Chapter 20
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Emma
Subject: Falkirk–Elion Strategic Check-In
From: Nathan Bell
Attendees: Emma Sinclair, Nathan Bell, Jennifer Capolli, David Broughton, Kevin Smith, Damien Holt
The words glowed on my screen like a sprung trap.
It hit in the middle of a debrief with accounting, another tired loop of questions without answers.
Where is the money supposed to come from?
We only have this much left.
The numbers blurred, a dull hum gathering at the base of my skull.
I stilled, the hum of the projector cutting a straight line through the fog.
“Did you get that?” Jennifer asked from two seats down, nails tapping against the tabletop.
“Yeah,” I murmured.
Damien hadn’t said anything today about a meeting. Not one word.
The pen bit into my fingers. His earlier message, warm and teasing, hovered at the top of my screen, painfully out of sync with the cold ambush wrapped into that invitation.
But none of that changed the room or my role within it.
“Please continue,” I said.
We pushed through another hour of financials. My answers came measured and practiced while the rest of me narrowed into tighter focus, mapping risks and contingencies beneath the surface.
By the time the meeting ended, something inside me felt lightly scraped, tender but intact.
At two-thirty, a light knock broke the muted quiet. Candace peeked in, scanning my expression. “Bad time?”
“No, it’s fine.” I coaxed a smile into place.
She stepped in holding two salads. “Chicken Caesar.”
“You’re perfect,” I said, taking it as hunger tightened low and insistent.
She sat across from me with red-rimmed eyes.
“What happened?”
“Garrett was a dick again. Surprise,” she muttered, her shoulders slumping. “He flipped out because I didn’t want to go out last night.”
“Dick,” I snapped. “I can’t believe he didn’t give you any grace, especially after yesterday.”
A cold prickle crept along the back of my neck.
Hands that wouldn’t release.
The gun.
The trap of it.
The flashes hit fast, bright as splintered light.
Candace snapped her lid open and stabbed her salad. “He doesn’t understand how scary it was. He’s never been through anything like that.” She was cushioning him again.
He should have steadied her.
Made her feel safe.
The way Damien had made me feel last night.
The thought slid in with quiet clarity, his hands on my skin, his presence drawing me back into myself with a calm I hadn’t expected.
“It wasn’t even about dinner,” Candace said. “You know that tone? When it’s not about the thing at all, it’s everything underneath it. Like he was waiting.”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I know exactly what you mean.”
A faint pressure tugged behind my temples as my father’s sharp, unwelcome voice shoved its way into memory. Drama queen. Just like your mother.
“He said I’m a baby. A drama queen.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?” I asked. “Explain how messed up it was?”
“No, it’s fine.” Too quick. “Besides, you two don’t exactly get along.” She dug her fork into a crouton until it cracked. “He’ll cool off. He always does.”
Warnings gathered like static under my skin.
“If you want to crash at my place tonight, you can,” I offered.
“No thanks. I’m sure he’ll apologize.”
“Offer stands.”
She rubbed her arm, her sleeve slipping enough to reveal dark, smudged bruises matching mine.
My brows drew together. “I don’t remember him grabbing you.”
“Neither did I. I only noticed it last night.” She lifted her arm slightly, unsure.
“I get it,” I said. “I thought I threw my back out. I didn’t feel anything until the adrenaline dropped.”
“Damn, are you okay?”
“I’m fine now.”
“No way! I thought your back hurt?”
“It did,” I admitted.
“Ohhh.” Her eyebrows danced.
“Oh, god.” I covered my face. “I didn’t fuck him, Candace.”
“I’m not saying you did.” She raised her hands, then smirked. “I’m just saying I wouldn’t blame you if you rode that thing into—”
Knock. Knock.
We froze.
“Come in,” I called.
Jennifer stepped inside with a stack of papers balanced against her hip. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, her attention flicking to Candace, who scrambled for her bag, “the two of you.”
“No problem. What’s up?”
“I want to go over a couple points for the Falkirk meeting.”
My fork slipped, clattering into the bowl. “Yeah. Sure.”
Candace mouthed Later and hurried out.
Jennifer set the files down, and when I looked up, she was watching me with that still, razor-edged awareness she never bothered to hide. “Start from the bottom or the top?” she asked.
“The top,” I groaned, just as my phone buzzed. Damien.
I grabbed it too fast. Jennifer’s eyebrows twitched.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
Damien: Sorry about the meeting invite. I didn’t know or I would’ve warned you.
Relief flooded through me, smoothing out the frustration that had been needling at me since the calendar invite landed.
Me: Really?
Damien: Yes. Nathan sent it without looping me in.
My mouth opened, eyes widening. Scheduling a CEO meeting without the CEO’s input wasn’t bold. It was hostile.
Me: Thanks for letting me know.
Then—
Me: And I’ll bring the $2 to dinner tonight.
Damien: Looking forward to it.
The warmth unfurled, steady and difficult to ignore.
When I looked up, Jennifer was still watching me, her attention too precise to be casual.
“What was that about?”
“Nothing,” I blurted.
“Emma.” She crossed her arms. “I told you about the pregnancy scare in Aruba. You owe me.”
“Fine.” I exhaled. “I’ve started seeing this guy—”
“No! Tell me.”
I laughed. “He’s really kind and caring. Smart. Sweet. A tiny bit protective.”
A memory surfaced, clear and full.
The curb.
Damien scanning me, hands steady as he checked for injuries, fear tightening his features in a way he didn’t bother to hide. Then—I’d kick that motherfucker’s ass into next Tuesday.
A smile curved my lips.
Jennifer’s eyebrows rose. “You really must like this guy.”
“I—” My voice thinned. “I think I really might.”
She softened. “I’m so happy for you, Emma. You deserve someone good.”
“Thanks. I just… hope he turns out to be who I think he is.”
“He will be,” she said. “Your standards are ridiculous. If you’re talking about him, he already passed.”
“Maybe.”
We sat for a moment, two women holding hope like a fragile thing, careful not to crush it.
Then Jennifer straightened, tapping the papers. “All right,” she said. “Back to these documents.”