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She studies me over the rim of her cup. “Interesting.”
“What is?”
“You’ve smiled three times this morning.”
“Mmm.”
She follows me into the corridor without another word, which lasts all of five steps before curiosity wins. “You know,” she says, “I’ve been very respectful.”
“Oh?”
“I saw the two of you disappear from the party together and asked absolutely nothing.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I appreciate that.”
“I’ve waited an entire week.” She sighs dramatically. “Do you know how difficult it’s been pretending I didn’t see anything?”
She bumps my elbow with hers. “The important question isn’t who.”
I look across at her.
“It’s whether he makes you happy.”
That catches me more than I’d expected. “I… there isn’t anything…” I shake my head. “I don’t know what…”
“Does he?”
“Yeah.”
Her grin softens. “Good.” We reach reception, and she checks the time on her watch before looking back at me. “After the launch,” she says. “Wine. Full debrief.” She starts towards the lifts, then turns back with a smile that tells me she isn’t quite finished. “One piece of advice.”
“What?”
“Try looking at the presentation more often than you look at him.”
“I look at the presentation.”
She laughs. “I’ve seen you look at spreadsheets. Trust me, there’s a difference.”
The conference floor is alive with people weaving between display stands, rolling presentation screens into place and carrying enough cables to rewire Manhattan.
Marketing fusses over banners that looked perfectly straight five minutes ago, IT circles the demonstration stations with laptops tucked beneath their arms, Sales rehearses talking points while Security checks guest credentials against the registration list.
Every conversation carries the same determined optimism people adopt when they’re trying very hard not to think about how much is riding on the next few hours.
I love launch days. Hundreds of moving parts, hundreds of tiny decisions, and somehow everything has to come together at exactly the right moment.
“Emma.”
I look up as Bane crosses the lobby with Theo beside him, both of them cutting through the constant movement as naturally as if they’d planned the route in advance.
Bane’s jacket sits perfectly across his shoulders, Theo has already abandoned his tie somewhere between the elevator and reception, and together they look every inch the executive team clients expect to see.
“Morning,” Bane says.
“Morning.”
My reply comes easily enough until our eyes meet, and every sensible reminder I’ve been giving myself since I walked into the building suddenly requires a lot more effort to remember.
