Chapter 11
Asher Rodriguez smiles, satisfied, as Tanya wraps up the last question the CEO of Lumina Medical Supply raised.
The meeting went better than they'd predicted, though they hadn't expected any less.
The week they spent building this proposal was long, chaotic, and expensive—every hour of overtime earned a solid bonus.
The cabs, the takeout—all of it to land the investment the group wants to make in their medical supply company.
Diane glances up at Asher. She knows him well from the many times they've met and talked over the phone.
They're not close, but reading her clients' expressions is one of the things she's good at, and this one tells her the CEO has already made up his mind—and that it's in Whitestone Consulting Group's favor.
"We've sent the full proposal to your email, Mr. Rodriguez," Cassidy says, stepping forward to hand over a small storage drive. "We've also saved it here in case you need to share it with anyone else."
Asher nods and thanks her with an enthusiastic smile.
"Is there anything else we can offer?" Clara, seated across from him, throws out the question when the man shows no sign of adding anything more.
Diane sits in complete silence. She doesn't open her mouth—she waits, as she always does, and only steps in when it's necessary.
She shifts her eyes slightly and watches Cassidy, who has moved to a corner of the room.
Without thinking, she brings a finger to her lips and taps them lightly.
They're still tingling from that morning's kisses.
It strikes her as strange, because never in her life has anyone kept her body in this charged, humming state hours after a fleeting encounter.
"That won't be necessary." Asher stands, and his team follows. "I hope we can have an answer for you within a couple of days."
"Mr. Rodriguez." Diane rises calmly and smooths the front of her blue blazer with one hand.
"We've addressed everything you asked for, tailoring the proposal to each of your needs so the expansion is a complete success.
" She walks toward him, holds his gaze for a moment, and extends her hand.
"We'd be thrilled to be the ones responsible for making your plans happen. Thank you for choosing us."
Everyone in the room stops breathing. Diane Carter didn't hesitate for a second before delivering those words—words that, beneath the surface, mean we busted our asses for you, don't you dare give this contract to anyone else—to the CEO of Lumina, a man known for his warmth but also for his tenacity in business.
He built that company from nothing, and it certainly wasn't by letting himself be intimidated by women like the one now shaking his hand.
And yet—to the surprise of everyone present—Asher breaks into a wide, open smile and gives a small nod.
"I'm sure you'll do an excellent job." He releases Diane's hand and turns to his vice president. "Daniel, have everything ready so we can sign the contract with this firm."
Clara presses her lips together. Tanya fights to keep her jaw from dropping. And Cassidy looks at Diane with pride. There's nothing that woman can't pull off.
Ten minutes later, the Lumina delegation is gone, and only the four women who represented Whitestone remain.
"Congratulations." Clara turns mostly to Tanya and Cassidy, who did the heaviest lifting on the analysis. "You did good work."
Diane checks her phone, her expression unreadable, not looking up or echoing Clara's praise.
It's rude, and Cassidy wonders what it would cost her to be at least civil with her own team.
As far as Cassidy is concerned, there are two versions of Diane—the public one the whole world knows, and the one that slips through, just barely, when no one is watching, in the dark of her office while Cassidy devours her.
"This expansion is going to mean a lot of work for us." Diane lifts her eyes and speaks quietly, staring at the wall ahead of her. "We need a team focused exclusively on Lumina. No distractions."
"That's not possible." Clara pushes back immediately.
With the staff they have, they can't afford to dedicate several people to a single project full-time.
"With Thompson gone"—Diane had managed to get him removed from her department after his third major screwup—"we're short-handed on that side and still looking for someone to fill his spot.
The B team's on Gales follow-ups. Two others on Alalu, and everyone else pulling double duty on Arnico. We're stretched thin."
Diane doesn't move a muscle, but the blue in her eyes begins to gleam with something everyone recognizes as fury.
"Then I assume you have a proposal," she says, resting her hands calmly on the table. "Solutions, Clara. Not problems."
Clara Fitzgerald seems immune to every one of Diane's darts, but Cassidy has always noticed something the others miss—and she thinks it's the reason for Clara's calm around that woman.
A kind of blind trust, as if the Cobra would willingly put her life in the marketing director's hands.
Cassidy chalked it up to her own imagination more than once, to those exhaustion-soaked nights when she'd climb into her Corolla and drive back to North Hollywood, forcing herself to think about anything to keep from falling asleep at the wheel.
But every time the two of them look at each other like this—like right now—she has no doubt there's a long history between them.
"Gales doesn't need three people reviewing every move they make, no matter how much you insist, so we could reassign two of them to support Tanya.
" Diane listens while her gaze drifts briefly to the brunette—today she's wearing a blouse with yellow and purple flowers.
Appalling. "Cassidy will handle launching the marketing campaign while you and I take care of general oversight. "
Diane crosses one leg over the other and, with the faintest tilt of her head that Clara seems to read perfectly, signals her to go on.
"The groundwork's already done, so Harper Lewis and Adam Foster can—"
"No." The refusal comes out like a growl, and Diane can't stop her left eye from twitching.
She tries not to look at Cassidy, but she can feel that green gaze burning into her the same way it always does when Cassidy doesn't understand one of her decisions—though she never contradicts her, at least not in public.
Clara clears her throat and tips her head. She says nothing, just studies her counterpart for a moment. Diane runs a finger along her bracelet and takes a controlled breath. Anyone who didn't know her would suspect nothing, but Clara Fitzgerald can tell she's rattled.
"They're not the right fit," Diane says, her voice cold and measured.
Cassidy has been biting the inside of her cheek this whole time.
She worked with both of those colleagues a few months back and it went well—they got everything done on time, hit every mark.
In fact, Diane assigned them to Gales—after saving it—for a reason, and it had nothing to do with them not being capable.
"Harper runs campaigns well and Adam's great with analysis," the blonde says, unable to stay quiet. "If the four of us work Lumina together, we'll have it covered."
They don't call Diane the Cobra just because she seems like she could strike at any moment, without warning.
It's also because when something infuriates her, the veins in her neck stand out and that part of her body seems to swell, like a snake about to sink venom-filled fangs into its prey.
Cassidy watches it all in slow motion: the bright blue eyes, the flush climbing her face, the tight press of her lips.
"Collins, stay out of this," she hisses, soft and laced with iron. "Get out of this room." She cuts her eyes to Tanya. "Baker, give us the room."
The blonde lifts her chin and keeps her face neutral, not letting on what she's feeling. It's a mix of disappointment, anger, and frustration that only this woman is capable of stirring up in her.
She gathers her things and walks out beside her colleague. When the door clicks shut, Clara lets out a loud exhale.
"Don't start." Diane cuts her off, lifting a hand slightly.
"Diane," Clara says, shaking her head. "Can you stop being such a bitch for five minutes?"
She raises an eyebrow and settles back in her chair, pressing her spine against the backrest.
"I know the answer, and it's no—but at least be consistent.
" That left eye twitching again, without her permission.
"You picked two people to oversee a project we nearly lost, one that had you working for days on barely any sleep, and now suddenly they're not the right fit"—Clara throws air quotes on the last three words—"for this new one.
Do you have any idea how a decision like this makes you look? "
Of course she knows. Diane isn't stupid.
The problem is a conflict of interest has crept in that she never saw coming.
She can't think straight when it comes to that damn Adam Foster being anywhere near Cassidy.
It's a feeling that overwhelms her, twisting something deep in her gut with no way to shut it down.
She's seen it in his eyes—the way he watches Cassidy, the way he drinks her in when she smiles at him gratefully for something, without a shred of restraint.
She should've had him walked out months ago.
"What other people think of me isn't my concern, Clara," she says, rolling her shoulders with indifference.
"It's my head on the line if something goes wrong, not theirs.
Gales is running smoothly and what those two are doing there is straightforward, but a European expansion isn't something just anyone can manage.
You know that. There's a lot of money at stake. "
Clara narrows her eyes. She knows Diane's right, but that's not the only thing driving her behavior. She doesn't waste time picking apart the other reasons—her colleague is so closed off that only she knows why she does anything.
"So what exactly are you suggesting?" Clara asks, resting her chin on the back of her hand.
"I take it on myself," she decides, barely moving. "Tanya will be the lead. I'll work alongside her, and we'll pull in Harper Lewis if we need help moving paperwork. Collins does what she always does, and you oversee the final campaign."
The marketing director thinks it's a smart play, so she doesn't push back—though she'd love to know how Diane always manages to get exactly what she wants.
"All right, we'll do it that way." She goes quiet for a moment, and when she speaks again her voice is softer. "Is everything okay?"
Diane clenches her jaw. She hates that kind of question—too wide open for a person who always wants to say as little as possible.
"Yes, everything's fine." She gets to her feet, but she knows Clara isn't done. She sighs.
"Have you talked to—"
"No." The head of business development answers immediately, her expression completely locked down.
Neither of them says anything more, but that one simple question leaves Diane unmoored, as if she doesn't quite know what to do next.
"Diane, please, you have to be reasonable." A silence so sharp it hurt to hear. "You can't keep behaving this way."
"I can't keep—?" Diane was stunned by what she was hearing on the other end of the line. "I don't believe this."
She was at home, on an afternoon that was far too cold, and she'd decided to leave early because she was exhausted.
She'd spent two nights without sleep, working on a proposal the client ultimately rejected.
She was planning to unwind, draw a hot bath, eat something decent—but her phone rang, an unknown number, and even though she had a feeling who it was, she answered anyway. What a mistake.
"You can still change. We're willing to forgive you and—"
"Don't call again."
And she hung up, gripping the phone so hard she thought it would shatter in her hands. Her jaw was clenched, her body ached, and from her eyes—which hadn't been wet in years—two tears spilled out, filling her with a fury she couldn't contain.
The calls went on for months. Diane didn't answer a single one, and even after she blocked the unknown number, they kept coming in from somewhere else.
Two weeks ago, she picked up by accident.
She was reviewing a report, the phone buzzed, and she answered without thinking.
The moment she heard the voice, she went almost catatonic.
She sat in her chair for a few minutes until she felt the familiar suffocation of that invisible hand—the one that has been squeezing her throat for so many years, the one Diane, despite every effort, has never been able to fully pry loose.
She stood up suddenly, like a spring released, grabbed her bag, and walked out of her office, each step pounding into the floor.
She went downstairs, left the building, and walked into Bucket's.
She sat at the bar, still with that unfocused stare, lost in a past that wouldn't leave her alone—and then Clara appeared out of nowhere, sat down beside her, and saved her once again.
"Make it official." Diane changes the subject abruptly and heads for the door. "Let management know who's running the Lumina project."
She walks out of the room with her chin up, not looking at anyone.
Silence falls the way it always does when she walks into a room—and her eyes, inexcusably traitorous lately, drift toward the desk where Cassidy sits.
As if she heard the devil calling, Cassidy turns her head, and the two of them connect for just a second before the blonde looks away and fixes her attention back on her screen.
Diane feels something twist inside her, but she doesn't show it.
She does the opposite: she projects indifference as she passes, as if Cassidy means nothing to her, as if she's just another employee she happens to sleep with from time to time.
She knows with absolute certainty that isn't true—but Diane Carter has been running for a long time, and she's not ready to stop.