7. Chapter SevenLucas
Chapter Seven
Lucas
I ’ve been staring at the same sustainability report for an hour, but all I can think about is Emma during the presentation. I remember the seamless way we moved together, anticipating each other’s thoughts, and how she felt under my hand when I steadied her—a touch that was both completely innocent and anything but professional.
She’d leaned into my palm slightly, unconsciously seeking support while her voice remained confident. We’d fallen into our old rhythm like dancers remembering steps after years apart. That moment she glanced back at me, sharing a flash of triumph when the Johnsons started nodding along with her projections.
The board meets in twelve hours to vote on Project Phoenix’s future, and I can’t focus on anything except the way she smiled when Mrs. Johnson called our approach “compelling.”
“You’re brooding.”
I look up to find Sophie lounging in my office doorway, wearing an expression that says you’re not going to like this conversation.
“I’m reviewing the implementation timeline for tomorrow’s vote.”
“You’re staring at an upside-down report while looking like someone kicked your puppy. Right after you sent the world’s most professionally distant email to the woman who just helped save our biggest account.”
I glance down at the report and quickly flip it right-side up, feeling heat crawl up my neck. Sophie knows me too well to miss anything.
“The board—”
“Is going to vote based on the brilliant strategy you two presented today, not on whether their CEO maintains an appropriate distance from his head analyst.” She drops into a chair across from my desk. “Though I have to say, watching you try to be professional while looking at Emma like she invented sustainable energy is pretty entertaining.”
“I don’t look at her like—”
“Like she’s both the best and worst thing that’s ever happened to you? Yeah, you really do.” Sophie leans forward, her gold bracelets clicking together. “Want to tell me what happened during the presentation?”
“Nothing happened during the presentation.” I straighten the report, trying to focus on profit projections instead of the memory of Emma’s perfume. The way it had enveloped me when I leaned close to point at the charts, floral with a hint of vanilla. “We were professional.”
“Uh-huh. Is that why you couldn’t keep your hands off her?”
“I was steadying her! She was nervous about—”
“Lucas.” Sophie’s voice softens. “I saw you two. The way you moved together, finished each other’s thoughts. Even the Johnsons noticed. Mrs. Johnson asked if you were engaged.”
Something in my chest tightens at her words. The last time someone had assumed we were a couple was during that summer internship at Dad’s office. Emma had spilled coffee on an executive’s shoes, and I’d kneeled to help clean it up. The executive had laughed and said, “Ah, young love.” We’d stammered denials while avoiding each other’s eyes for days afterward.
I remember how she’d whispered “thanks” with cheeks flushed pink, how I’d wanted to reach for her hand but didn’t dare.
“That’s exactly the problem,” I say, pulling myself back to the present. “The board already thinks I’m letting personal feelings influence business decisions. If they believe my judgment is compromised—”
“Then what? They’ll somehow miss how brilliant Emma is? How perfectly you balance each other? How your combined vision could revolutionize the entire industry?”
“They’ll use it against us.” I run a hand through my hair, destroying whatever professional image I have left. “Like Garrett’s trying to do. You should have heard him after the presentation, talking about ‘inappropriate workplace dynamics’ and ‘clouded judgment.’”
“And you think maintaining this ridiculous icy distance will help?” Sophie’s eyes narrow. “Because based on the texts you’ve been sending her, you’re doing a terrible job of it.”
I glance at my phone, at the last message I sent: The Johnsons would be crazy not to see how amazing you are. I mean, how amazing your ideas are. Sorry. Good luck tomorrow, Ms. Hastings.
Every time I try to be purely professional with Emma, something breaks through. Some hint of what I’m really thinking, what I really want to say. Like my heart has a direct line to my fingers that bypasses all my carefully constructed barriers.
“I shouldn’t have sent that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have added that ridiculous correction. Or that ‘good luck, Ms. Hastings’ nonsense. You should have told her how you feel.”
“Sophie—”
“Tell her how watching her present makes your heart race. That you’ve been in love with her since—”
“Stop.” The word comes out sharper than intended. “You don’t understand. The board votes tomorrow. Project Phoenix could change everything—sustainable energy integration, market analytics, and the company’s future. I can’t let personal feelings jeopardize that.”
“Personal feelings are what made today’s presentation so powerful!” Sophie stands, frustration evident in the set of her shoulders and the spark in her eyes – the same expression she wore when arguing with Dad about important matters. “The Johnsons didn’t just see two executives pitching technology. They saw partners who trusted each other completely. Who make each other better. Who—”
A knock interrupts her.
Sophie falls silent as we both turn to see Garrett standing in the doorway, tablet in hand, his impeccable suit a stark contrast to the late hour.
“Mr. Walker. A word about tomorrow’s vote?” His eyes flick to Sophie. “Privately?”
She moves with all the grace of a queen dismissing a servant. “Just remember, brother dear, that Dad’s biggest regret wasn’t about business decisions.” At my confused look, she adds, “It was letting fear stop him from being happy. From letting people in.”
She breezes past Garrett, pausing briefly to shoot him a look that could freeze lava before disappearing down the hall.
Dad had mentioned something similar during those last weeks when the hospital room became a place for unexpected confessions. “I was too cautious with the things that mattered,” he’d said, looking at a photo of Mom from their early days. “Don’t make my mistakes.”
“The board has concerns,” Garrett starts, but I’m barely listening. My eyes are drawn to movement in the hallway—Emma in the conference room, illuminated by her laptop screen as she works late. Her blazer is gone, replaced by what looks suspiciously like an old Walker Enterprises company picnic t-shirt. A strand of hair has escaped her bun, and my fingers itch to brush it back.
The way her forehead crinkles when she’s concentrating. How she absently taps her pencil against her lips while thinking. The small smile that appears when she solves a particularly challenging problem. I’ve been watching these same expressions for years, first across library tables, then in board meetings. They’ve always fascinated me.
Professional. I need to stay professional.
Even if it means ignoring how right Sophie is.
Even if it means denying the connection that everyone can see.
Even if it means putting corporate success above personal happiness.
Because tomorrow, the board votes on Project Phoenix. On Emma’s brilliant vision for the company’s future. On everything we’ve worked for.
“The board is particularly interested in your... relationship with Ms. Hastings,” Garrett says, settling into the chair Sophie vacated. “Today’s presentation raised some concerns about professional boundaries.”
“Ms. Hastings is an exemplary analyst whose work speaks for itself.”
“Indeed.” His smile is thin, not reaching his eyes. “Though some members wonder if personal feelings might be influencing your judgment regarding Project Phoenix.”
“The numbers—”
“Show impressive potential. But so does Brighton’s technology. And they’re offering the Johnsons something we can’t match: Stability. Predictability. A partnership uncomplicated by personal dynamics.”
My jaw clenches as I fight to maintain my composure. The insinuation that our work is somehow less valuable because of our connection makes my throat tighten with anger. Emma has poured her heart and mind into Project Phoenix. The least I can do is ensure it’s judged on its merits.
“I noticed how closely you worked during the presentation,” Garrett continues, his voice deceptively casual. “The touching. The finishing each other’s sentences. Even Mrs. Johnson commented on your obvious chemistry.”
“We maintained appropriate professional—”
“Did you?” He taps his tablet, his manicured finger hitting the screen with precise little taps. “Because I have several board members expressing concern that your romantic feelings are too prominent. That you’re elevating Emma’s plan because you want to further your relationship with her.” He leans forward, voice dropping to a near whisper. “Is your support for Project Phoenix based on business acumen or... other factors?”
The implication hangs heavy in the air, sulfurous and toxic. I think of Emma’s brilliant strategy, innovative approach to sustainable analytics, and passion for revolutionizing the industry. All of it potentially being dismissed because I couldn’t maintain a professional distance.
“My support is purely based on the projections and numbers,” I respond, working to keep my voice even.
Garrett studies me for a long moment, his calculating gaze assessing my reaction. “The board votes tomorrow. Project Phoenix needs a two-thirds majority. Several members are undecided.” He pauses, letting the words sink in. “They’ll be watching how you handle this situation.”
I stare at him, seeing the true purpose behind his concern. This isn’t about propriety or professional standards. It’s about leverage. About finding a way to control the direction of the company by controlling me.
“I understand,” I tell Garrett, the words tasting like ash. “Professional boundaries will be maintained.”
“Excellent.” He stands, victory in every line of his posture. “Oh, and one more thing. The Johnsons specifically mentioned how well you work together. How you seem to anticipate each other’s thoughts. Make each other better.”
“And?”
“And several board members wondered if such intimate collaboration might impact your objectivity. Particularly regarding Ms. Hastings’ future role in the company.”
The threat is clear, cutting through any pretense of business concerns. If I don’t maintain an appropriate distance, they’ll question every decision involving Emma. Suspicion of personal bias will taint every promotion, every project, and every success.
I wait until Garrett leaves before pulling up my email. The cursor blinks accusingly as I type:
To: Emma Hastings
Subject: Tomorrow’s Board Meeting
Ms. Hastings,
Please have the final Project Phoenix numbers ready by 8 AM. We’ll need to present a united professional front to ensure the vote’s success.
Lucas Walker
CEO, Walker Enterprises
I stare at the screen, reading and rereading the cold, impersonal words. Words that could have been written to any employee, not the woman who knows every one of my tells, who can anticipate my thoughts before I’ve finished forming them, who makes me better in ways I’m still discovering.
My finger hovers over the send button.
This is the right decision. The only way to ensure the board takes Project Phoenix seriously. The only way to protect Emma’s work from being dismissed as the pet project of a CEO with clouded judgment.
Even if it means pretending there’s no electricity between us.
Even if it means sacrificing what could be the best thing in my life for what’s best for the company.
Through the glass wall, I can see Emma still working, determined and focused. She pushes that escaped strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture so familiar it makes my chest ache with longing. She deserves this chance. Her work deserves to be recognized for its brilliance, not overshadowed by speculation about us.
With a heaviness in my chest, I hit send.
A response arrives a few minutes later:
To: Lucas Walker
Subject: Re: Tomorrow’s Board Meeting
Mr. Walker,
Understood. The final numbers will be ready at 8 AM.
Emma Hastings
The terse reply feels like a door closing between us. But it’s better this way. Project Phoenix deserves its chance. Emma’s brilliant ideas deserve to be judged on merit, not overshadowed by rumors about our relationship.
I glance from my computer to see her still in the conference room. Even from here, I can see the rigid set of her shoulders and the way she’s typing with more force than necessary. She knows what’s happening. She understands the game Garrett is playing. And like me, she’s putting the work first.
Because that’s who we are. People who believe in building something that matters, even when it costs us personally.
Tomorrow, the board votes on the future of sustainable technology at Walker Enterprises.
I can’t let personal feelings jeopardize that.
No matter how much it hurts.
No matter how many times I have to remind myself that professional distance is the right choice.
Even if maintaining that distance feels like slowly tearing myself apart.