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Something in his tone—a subtle edge of calculation—makes my stomach tighten. “What scrutiny?”
My father's smile is smooth and empty. “The usual. You wouldn’t understand. Go play scientist, son. Leave the rest to the grown-ups. Don’t forget I’m still the one signing your checks.” He jabs a finger toward the ceiling, which presumably is where his patience lives. “If you had any sense, you’d have married Kara already.”
“We are not in the fucking Middle Ages, and you are not a capo,” I say evenly. “You can’t arrange a merger with my love life because it looks tidy on a balance sheet. Kara and I agree on exactly one thing: we don’t love each other.”
“Love is for pea brains,” he says with the grim satisfaction of a man quoting scripture. “Marry Kara. Stabilize the board. And stop embarrassing us. Or else.”
“Or else what?” I ask, my voice dangerously soft.
He smiles, small and nasty. “We’ll see what my investigator turns up on your little water nymph. You won’t like what I already see.”
I stand. “You’re wrong.” At the door, I glance back. “You’ll see.”
My pulse is still too high, my thoughts too loud as I leave my father’s office and head for Kara’s. She’s at her desk, hair in a hasty knot, sleeves rolled to her elbows. Spotting me right away, she quickly closes a file on her laptop with the reflexes of someone who’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
“Hey,” I say, leaning against the doorframe. “You look guilty. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she says too quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Just… a project. You know how it is.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t have to cover for me, Kara. If it’s stress from the merger talks, I can help.”
Her smile is fond. “You can’t help with this one, Everett. Trust me. It’s better if you don’t.”
That tight, careful tone tugs at me, but Kara has always had her secrets—and her reasons. If I didn’t trust her so much, I’d push for more. But I don’t because she’ll tell me when she’s ready.
We’ve known each other since we were kids, our parents locking us into the same future before we knew what we wanted. Shareholders, social climbers, the whole damn power play. The expectation was marriage. The reality turned out to be friendship.
She’s more sister than fiancée, the one person who can trade barbs with my father and survive it. The fact that she’s stressed makes me uneasy.
“If you need anything—”
Kara cuts me off with a wry grin. “Go. Be charming with your mystery girl before your dad finds a way to ruin that too.” She pauses. “In fact, I’ll come with you. I could use a break.”
Back in my office, the air is different, lighter and warmer, the way a room feels after a good joke. Ariel’s laughter curls through it like aromatic steam from a mug. Kara perches on the arm of a chair, relaxed, as Ricky tells a story with his hands. Ariel’s eyes light up as she sees me, and something rearranges itself in my chest to make room for these new emotions.
I drape my jacket over my chair. The move earns me a once-over from Ariel that sends heat up my neck.
“So, where are you taking Ariel for dinner?” Kara asks, entirely too innocent. “I’ve got fires to put out and will be late, and Ricky needs an early night after playing triage nurse. Also,” she adds, with faux-casual authority, “Doctor’s orders said rest. A quiet dinner is very restful.”
“I can do dinner.” I aim for blasé and land somewhere in hopeful Labrador.
“Start with clothes,” Kara instructs. “Take Ariel shopping.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I grab my jacket again, grinning despite myself. “Anything else? A spreadsheet? Color palette? List of acceptable hemlines?”
“No,” Kara says indulgently, her smile fond. The look she gives me says, Go. I’m rooting for you. It’s the most generous kind of blessing.
I look back at Ariel. She’s watching me with that soft, dazzled smile that should come with a warning label. She steps closer, nervous courage in every line, and slides her hand into mine.
It feels like the click of a seatbelt. Like the pause between inhale and exhale, where everything is quiet and true.
My father thinks she’s a problem to be solved. The lab thinks she’s a curiosity. My heart thinks she might be the horizon—the line I’ve been sailing toward my entire life.
