“Are you?”
“Jury’s still out,” she says dryly.
I watch her. The way her eyes keep darting to her laptop, then to the stack of files on her desk, and finally to the phone that hasn’t stopped buzzing since I walked in.
“What are you really worried about?” I ask.
She throws her hands into the air. “Everything.”
“Narrow it down.”
She heaves a deep sigh. “My company. My reputation. Everything I’ve built.” She gestures at the office, the view, the empire she’s carved out for herself. “The second my name is linked to yours, all of this is at risk. People will look at me differently. Clients will have questions. Competitors will smell blood.”
“You think marrying me makes you weak?”
“I think marrying you makes me a target.”
“You were already a target. The night of the gala proved that,” I say.
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“That was my father’s world. Not mine.” She stands up and walks to the window. Her reflection stares back at her, like a ghost in the darkness against the city lights. “I spent twenty-two years keeping distance between that world and this one. Tomorrow, that’s over.”
I get up and cross the room so that we’re close. Not too close. Just close enough.
“You’re not tearing anything down,” I say. “You’re adapting. That’s what you do.”
“You don’t know what I do,” she scoffs, folding her arms over her chest, her chin tilting upward.
“I know enough. From your Bloomberg profile, the manyHarvard Business Reviewinterviews. That podcast where you talked about your first failed pitch.” I shrug at the shock seeping into her features. “I told you. I read everything. Listened to everything, too.”
“Hmmm, stalk much?” she asks.
I shrug. “Well, stalking as you call it, is just my way of being prepared for anything. In my line of work, it’s the only way to survive. I like to be a step ahead of anyone who might cross my path. It keeps everyone safe.” My lips lift. “But in this case, I’m thinking I might need to be about ten steps ahead to at least level the playing field.”
She just narrows her eyes. “Reading articles isn’t the same as knowing someone.”
“No. It’s not.” I inch forward, noting she doesn’t back away. “But I know you walked into that negotiation meeting ready to tear me apart. I know you didn’t back down from my father, even when most people would have folded. I know you’re standing here at nine o’clock the night before your wedding, still working, because the idea of not being in control terrifies you more than anything else.”
Her jaw tightens. “You think you’ve got me figured out.”
“I think I’m starting to. And I think you’re not as complicated as you want people to believe.”
“That’s either an insult or a compliment.”
“Take it however you want.”
She almost smiles. Almost.
“And what about you?” She fully turns away from the window to face me. “What’s your deal, Lochlan? Why are you really here?”
I could lie. Give her some bullshit reason about logistics, about making sure everything’s in order.
But she asked me to never lie to her. And I’m already lying about too much.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just… wanted to see you.”
