“Which you’re very good at protecting.” I close my notepad. Done.
The room exhales. A few chairs creak.
She smiles. Not friendly. Interested. “Noted,” she says. “We’ll revisit once compliance weighs in.”
I nod once. Roxy blooms with praise. It’s deserved. But I keep offering her wins, and she doesn’t take them.
Goddammit.
She turns back to the board, dismissing me with the efficiency of someone who doesn’t need the last word.
Stubborn woman. The dance is getting tiring. Something sharp and electric coils in my chest.
She wants a war. Or maybe I do.
Either way, I find myself looking forward to it.
And that… that is the problem.
Because for the first time since I walked into this building, I’m not thinking about my father.
I’m thinking about her.
And I don’t remember choosing to.
Chapter 9
Roxy
Ihate Liam Stone.
I despise the way his forehead creases when he is thinking, forming an attractive line between his eyebrows.
I can’t stand how effortlessly unstyled his perfect hair is. Or how his muscles bulge under the luxurious cotton of his expensive shirts.
He isn’t kind by any stretch of the imagination, but he commands the room with such effortless authority.
I hate how attractive he is. And I despise myself for having noticed all these little details about him. My pulse annoyingly agrees, most of the time.
And I hate him the most right now.
Liam fucking Stone wraps up his presentation, and one thing is clear.
It’s better than mine.
A small, petty part of me wishes it weren’t. The honest part knows it is.
He accounted for contingencies I didn’t even realize existed. He outlined a scenario that addresses all the issues I couldn’t possibly have anticipated.
And his presentation style?
Fuck.
My stomach drops, like my body is agreeing before my brain can protest.
A man who is as dry as the Sahara Desert, and repels the world with his bored expression, changes completely when he stands in front of a crowd.
Said crowd consists of Cal, Corm, and a few senior managers. I’m not even there, and I know they are impressed.
