Her eyes track every detail, every shelf, every label, every family anecdote. She looks genuinelydelighted, as if she were born to understand places like this.
The way I’m drawn to her every move? Less delightful.
Graham finally gestures to a row of copper kettles and beams. Roxy beams back.
They’re bonding over cookware. Fucking cookware.
Her enthusiasm shouldn’t be sexy. Her patience shouldn’t be sexy. Her ability to charm elderly founders without even trying really shouldn’t be sexy.
I flex my fingers.
She gives me a sideways look, urging me to smile. I scowl harder.
She shakes her head in exasperation and then looks up at the copper kettle, eyes soft.
“Graham, this place is… special.”
Graham nods with a satisfied look, and turns to me with expectation. He wants me to confirm? And suddenly, I understand something that has nothing to do with spreadsheets or strategy.
Why we’ve been stalled for two hours. They’re testing us. They want to see if we respect their legacy. If we get the heart before the numbers.
Roxy understood all this within five minutes.
Me? I understood nothing until she smiled at a fuckingkettle.
“You’ve built something special here, Graham. You should be really proud.” I play along, and the founder nods his contentment.
He leads us toward the administration building, where an assistant offers us yet another cider.
Graham’s sons join us as we are shown into a cozy waiting room leading toward a rustic boardroom. Finally, we’re getting to the main program.
I stop at the door, letting Graham and Roxy enter first, but the older man halts as well.
He pats Roxy’s hand. “Thank you for indulging me, my dear. Why don’t you wait here while the men talk?”
Roxy stiffens beside me. No flinch. No wince. But the air around her tightens.
Graham opens his mouth, but I draw my arm back, fisting my hand so hard, my knuckles crack. How dare he?
Chapter 11
Roxy
We’re finally at the threshold of the boardroom when Graham pats my hand.
“Thank you for indulging me, my dear. Why don’t you wait here while the men talk?”
The air leaves my lungs, and suddenly, I’m the little girl always left behind when my father did God knows what with my brothers.
That same girl grew up into a woman who doesn’t let the Merged partners bully her. But no matter how much progress I make, there will always be someone like Graham who is lost in the past century. There will always be a man who will assume I am less.
Before I can decide how to respond, I feel more than see Liam drawing his arm back.
Jesus. I step closer, putting my hand on his shoulder. His muscles are hard as steel, wired with rage.
But the contact gives him pause.
Thank fucking God.
