Chapter 27 #2
“Shall I inform the chief?”
Gage reached for Bea’s soy-sauce dish, tipping in a precise amount of wasabi. He stirred, then slid it back to her. Added two pieces of sushi to her plate without breaking conversation.
“I’ll handle it. You can go directly to Zurich.”
She nodded, eyes tracking his movements subtly.
Some part of his mind realized it was the kind of unspoken care that most people in this world had never seen from him. Certainly not his assistant.
She snapped the folder shut and finally turned to Bea. “Miss Cruz.”
Bea lifted a brow. “You know me.”
Her lips curved politely. “I know everything that matters to him.”
Gage noted the statement. She wasn’t wrong, but she was overreaching. “Bea, this is my assistant, Victoria.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Victoria said. After a brief pause, she added, “I can’t say I’ve had the opportunity to be introduced before.” The words were neutral. But the meaning wasn’t.
“Guess he’s changed,” Bea said, tone light.
In that same moment, Gage reached for Bea’s glass and adjusted it closer. Deliberate. A reminder. Victoria’s gaze flickered to his hand, then back. She understood.
“It appears he has,” Victoria said, eyes sharper now. She looked to Gage. “I’ll make the adjustments for your two p.m. call.”
“And cancel dinner,” Gage added. “I’m leaving early.”
That earned a quick swipe of Victoria’s gaze toward Bea, before she nodded. She turned, heels sharp against the floor, disappearing as smoothly as she’d arrived.
“She’s impressive,” Bea observed.
“She’s efficient.”
“You’ve got plans tonight?” Bea asked, looking a little hopeful.
He leaned back, just slightly. “My girlfriend’s having me over.”
“Lucky girl.”
He shook his head, once. “Lucky me.”
Oh, how she blushed. Her eyes dropped, just for a second. Like she couldn’t quite hold his gaze without feeling it. Any man who said he didn’t enjoy the sight of his woman’s blush was a liar.
“Who’s the chief?” she asked, clearing her throat.
“My father. He’s still CEO.”
“Ah.” Her gaze landed on the closed folder on his desk. What was inside mattered. And yet, it sat untouched.
Gage watched her realize. That despite a volatile week and escalating international negotiations, he’d made time. For her.
He swallowed his sushi. “What are you thinking?”
Bea put some seaweed onto his plate. “That you order good sushi.”
“I’ll bring something good tonight, too.”
Dinner had been easy. Warm and unremarkable in the best way. Gage had brought pad thai and duck curry from a Thai place she liked near his office, and they’d talked about nothing important while Ed Sheeran crooned low in the background. Georgina was out, supposedly letting Hunter catch her again.
Now she sat on the floor beside the couch, her laptop open in front of her, the soft glow of the screen lighting her face.
Her inbox had been quiet all week. Not anymore.
Monaghan & Stowe.
Subject: Your Application Status – Thank You for Your Interest
Her heart skipped. Then dropped.
She clicked.
“We were impressed with your application and appreciate your interest in Monaghan & Stowe. At this time, we are moving forward with candidates who more closely align with our institutional pipeline and internal referral networks.”
She read it twice. Then again.
Her throat burned.
She’d asked Nico’s mother, humbly, to vouch for her. A real recommendation, one that she’d earned.
It had felt honest. Like maybe this time, it wasn’t about power.
She closed the laptop. Pressed her palm against the lid, as if pressure could make the rejection vanish. But the tears came anyway, stubbornly. She didn’t even realize they’d fallen until one slid down to her wrist. She swiped at her face fast, just as Gage crossed the room.
He set the mugs down, crouching beside her. Not saying anything at first. Just…there. Always impossibly steady.
He studied her face, the tension in her jaw, the raw pink around her eyes. “What happened?”
She laughed, brittle. “Apparently I’m unemployable in Northgate unless I put your name on my application.”
He was silent for a moment. “So why didn’t you?”
She looked at him, the image of him blurry from her tears. “I didn’t want it to be…yours.” She sniffled. “I wanted it to be mine.”
He didn’t answer right away.
He considered her. Like he could see every reason behind the words, every crack in her pride. “You didn’t lose because you weren’t good enough,” he said, voice gentle, but firm. “You lost because you refused to play the game.”
“Why do I have to play the game at all?”
“Sweetheart, in the UR, men and women aren’t the same. But they are equal. You want to succeed here?” He reached out and covered her hand with his. “Don’t apply like a man. Apply like a woman.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means you lead with your value, not your independence. You show them who you belong to, then they understand the cost of overlooking you.”
Bea said nothing.
“It’s not weakness. It’s how this world works,” he said rationally. “And you’re smart enough to use it.”
Bea accepted the cup of tea from him, and sipped quietly for a while. Thinking.
He sat beside her, waiting.
She realized she’d been seeing the world on a single axis—like the stronger he got, the weaker she became.
But maybe, in the UR, they moved on parallel lines.
His power didn’t diminish hers. It ran beside it.
She could still rise. But she didn’t have to do it alone.
When she finally leaned into him, she rested her head on his shoulder.
Gage didn’t shift. He remained a steady presence at her side, like he’d stay there as long as it took.