4. Chapter FourEmma
Chapter Four
Emma
“ Y ou’ve got this,” I mutter to myself, straightening my blazer for the hundredth time. “You are a competent professional who didn’t spend twenty minutes this morning practicing how to say ‘integrated sustainable analytics platform’ without squeaking.”
My reflection in the conference room window looks skeptical. Probably because she knows I’m lying. It was closer to forty-five minutes, and I still stumbled over the phrase “proprietary forecasting model.”
I’m early for the board meeting, using the time to set up my presentation and triple-check my Project Phoenix materials. The new blazer (picked out by Sophie, along with strict instructions not to “Emma it up”) is still pristine. My hair is behaving for once, and I haven’t tripped over anything in at least two hours. By my standards, this is practically a miracle.
I shuffle through my notes one more time, remembering James Walker’s voice the first time I presented to the board. “Stand tall, speak clearly, and remember—they’re more afraid of your data than you are of them.” He’d believed in me even when I’d knocked over his coffee during my interview. Now, his son is about to watch me pitch the future direction of their family company. No pressure.
The sound of footsteps in the hallway breaks my concentration.
“Talking to yourself?”
I spin around to find Natalie leaning against the doorframe, looking effortlessly put together in a way I’ve never managed to achieve. She holds out a paper cup like a peace offering.
“I brought you coffee. Decaf.”
“You’re a goddess.” I make grabby hands at the cup. “But why decaf? I need all the caffeine I can get. The Johnsons represent 40% of our renewable energy contracts. If we lose them to Brighton—“
“Because regular coffee plus your natural nervous energy equals that time you tried to explain market segmentation to the board and talked so fast they had to play the recording at half speed to understand you.”
“That was one time!” I protest but accept the decaf gratefully. “And in my defense, I had three espressos that morning, and we were introducing our first solar integration platform.”
“Exactly.” Natalie drops into one of the conference room chairs, eyeing my presentation materials. “So, what’s the strategy? Beyond trying not to get distracted by how good the new CEO looks in his suits?”
I choke on my coffee, feeling it burn down the wrong pipe as I sputter and cough. “I have never—“
“You mentioned it twice yesterday. And once this morning when you were reorganizing the supply closet by carbon footprint ratings.”
“I was organizing by efficiency metrics,” I mutter, feeling my cheeks heat up. “The suit comment was simply an objective appreciation of professional attire.”
“Uh-huh.” She grins. “And I suppose the fact that you’ve practiced this presentation six times in the R we’re inviting them to shape the future of green energy analysis. By combining their practical experience with our Project Phoenix innovations, we create a partnership that Brighton can’t match.”
“And how do you propose to manage the increased workload?” Garrett interrupts, tapping his tablet where I know he has Brighton’s latest quarterly report displayed. “Our tech division is already struggling to meet current demands. SolarTech’s market share grew 15% last quarter alone.”
I feel a flutter of anxiety, the one I always get when someone questions my work. But then I remember James Walker’s words: “Numbers don’t lie, Emma. Trust your data.”
“Actually,” I click to my next slide, trying not to feel too satisfied at Garrett’s surprised expression, “I’ve mapped out a resource reallocation plan that integrates Project Phoenix’s automated systems. By streamlining our current reporting processes and implementing our new analytics framework, we can reduce manual processing by 45% while improving accuracy by 30%.”
My gesturing hand catches my coffee cup. Time seems to slow down as I watch it tip, coffee arcing through the air toward my sustainable impact projections.
Before disaster can strike, a hand shoots out and catches the cup. Coffee sloshes over the rim, but instead of ruining my presentation, it lands harmlessly on the table.
Lucas sets the almost empty cup safely aside, and our eyes meet briefly. His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “Please continue, Ms. Hastings.”
Right. Because, of course, he caught it. Lucas “Superhuman Reflexes” Walker is still saving me from my chaos. Just like when he lunged across the library table to catch my laptop before it crashed to the floor during finals week. Or when he grabbed my waist to stop me from falling into the pool at his father’s retirement party, moments before our almost-kiss.
Everyone’s staring at me, waiting to see if I’ll fall apart.
Not this time.
I’m already pivoting, my mind instantly recalculating, finding the opportunity in the near-disaster. “Actually, that’s a perfect example of what I’m talking about. Quick responses to potential issues, preventing problems before they become disasters. Our new system will identify sustainability risks and opportunities in real-time, allowing for proactive rather than reactive management.”
A ripple of appreciative chuckles circles the table. Even Garrett’s expression softens slightly.
“The Johnsons need to know we’re not just their analytics provider,” I continue, pulling up our renewable energy forecasts. “We’re their partner in sustainable growth, risk management team, and opportunity spotters. We see the market shifts before they impact bottom lines.”
“And what makes you qualified to lead this initiative?” Garrett asks, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. “This would require coordinating with our tech division, which is already behind schedule on development.”
I feel Lucas tense slightly, probably preparing to intervene, but this is my moment. The question Garrett’s really asking is: Why should we trust someone who can’t even keep her coffee upright?
I take a deep breath, channeling the confidence James Walker had always seen in me. The same confidence I catch glimpses of in Lucas’s eyes.
“I’ve spent the last two years not just analyzing the Johnsons’ data but understanding their sustainability goals. I know their green energy initiatives, carbon reduction targets, and environmental impact objectives.” I meet Garrett’s gaze steadily. “I’ve been working directly with our tech team on Project Phoenix’s sustainable analytics framework.”
I straighten my shoulders, remembering every late night, every spreadsheet, every pattern I’d discovered that others had missed. “And most importantly? I believe in what we’re building here. Not just for Walker Enterprises or the Johnsons, but for the future of sustainable business practices.”
The boardroom falls silent. Even Garrett seems to be considering my words. I can feel Lucas watching me, and when I glance his way, the pride in his eyes makes my heart skip.
“The board votes tomorrow,” the chairwoman announces, tapping her pen decisively against her notepad. “And assuming approval, you’ll present to the Johnsons on Wednesday. Ms. Hastings, commendable work. Though perhaps next time—“ her sharp eyes flick to the rescued coffee cup, ”—we stick to bottled water during presentations.”
As the board files out, I gather my materials, my hands tingling slightly from leftover adrenaline. We did it. Project Phoenix is one step closer to reality. Now we just have to convince the Johnsons that our vision for sustainable technology is worth betting on.
“That was brilliant.” Lucas’s voice is quiet beside me. “The coffee save metaphor? Perfect.”
“Pure luck,” I admit, trying to ignore how my skin warms when he helps me collect my papers. The brush of his fingers against mine sends a jolt through me that has nothing to do with professional boundaries. “Though having a CEO with quick reflexes helps.”
“I’ll always catch you, Emma.” The words seem to slip out before he can stop them. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, I see past the CEO mask to the boy who used to believe in me before anyone else did. The one who spent three hours helping me rebuild my presentation after a computer crash the night before finals. The one who said my “crazy ideas about sustainability metrics” would change the industry someday.
Garrett clears his throat from the doorway, and the moment shatters.
“The Johnsons are confirmed for Wednesday, 9 AM,” he announces. “Assuming tomorrow’s vote goes your way.” His eyes flick meaningfully to the coffee cup. “And Ms. Hastings? Perhaps stick to tea until then.”
I wait until he’s gone before letting out a shaky breath. “Well, that was terrifying.”
“You were amazing,” Lucas says quietly. “They see it now—what Dad saw in you. What I’ve always seen.”
The words hang between us, heavy with meaning. For a moment, I’m back on that balcony two years ago, the night air cool against my skin, Lucas’s hand warm as it brushed a strand of hair from my face. “You see patterns no one else notices,” he’d said then. “It’s kind of remarkable.”
But before I can respond, his assistant appears with an urgent call from the tech division.
I head back to my office, my mind already racing with the next steps. Tomorrow, the board will decide whether we can present Project Phoenix to the Johnsons. We have to convince them that our approach to sustainable technology isn’t just innovative but worth betting their company’s future on.
I place my notes carefully on my desk, next to the framed sticky note James Walker had given me after my first successful market prediction. “Sometimes chaos creates the best patterns,” he’d written. His son had obviously inherited that perspective, along with those quick reflexes that had just saved my presentation.
And if my heart won’t stop replaying the way Lucas said he’d always catch me? Well, that’s just professional appreciation for good crisis management.
Even if it feels like something more.
Something real.