Page 16 of Executive Privilege (Event Horizons Agency #1)

The flight back to Austin is a different kind of torture.

Nicholas sits beside me in first class, reviewing Morrison Industries content on his laptop with the focused intensity of someone who definitely isn't thinking about yesterday's emotional meltdown. Professional. Distant. Completely back in control.

But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way he's gripping his coffee cup too tightly, the careful way he's avoiding any casual contact that might bridge the space between our seats.

"The Morrison campaign exceeded expectations," he says without looking up from his screen. "Morrison was particularly pleased with the executive content and retreat documentation."

"Good," I reply, matching his professional tone despite the way my chest aches. "That should position us well for future opportunities."

"Exactly."

This is what we're reduced to now. Corporate speak and careful distance, like we didn't have desperate sex in a cabin two nights ago. Like he didn't tell me about falling from a tree at twelve years old and learning that the people who should protect you don't always come when you call.

Like I didn't tell him I care about him and watch him retreat behind walls so high I can barely see him anymore.

My phone buzzes with a text from Emma: "Flight lands at 2 PM, right? Can't wait to hear about the 'business trip.' Have details ready."

I glance at Nicholas, who's still determinedly focused on his laptop, and type back: "Might not be much to tell."

"Uh oh. That doesn't sound good. Emergency sister dinner tonight?"

"Maybe."

The plane touches down in Austin under gray skies that match my mood perfectly. Nicholas and I collect our bags and walk through the terminal in the kind of polite silence that screams unresolved conflict.

"I'll have Sangeeta compile the Morrison deliverables for client review," Nicholas says as we reach the parking garage.

"She's on vacation, remember?"

He pauses, running his hand through his hair. "Right. I'll handle the compilation myself."

"I can help with that."

"That won't be necessary."

The dismissal stings more than it should. "Of course. Wouldn't want my work to compromise your standards."

Nicholas stops walking and turns to look at me, something flickering in his expression. "That's not what I meant."

"Isn't it? Or you just don't want to work with me on it anymore."

I think I see a crack in his composure. Then the mask slides back into place.

"Sadie, I think it's best if we keep our interactions strictly professional going forward."

"And what about everything else? The hotel rooms, the cabins, the conversations about things that matter?"

"Those were mistakes."

The word hits like a physical blow. "All of it? Everything was a mistake?"

Nicholas is quiet for a long moment, and I can see him fighting some internal battle. "The professional relationship works, Sadie. It works well. You're brilliant and Event Horizons needs you. Everything else just complicates things unnecessarily."

"God forbid anything complicate your perfectly controlled existence."

"You don't understand—"

"No, I understand perfectly. You're scared. You're scared of caring about someone who might actually stay, so you'd rather push me away first and control the narrative."

"This isn't about fear—"

"Bullshit." The word comes out sharper than I intended, echoing off the concrete walls.

"This is entirely about fear. You're terrified that if you let someone close enough to matter, they might disappoint you.

So you'd rather stay isolated in your hotel suite and pretend that professional success is enough. "

"Maybe it is enough."

"Is it? Because to me it looks like someone who's been alone too long and is tired of pretending he doesn't need anyone."

Nicholas's jaw tightens. "What I need is to focus on Event Horizons and maintain appropriate relationships with my employees."

"So that's what I am now? Just an employee?"

"That's what you've always been."

The lie is so obvious it's almost insulting. "Right."

"Physical attraction doesn't change professional hierarchy."

"And emotional connection? What does that change?"

"There is no emotional connection."

I stare at him, this man who held me in a cabin in Texas and told me about the worst day of his childhood, and I realize he's actually going to stand here and lie to both of us.

"Fine," I say finally. "If that's how you want to play this, fine. Strictly professional it is."

"Good."

"Great."

We stand there for another moment, and I can see something like regret flicker across his expression before he controls it.

"I'll see you Monday morning," he says.

"Bright and early. Wouldn't want to compromise my professional obligations."

Nicholas flinches slightly at the sarcasm, but doesn't respond. He walks to his car without looking back, leaving me standing alone in the parking garage with the echo of everything unsaid.

I sit in my car for ten minutes after he drives away, trying to process what just happened.

The worst part is that I understand why. I saw the look on his face when he fell from that climbing wall—not fear of physical injury, but terror of being vulnerable.

Understanding doesn't make it hurt less.

My phone rings as I'm driving home. Emma's name appears on the dashboard.

"Please tell me you're calling with good news," she says instead of hello.

"Define good news."

"News that involves your mysterious boss realizing he's crazy about you and doing something romantic and dramatically inappropriate."

"Then no. Definitely not good news."

"Emergency sister dinner is officially activated. My place, seven o'clock. I'll order Thai food and provide wine."

"Emma, I don't really want to talk about—"

"Seven, Sadie. Don't make me come get you."

She hangs up before I can argue, which is probably for the best. The last thing I want to do tonight is sit alone in my apartment thinking about Nicholas Blackwood and his determination to push away anyone who might actually care about him.

***

Emma's apartment is exactly what you'd expect from someone who works in graphic design—colorful, slightly chaotic, and filled with art projects in various stages of completion. She takes one look at my face when I arrive and immediately hands me a glass of wine.

"That bad?" she asks.

"Worse."

"Okay, from the beginning. What happened in Dallas?"

So I tell her. Not everything—some details are definitely not appropriate for sister conversations—but enough to paint the picture. The retreat, the climbing wall, Nicholas's childhood story, the aftermath.

"Wait," Emma interrupts when I get to the airport conversation. "He actually said you were just an employee? After everything you described?"

"He said physical attraction doesn't change professional hierarchy."

"What an asshole."

"He's not an asshole. He's scared."

"Scared assholes are still assholes. Being damaged doesn't give you permission to hurt other people."

I take a large sip of wine and consider this. "He's not trying to hurt me. He's trying to protect himself."

"By hurting you. Which makes him an asshole."

"It's more complicated than that."

"Is it? Because from where I'm sitting, it sounds like you told a man you care about him and he responded by pretending you don't exist."

"He has trust issues—"

"Everyone has trust issues, Sadie. That's not an excuse to treat people like disposable objects."

The Thai food arrives before I can argue further, but Emma's words stick with me through dinner. Is she right? Am I making excuses for Nicholas because I understand his trauma, or is there actually a difference between explanation and justification?

"Can I ask you something?" Emma says as we're finishing our pad thai.

"Shoot."

"Do you actually think he cares about you, or do you just want him to?"

The question stops me mid-bite. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you're incredibly good at seeing patterns and reading people, but you're also incredibly good at talking yourself into believing what you want to believe.

So I'm asking: based on his actual actions, not your hopes or interpretations, do you think Nicholas Blackwood genuinely cares about you? "

I think about the midnight emails, the expensive coffee that was exactly how I like it. The way he worried about me driving home late. The trust in his voice when he told me about his childhood accident. The way he held me in bed.

"Yes," I say finally. "I think he does care. I think that's exactly why he's pushing me away."

"Okay. So assuming you're right, what are you going to do about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean are you going to accept his decision to keep you at arm's length, or are you going to fight for what you want?"

"Emma, he made it pretty clear—"

"He made it clear that he's scared and doesn't know how to handle caring about someone. That's not the same as not wanting to care about someone."

I stare at my wine glass, considering. "So what are you suggesting? That I ignore his clearly stated boundaries and push for something he says he doesn't want?"

"I'm suggesting that sometimes people say they don't want things because they're afraid of wanting them too much. And sometimes, if you care about someone, you have to be brave enough to fight for them even when they're too scared to fight for themselves."

"That sounds like a recipe for professional disaster and personal humiliation."

"Maybe. Or maybe not."

After I get home, I sit on my couch with a second glass of wine and think about Emma's words. About fighting for what I want versus respecting Nicholas's boundaries. About the difference between being persistent and being pushy.

My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number: "Sadie? This is Diego Morales, Nicholas's friend. We met at the gallery opening. Could you call me when you get a chance? It's about Nicholas."

I stare at the message, my heart rate accelerating. Diego texting me about Nicholas can't be good news.

I call immediately.

"Sadie," Diego answers on the first ring. "Thank you for calling back so quickly."

"Is Nicholas okay? Did something happen?"

"He's fine. Physically. But I'm worried about him, and I think you might be the only person who can help."

"I don't understand."

"He came by my studio tonight. Unannounced, which never happens. Wanted to buy a painting—something dark and abstract that I finished last year. A piece about isolation and self-imposed exile."

My chest tightens. "Diego—"

"He looked terrible, Sadie. Exhausted and angry and hurt. When I asked what was wrong, he said something about maintaining appropriate professional boundaries and learning from past mistakes."

"He doesn't want to talk to me. He made that very clear."

"What he wants and what he needs are two different things. That man has been alone for too long, and for the first time in a long time, he found someone who makes him want to be less alone. That terrifies him."

"So what am I supposed to do? Force him to acknowledge feelings he clearly wants to deny? Force him to couple up with me when he'd rather be alone."

"I don't think he want to be alone, he just chooses to because he thinks it's safer. For him and his company."

"His company? Why would–"

Diego cuts me off, "I shouldn't have said that. There's more to Nicholas than you know. The reason why he is, well, the way he is. It's his story to tell though, not mine."

"All I'm saying is you need to decide whether you care enough about him to fight for him when he's too scared to fight for himself."

The same words Emma used. The same impossible choice.

"He could fire me," I point out. "This could destroy my career."

"It could. Or it could save both of you from a lifetime of wondering what if."

After we hang up, I sit in my apartment trying to decide what kind of person I want to be. Someone who respects clearly stated boundaries and accepts rejection gracefully? Or someone who recognizes when someone she cares about is acting from fear rather than genuine preference?

Someone who plays it safe, or someone who climbs walls that look impossible?

By midnight, I've made my decision.

Tomorrow, I'm going to show Nicholas Blackwood that some people are worth the risk of falling. Even if—especially if—he's too scared to see it himself.

The question is whether I'm brave enough to follow through, or whether my own fear of professional and personal disaster will make me retreat into the safety of appropriate boundaries and polite distance.

But as I drift off to sleep, I think some people are worth fighting for.

Especially when they're fighting against themselves.