Page 140 of Double Down

But even as relief spreads, the other truth slides in beside it: he’s testing me. I can feel the yardstick in his gaze, the quiet calculation—how far will she go, how long will she last. The warmth of his approval tangles with the prickle of being measured, and the knot they make in my chest is its own kind of heat.

I file it away, because it matters. Wanting the nod doesn’t mean I’ll dance for it. Wanting it and knowing I’m under a microscope at the same time—that’s the charge I’ll burn the next time the ground shifts under my feet and I have to choose who I am.

Atticus checks his watch—an old habit, not a need. “We still have Danner to handle. If he’s the supply valve, he’ll feel the pressure from Langford vanishing. He’ll make a mistake.”

“Good,” I say. “Let’s make his mistake our winning hand.”

Maverick drags a hand through his hair. “Before or after I apologize to the marble for almost redecorating it with a senator’s face?”

“After,” Phoenix says, dry. “The marble didn’t deserve that.” The tiny edge of humor looks good on her. It makes it look like the girl from the pool deck grew claws again.

We break. Conrad peels off to shepherd the senator toward the exit with PR velvet ropes and security distance. Atticus drifts toward the server closet like a tide moving out. Maverick heads to the pit with a smile he doesn’t mean. I angle Phoenix toward the door.

In the hall, quiet for three steps, she tugs my sleeve. “Storm.”

“Mm.”

“Don’t…use that video unless you have to.”

I meet her eyes. “I had to today.”

She nods, once. “I know.”

I should say I’m sorry. I’m not. I’m sorry there was a need.

In the corridor outside the elevators, a cocktail server I recognize—Lena, cat-eye liner and ballet-flat glide—comes around the corner with an empty tray. Her gaze skims Phoenix’s oxblood leather, the dagger-heeled pumps, the red mouth, then flicks to her face.

I brace myself. Girls can be catty, and here, where the Titans are perceived as a prize to be won…they’re exceptionally so.

I’m surprised when Lena simply gives Phoenix a small, deliberate nod—like a salute—and a genuine, slight small. There’s no smirk, no gossip-girl once-over.

Beside me, I feel Phoenix’s entire body relax. She returns the gesture—a smile, and her chin tipped in acknowledgement. No words pass between them. But when Lena moves on, I feel something shift, and maybe click into place.

Maybe…just possibly…the staff are starting to clock Phoenix as someone who matters, someone who means something to us.

That’s important, because she is.

Downstairs, PR flanks the lobby with warm bodies and warmer smiles. Through the glass, I watch Langford steer Mrs. Hat toward the doors. The bachelorette girls clap like a flight just landed. Security pretends not to smirk. The doors whisper shut.

Atticus’s text hits the group thread like a bomb.

Atticus

Langford departing. Statement queued. Danner’s cell pinged in two locations in the last hour—harbor district and midtown. Choosing a tail now.

I text back, ready.

Storm

I vote harbor. Midtown’s a decoy. He’ll hug the river when he’s scared.

Con

Do not engage until we have a room and know there are no cameras.

Atticus

I know a room.