Page 27 of Breadwinner
Sarah held her gaze, stubborn and lovely and so easy to read. She could practically feel the effort it took for Sarah to stay still under the weight of the invisible boundaries of their game that were little by little revealing themselves.
“But if it helps ease your mind,” she continued, her voice dropping lower, “tonight, I want to observe you. I want to see how you listen, how you carry yourself. And, when the room tries to steal your attention away from me, how well you remember who you belong to.” A faint flush crept up Sarah’s neck as Nell spoke. “You won’t be left guessing,” Nell promised.
Sarah visibly gulped, and Nell nearly lost her mind. The anticipation building between them was delectable. “If I want your hand on my arm, I’ll let you know. If I want your eyes on me instead of the room, I’ll let you know. And...” Nell paused for dramatic flair, letting the moment sit just a little longer, pleased by the way Sarah’s breath caught slightly. “... if I want you in my bed afterward, you’ll know that, too,” she finished, with a cunning smile.
Sarah’s lips parted, but no words came out. Hunger—or was it longing?—crossed her face, sending a satisfying thrill through Nell as she watched Sarah box up the last pieces of her control and set them aside. This was the side of Sarah she had been so eager to draw out. The side of Sarah that didn’t fight, didn’t hide, didn’t pretend she didn’tcravethe structure, the permission, the chance to please. Naturally, her suspicions had been correct.
“For now,” Nell said, “your job is to go upstairs, find what I’ve laid out for you, and get dressed. You have thirty minutes.” She paused, letting her gaze rake deliberately down Sarah’s body. “After that, come find me.”
Sarah swallowed visibly but nodded once. Nell smiled again, then, without waiting for a reply, turned on her heel and left Sarah standing there. The weight of Sarah’s eyes trained on her the entire way down the hall.
Andrew Brennan’s estate was a sprawling home made of glass and weathered stone set high above the dunes. It loomed above the water, a place where old money built family secrets into the foundation. Inside, the gathering unfolded in low murmurs as attendees made polished power moves between new-moneybillionaires and people with surnames older than the US Constitution.
Nell stood near the edge of the open living space, relaxed, one hand casually resting on the back of a leather chair. Completely in her element as she watched the room, cataloging faces, relationships, and rivalries.
Sarah stood by her side, elegant in a simple black dress, hair tucked behind one ear and a delicate gold chain catching at her collarbone. She was breathtaking, but Nell hadn’t brought her here just because she was pretty. She’d brought her to see if she could belong. If Sarah could fit into the spaces of her life no one else had been able to.
“If someone asks who I am to you, what do I say?” Sarah muttered, leaning toward her, eyes still scanning the room.
“No one will ask. Everyone here knows it’s none of their business.” Nell spotted a familiar figure across the room and turned back toward Sarah. “Are you ready for rule number two? Confidence will get you further than certainty,” she murmured, sliding her hand to the small of Sarah’s back, nudging her forward. “Come. There are people here I’d like you to meet. Represent us well.”
Even as Sarah nodded steadily, Nell caught the tiny shift in her breath as they approached the cluster of figures by the fireplace. The group consisted of two venture capitalists Nell barely tolerated and, standing slightly apart, Angela Dupree—civil rights attorney, Nell’s mentor, and the woman Nell trusted most to see straight through anyone.
Angela turned as they approached, her smile broad and warm.
“Nell Stanhope, as I live and breathe,” she said, her southern drawl coming out as she pulled her into a quick, familiar hug that Nell tolerated. Nell had never been one for hugs. “And thismust be the infamous Sarah Gallagher,” Angela said, turning her attention to Sarah.
“You know who I am?” Sarah asked, slipping smoothly into the space and extending her hand.
Angela took it in both of hers. “I make it my business to know who the rising stars are,” she said. “I run a foundation that funds legal challenges against anti-trans laws, Title IX rollbacks... the fights people think don’t matter because it doesn’t impact them, until they find out the hard way it eventually does.” Angela’s tone was light, but the weight behind her words was impossible to miss. She squeezed Sarah’s hand, then glanced at Nell, almost conspiratorially. “You interested in intersections, Ms. Gallagher?”
Sarah held her gaze without flinching. “I’m starting to be.”
“Good.” Angela’s smile widened, all teeth and approval. “Smart, privileged women like ourselves have a responsibility to widen the lanes we’ve claimed.”
Angela released Sarah’s hand, nodded once at Nell, and that was all the approval she needed. She watched as Angela turned, already drawing another small group toward her as she moved across the room.
Nell let the silence stretch before looking at Sarah, who, for the most part, was composed and thoughtful, still watching Angela’s retreating figure.
“She’s . . . interesting.”
“You get used to that.” Nell laughed and let her hand skim the small of Sarah’s back, light enough to remind, not steer. “Come,” she said softly. “A few more hands to shake.”
As they moved through the room, she noticed the way Sarah responded to conversations now without needing to be told. The right smile. The right silence. The right moment to speak. She had becomeefficient—a quick study, which was not surprising at all.
As the evening progressed, the party thinned, and conversations wound down, signaling their cue to leave. Nell led Sarah to the exit. As they waited for the valet to bring the car around, she found herself entranced by the way the glow of the lights from the house caught Sarah’s eyes, illuminating the rosy color in her cheeks. She lookedalive.
“You did well tonight.”
Sarah lifted an eyebrow, playful but composed. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”
“No,” she said simply. “But I enjoy confirmation. Don’t you?”
“I do, yes.”
The weight of Sarah’s gaze on her was steady and assessing, sparking against her own as they held eye contact. This had been a test, and Sarah had passed. But what lodged deeper in her chest wasn’t only the satisfaction of having chosen correctly; it was the exhilarating knowledge that Sarah was capable, dangerous, and powerful in the same ways she was—that knowledge excited her. Nell had always liked playing with fire.
The drive back to her house was filled with an electric silence. Nell glanced at Sarah, whose hands were folded neatly in her lap, her cheeks still glowing faintly from the praise of the evening, a blur of streetlight and dark glass behind her. Nell made a split-second decision.