Page 126 of Suite 7

Lisa is objectively gorgeous. Sleek dark hair, tailored navy dress, perfect posture, a warm smile she doesn’t have to manufacture. She extends her hand. Firm grip. No hesitation.

“Vera! So good to finally meet you properly.” Her handshake is firm. “Sloane talks about you constantly. Your PR work sounds fascinating.”

“Thanks. Sloane mentioned you two work together?”

“Same firm, different departments. I handle corporate branding.” She laughs, genuine, easy. “We actually almost ended up on the same Alderton pitch last year. Different agencies, different briefs — I heard your firm’s narrative strategy was what closed it.”

She’s exactly who Sloane described.

I want to push her into the nearest architectural model.

“Small world,” I hear myself say.

“There’s Kane!” Sloane waves him over.

He approaches. Lisa’s posture shifts, barely, but I see it. She angles toward him. Her smile brightens.

“Lisa.” He shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Two seconds. Maybe three. Long enough.

Then his gaze slides to me. “Vera.”

My name. Low, with the slight rasp that lives under his professional voice. My skin flushes.

“Sinclair.” I take a sip of champagne.

“I read about the Harwick Cultural Center,” Lisa says to Kane. “The adaptive reuse approach — converting a decommissioned textile mill into a performance space. That’s not an obvious solution.”

She did her homework. Older project. Not the one everyone leads with.

“The bones were there,” Kane says.

They look good together. Both polished. Both speaking the same language. Both uncomplicated.

My champagne sits flat on my tongue.

“They’re perfect together, right?” Sloane whispers in my ear.

I make a noncommittal sound.

Kane glances at his watch. “I should make the rounds. Excuse me.” He nods to Lisa. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

“Of course.” Lisa watches him go.

When he’s out of earshot, Sloane turns to her. “Well?”

Lisa tilts her head, still looking in the direction he walked. “He’s very interesting.”

Something tightens in my chest that I have no right to name.

“Isn’t he?” Sloane says.

“I’m going to do a little networking.” Lisa touches Sloane’s arm. “I’ll find you before the end of the night.” She smiles at me. “Lovely meeting you, Vera.”

She walks away. Poised. Unhurried.

“See?” Sloane grins, turning to me the moment he’s gone. “Perfect for him.”