Chapter 5
Chapter five
Emma
The lobby swallowed me whole.
No Jennifer. No Kevin. No David at my side. Just me—and exhaustion—standing alone in Falkirk's massive lobby. The air-conditioning hummed overhead, too cold against my bare arms.
"Hello," I told the receptionist. "I'm Emma Sinclair. I was told to check in at the front desk this morning."
Her smile was professionally polished. "Of course, Ms. Sinclair. We've been expecting you."
"Perfect. I was wondering…"
The words died as Damien entered through the glass doors, crossing the marble floor in long strides that pulled every pair of eyes with them.
"Good morning, Mr. Holt," the receptionist said, voice tipping a little too bright as she looked him over. His shoulders. His chest.
Noted.
"Good morning, Jill." He tipped his head politely before turning to me. "Ms. Sinclair. I'm happy to see you. We're excited to have you here with us."
"I'm excited to be here," I answered pleasantly, while every cell in my body screamed.
He choked on a laugh, covering it with a cough. "Apologies," he wheezed.
"Can I get you a water, Mr. Holt?" Jill asked, tone suggesting she'd fetch him much more than that.
"No, thank you," he said.
I shot her a look that could have curdled milk. Then, to him, I said, "Are you sure you don't want a water?"
He caught the meaning, fake-coughing again. I let him suffer.
"I'd love to escort you to your new office."
I smiled. "I would love—"
"Emma!" someone called, an arm looping over my shoulders. "I'm so glad to see you."
Damien straightened instantly, gaze zeroing in on Nathan Bell—and on the arm he'd draped across me like we were old friends.
I opened my mouth to decline, but Nathan turned to Damien instead.
"Damien, they need you on the fourth floor. Something with accounting."
"I was just about to show Ms. Sinclair to her office."
Nathan grinned. "I'd be happy to show her. If that's alright with you, Emma."
The air shifted.
"Ms. Sinclair," I corrected, voice cold enough to frost the marble.
"Jesus, are we still on that bullshit?"
"It isn't bullshit," Damien snapped. He caught himself a second later—Jill stiffening at the desk. "It's called respect."
"Yeah, yeah," Nathan drawled. "Either way. I'll show Emma to her desk."
"Ms. Sinclair," Damien said again. "And it's an office."
But Nathan was already steering me toward the elevators.
His grip was too firm. Every instinct screamed to shrug him off, tell him where he could shove his escort services.
But not here. Not on my first day. Not with an entire lobby watching.
So I walked. Smile fixed. Body loose. Damien's stare heavy on my back.
The elevator doors slid shut.
Nathan's arm finally dropped away. Small mercy.
"So," he said, leaning against the mirrored wall. "How does it feel? Being absorbed by the big bad wolf?"
"Elion wasn't absorbed. It was a merger."
"Sure it was." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."
"You saw the contract."
"Oh, I did." He dragged out the words. "And I've never seen a company as small as yours secure such generous terms."
The elevator dinged.
The doors slid open to Tessa's smiling face.
"Ms. Sinclair! I'm so glad to see you." She glanced at Nathan. "Mr. Bell."
I returned the smile. "It's good to see you too. How are you feeling?"
"Better," she said, one hand resting lightly on her stomach. "My bloodwork came back—everything looks perfect."
"I'm glad to hear it."
Nathan's hand slid to my lower back, guiding me forward with a pressure that felt more like possession than politeness. I resisted the urge to jerk away.
"I'll take it from here, Tessa," he said smoothly. "I'm sure you have plenty to do."
Her smile dimmed—brief, but there. "Of course, Mr. Bell." She turned to me. "Ms. Sinclair, if you need anything at all, my desk is right down the hall."
"Thank you, Tessa."
She nodded and disappeared around the corner.
Leaving me alone with him again.
"Shall we?" he asked, that slick grin firmly in place.
I followed, because I had to.
The offices stretched ahead. Damien's was the corner suite—of course—five doors down and across from mine. Tessa beside him. Maria across from her. And Nathan directly across from me.
Wonderful.
He tapped my nameplate. "Had them put us close. We'll be working hand-in-hand for the next sixty days."
Sixty?
The contract said thirty. I'd agreed to thirty—had practically choked on that concession as it was.
Was he testing me? Inflating the number to see if I'd push back?
"Thirty," I said through my teeth.
He patted my shoulder. "Assuming all goes well."
I ignored him and stepped inside.
A simple office. No windows. No warmth. Gray walls and a cheap oak desk. The faint smell of fresh paint, like they'd only just decided I was coming.
I sat. The marks Damien had left in the playroom—each one counted, earned, wanted—had faded. But my skin still remembered. His hands. His voice. The way he'd held me after.
That night felt like another life now.
"I know it isn't as fancy as Elion," Nathan sighed, settling into the chair in the corner. "But it's the best one we've got."
"I appreciate it," I said smoothly. "Now, if you wouldn't mind—"
"I should warn you," he interrupted dramatically, "a couple of board members already have a bad taste in their mouths about the breach." A careless flick of his wrist. "Nothing personal."
My foot tapped under the desk. "And why is that?"
He leaned back, savoring it. "The audit Damien submitted painted a very different picture than what we reviewed in due diligence." His smirk deepened. "Stronger. Much stronger."
A heavy pause.
"I'm just curious," he added softly, "how your numbers improved that fast. If Elion was really that solid, I'm surprised you didn't lead with those financials from the start."
Confusion coiled tight in my chest. I shoved it down.
"I'm extremely proud of what Elion built," I said, lifting my chin. "If someone wants to insinuate that work is unworthy of the terms we secured, that's not a reflection on me."
I smiled.
"It's a reflection on them."
His brows rose. Surprise flickered. Then calculation—the look of a man recalibrating.
"I underestimated you," he murmured. "Ms. Sinclair."
He stood. Smoothed his tie.
"I'm looking forward to these next thirty days."
The door clicked behind him.
My foot eased to a stop.
Numbers.
What numbers?
Nathan's words circled through me.
Damien had submitted something. Something strong. Something he hadn't told me about. Something that didn't match what we'd shown.
Every instinct screamed to storm down the hall. Demand answers. Ask why he hadn't told me.
But then I saw his face in my mind—hollow, exhausted, unraveling by inches.
I pressed my palms to the cheap oak desk.
Not now. Not yet.
The questions could wait.
But they weren't going away.
And neither, I suspected, was Nathan.