics.”

“He does not—”

“Like you hung all the stars in the sky? Yeah, he does.”

I remember the exact moment at James Walker’s retirement party when Lucas had looked at me that way. We’d been discussing my ideas for what would become Project Phoenix,and I’d been gesturing wildly with a champagne glass while explaining the potential market applications. He’d watched me with an expression I couldn’t quite define – like wonder mixed with something deeper, more personal. Then he’d led me to the balcony, away from the crowd, and said there was something he needed to tell me.

“It’s not...” I trail off as my phone pings with a new message from Lucas:

Excellent work today. It was a very impressive presentation. The board meets at 9 AM tomorrow to vote on Project Phoenix funding. Please have the final numbers ready.

My heart sinks. Even his texts sound like they’ve been vetted by corporate HR. The warmth from our presentation has vanished, replaced with cold professionalism.

“Oh, honey.” Natalie reads the message over my shoulder. “Men are idiots. Especially CEOs who think being icy will somehow make them better leaders.”

“It’s fine.” I set my phone face-down. “He’s right. We need to stay professional. The board votes tomorrow, the Johnsons are still deciding, and Brighton’s probably already plotting their next move. Personal feelings would complicate everything.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

Before I can respond, Sophie breezes in, bringing her signature energy into the room. “Just had a fascinating chat with Mrs. Johnson. Apparently, you two were, and I quote, ‘absolutely electric.’ Though she seemed concerned that your obvious chemistry might affect business decisions.”

“We don’t have—it’s not—” I sputter, feeling heat crawl up my neck.

“Save it for someone who didn’t spend two years watching you pine over my brother’s LinkedIn updates.” She drops into my visitor chair, crossing her legs decisively. “Though I have to say,his current ‘strictly professional’ act is new. Usually, he’s better at hiding his feelings.”

“He’s not hiding anything,” I protest. “He’s being a responsible CEO who—”

My phone pings again. Another message from Lucas:

The tie you straightened earlier? Just noticed there’s a coffee stain. Thought you’d appreciate the irony.

A more personal message. Almost like old times. My heart lifts as I start typing a response, fingers flying across the screen. Then his next text arrives:

Apologies. That was inappropriate. See you at tomorrow’s board meeting, Ms. Hastings.

And just like that, the wall comes back up. Professional distance restored. The emotional whiplash leaves me momentarily speechless.