16. Chapter 16 #2
Her eyes close briefly. When she opens them again, the fight has gone out of them.
"She also said," Claire continues, staring somewhere over my shoulder, "that I should think very carefully before tying my future to a man with your history."
I take a step closer.
"And did you believe her?"
She doesn't answer right away.
That's answer enough.
"Claire."
Her throat moves.
"My father told me you were the wrong man. I didn't listen. And then Camille stood there and said the exact same thing, except she's known you for years. And for a minute I couldn't tell the difference between her trying to manipulate me and her telling me the truth."
I go quiet for a moment.
"Your dad's not wrong about who I was. Camille's not wrong about my history." I keep my voice low, steady. "But neither of them have been watching me these last few weeks." I hold her gaze. "You have. So I need you to tell me — what do you think?"
Claire doesn't answer.
Not at first.
She just looks at me, really looks, and the stairwell goes quiet in a way that makes my pulse thicken. Her fingers tighten around her purse. Her breath catches once, barely audible. She's weighing something. Fighting something. Maybe fighting me.
A long moment stretches between us — too long — and for the first time tonight I'm not sure what she's about to say.
When she finally speaks, her voice is softer than I've ever heard it.
"I think I'm scared."
The words land between us like a dropped glass.
She swallows, eyes flicking away, then back to me.
"I'm scared of what this could do to my reputation.
I'm scared of getting dragged into something I promised myself I'd never touch.
My father warned me not to get involved in situations like this, and I can hear him in my head right now.
" A shaky breath. "And I'm scared because I don't know if you're worth all of this. "
That one hits me dead center.
She looks down at her hands.
"But…" Her voice softens. "I see you trying. I see you changing. And that scares me too, because it means this isn't just business anymore."
She looks down, then up again — and there's something raw in her eyes.
"I like you, Darius. More than I should. More than I planned to. And I need time to figure out what that means before I give you more than that."
I nod slowly. I don't push. I don't try to fix it.
Some things can't be solved in a stairwell.
The quiet stretches between us, and for once I let it. She gave me something real just now and the least I can do is not rush past it.
After a moment I exhale.
"Okay." I straighten. "Then let's deal with what I can actually control right now."
Her eyes lift.
"She threatened you," I say.
"She threatened the arrangement—"
"She threatened you, Claire." I push off the wall. "Your license. Your reputation. She told you that if you don't help her bury me, she'll make you a punchline in every room you're trying to work in for the next ten years."
Claire opens her mouth.
"That's not a professional conversation," I say. "That's a threat. And I already called Brandon."
She goes still.
"My attorney. I played him the voicemail in the parking garage before we came inside. He said she crossed a line. He wants to meet with both of us tonight, after the reception."
A small smile crosses her face like she's surprised I actually listened for once.
"Good," she says. "That was the right call."
"I called him when I heard her voicemail this morning. What she said to you makes it worse, not better." I hold her gaze. "Nobody threatens my girl."
Claire doesn't look away. Her shoulders drop — barely, almost imperceptibly — and I watch something loosen in the set of her jaw.
"I got this."
***
"Can I tell you something?" I ask.
Her eyes lift to mine.
"You once spent twenty minutes lecturing me about letting other people write my story."
A faint smile touches the corner of her mouth. "I don't remember that."
"I do."
The smile fades.
"Claire, you told me that people only get inside your head if you hand them the keys."
Silence settles between us. I lean forward, resting my forearms on my knees.
"Camille knows exactly where to aim because she's spent her whole life reading people. That's what makes her dangerous. But just because she found an insecurity doesn't mean she gets to define what's true."
Claire looks away. I wait. After a moment she says quietly, "You didn't hear what she said."
"No. But I can see what it did."
That lands. I can tell because she doesn't argue.
"She made you question yourself," I continue. "And maybe she made you question me too."
The muscles in her throat move. Neither of us says anything for a second. Then I let out a slow breath.
"I know I've given you plenty of reasons to doubt me."
Her eyes lift.
"I know what my reputation looks like. I know what my past looks like. Hell, if I were you, I'd probably have questions too."
A laugh escapes her before she can stop it.
Good. I wanted that.
"But Camille doesn't get to decide who I am now any more than she gets to decide who you are."
The fluorescent lights hum softly overhead.
"Maybe this started as an arrangement," I say carefully. "Maybe we both had reasons for saying yes that had nothing to do with each other. But somewhere along the way, you stopped being a business decision to me."
The words hang there. Not quite a confession. Not quite not one.
"And regardless of what Camille thinks, or what the media thinks, or what anybody else thinks, I'm asking you to trust your own judgment."
Claire's gaze holds mine. For a long moment neither of us speaks. Then she looks down at the notebook in her lap.
When she finally speaks, her voice is steady again. "Regardless of how I feel about you..."
My pulse kicks.
"...my dad still needs surgery."
I don't say anything.
"You still need your comeback."
I nod.
The corner of her mouth lifts in a small, determined smile. "Which means we need to move on to the next phase of the plan."
I stare at her for a second. Then I smile back. And just like that, the woman who walked into this stairwell looking defeated is gone.
"What phase is that?" I ask.
Claire closes the notebook. The smile she gives me this time reaches her eyes.
"I'm glad you asked."