Fuck.
I stop in front of the elevator bank, my reflection catching in the brushed steel. My jaw is tight. My hands curl into fists.
I can’t let her sell them, but if I stop her, I might lose her.
I turn away and walk out of the building as fast as I entered, my phone already in my hand.
All I have to do is make one call.
And once I do, there’s no undoing it.
Chapter 30
Roxy
“Do you need anything else?” I put my head inside Corm’s doors.
“How many times do I have to remind you, this is your company? You don’t need my permission to leave.” He stands up and puts on his jacket. “In fact, I’m fucking off as well.”
I made it. I’m a partner. The word still feels unreal in my mouth.
It cost me more than I care to admit, but it’s all been worth it.
“Any plans for the weekend?” Corm asks as we step into the elevator.
“Apartment hunting, and then a dreaded family meeting.” I shiver at the idea.
The first scares me, because things betweenme and Liam are progressing without my explicit consent. Or maybe without my resistance.
In a sense, we became experts at avoidance. The careful kind. Measured. Polite. Considerate to the point of suffocation.
Liam gives me space. And me? I don’t know how to step into it.
The later weekend commitment is worse, though. Our families are meeting to discuss the nuptials. God help me.
“That sounds like fun.” Corm smirks. “Have you ever found out what Stone’s agenda was at Merge?”
“Me,” I respond to fuck with him, but as the word slips out, its effect lands in my stomach. I expect irritation. Indigestion. Anything but this.
A kaleidoscope of butterflies launches amok.
Jesus.
“I regret I asked,” Corm mutters, and rushes outside the elevator, marching past Liam with a curt nod.
My fiancé stands, leaning his shoulder against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. A sin wrapped in a suit with a fuck-it attitude.
The sight is arresting. I wish my body would keep up with my brain and understand we need to keep the walls up.
But lately, I’m not sure if even my heart is on my side anymore.
He pushes off the wall and prowls to me with measured steps, owning the room. The butterflies tickle around.
“Ready?” He kisses my cheek.
“Not really.”
He frowns. “We can reschedule.”
