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Terms of Surrender

Page 43

by Nicole Gregory

“Please do,” Kevin said. “Right next to Davidson’s face.”

“Speaking of,” David added, “did you send it to him?”

“I did,” I said. “He read it, shrugged, and asked if they could move faster.”

Kevin groaned up at the ceiling. “I hate that man.”

“Get in line,” I muttered.

“So what now?” David asked. “Is pushing Falkirk’s timeline even an option?”

“No,” Jennifer said immediately. “That would be… ill-advised.”

“Suicide,” Kevin translated.

I agreed. “They get their update when Holt sends the agreement. Not before. If Davidson wants a call in two weeks, I can read the same email out loud.”

“And if he throws a fit?” Kevin asked.

“Then he throws a fit.” I shrugged with false confidence. “We’re not blowing a viable partnership so he can feel powerful for fifteen minutes.”

David’s brows rose, then settled. “Fair enough.”

My phone buzzed against my palm.

Read: How did it go?

The whiskey warmth shifted sideways, making room for the easier heat that came with that question. I set my glass on the desk and typed.

Me: The meeting itself went really well. Holt’s team committed to a written two-month timeline. They sent a recap email within five minutes.

Read: That sounds incredible. I knew you’d crush it.

Me: Investor call after was… less great. They keep moving the goal line. Want proof I can make Falkirk move faster than they already promised to.

Read: Of course they do.

Across the room, Kevin’s voice drifted over.

“What are ballet flats?” he asked Jennifer. “Like… tiny ballet shoes? Because all I see online are ribbons and bruised toes.”

“Oh, my god,” Jennifer muttered. “Give me your phone.”

Me: Asking Falkirk to accelerate again would wreck our leverage, but they don’t care. They just want speed.

Read: Then you don’t ask. You’re in the trenches. They’re not. Trust your gut.

Me: That’s the plan.

Read: Anything I can do from this end?

My fingers hovered as I considered.

Me: Not really. Just… keep texting me like this.

Read: I can absolutely do that. How’s the internal chorus?

Me: Quieter than last time. I used your five-senses trick before the meeting. It worked.