Chapter 43 #2
No soft corners. No retreat.
Each corner held a team’s zone, lit like an arena. At the center, a sunken platform gleamed. Four chairs. No names. Men in dark suits lingered at intervals along the walls, almost blending into the paint, eyes sharp and movements fluid. They spoke into earpieces quietly, scanning the room.
Derek Halberg, her classmate, stood beside her, scanning the crowd. “Everyone’s here,” he noted. “All the venture-backed alumni. At least a hundred billion in net worth, just walking around.”
She scanned the room. Not everyone.
Gage wasn’t here yet.
Her team of six had been refining their presentation for the past eight weeks, ever since they’d received the invitation. Her team knew who she was dating. Had suggested, with varying degrees of subtlety, to ask him to help. Put in a good word with one of the judges.
But Bea had just shaken her head.
For the pitch, only two could present. Straws had been drawn.
Bea and Derek.
“Three more, then us,” Derek said. He turned to face her. “You’re calm.”
“I’m one skeptical look away from hyperventilating, but thanks,” Bea said with a shaky laugh.
“You present well. They’ll like you,” he assured meaningfully.
She broke eye contact. “Only if I stick to your script.”
It wasn’t overt. Derek was legacy, and too smart to press. But he stood just close enough that she could feel the quiet invitation in it.
Bea focused on trying to accustom herself to the panel from a distance.
Cassian Montenegro, slouched like he’d seen this pitch a hundred times and remembered none.
A flicker of unease surfaced—the echo of his ‘flinch test’ at Midnight they answered every one.
Finally, the lights dimmed enough to signal their time was up.
Bea stepped off the stage, vibrating with adrenaline. Derek fell into step beside her, closer than necessary.
“You carried that,” he said, gaze sweeping over her with a raw kind of admiration, like he’d forgotten to guard it.
She smiled, generous but measured. “Couldn’t have done it without your numbers.”
His hand brushed her arm. Just a second too long. Enough to know it was intentional. Something in her stiffened.
“No need to rush to him,” he murmured. “Give the win a moment to breathe.”
Her eyes lifted to meet his. Calm. Clear. “But he’s where I breathe.”
She didn’t wait for Derek’s response. Just walked straight to Gage, the path between them cutting through the crowd like a line drawn in ink.
Gage watched her approach, like it was his due. His eyes flicked to Derek. Once. A warning. Unspoken and unmistakable. Then back to her.
“Well done,” he said, when she reached him. “You held the room.”
The moment his hand touched her back, the weight she’d carried all night let go, unfurling from her spine like she’d finally been allowed to breathe out.
“Let’s get you out of the blast radius.”
Bea stepped out of the bathroom, still adjusting the sleeve of her jacket. The hallway was empty, quiet enough to hear her own footsteps.
Rafael was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets. No jacket. No tie. Shirt collar open just enough to seem dangerous. A tremor skated down her back, quick and involuntary.
She slowed.
Of course he was here. The event belonged to Griffin Ventures. His father led the panel. But she hadn’t seen him all night—not on the floor, not in the crowd.
Not that she’d been looking for him.
“You’ve got more fire than you think,” he said, voice low, green eyes dragging over her like he was still assessing the pitch.
Like she was the pitch.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she volleyed.
“It means,” he said, pushing off the wall, “you don’t flinch, even when you’re outmatched.”
He took a step closer. Then another. The air tightened. She was sure of it. It pulled in closer, bending around him like it didn’t have a choice.
“Like at Imperium. And volleyball. And tonight.” He said it like they were milestones. And he was keeping count. But not all of those were even victories. They’d come in third tonight. “You take pressure like you were built for it,” he added, voice rougher now.
Her shoulders tightened. She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. The hallway felt smaller.
His mouth tipped slightly. Not a smile. Something that belonged in the dark. “Strength like that…” He mopped her with his gaze. “…be a shame to waste it.”
Then he walked past, skimming her shoulder. The contact was almost nothing. But she felt it like an echo under her skin.
She watched him go. Wanting to ask. But not wanting to know.
Because some questions, once asked, couldn’t be unlearned. And she wasn’t ready to understand Rafael.