Chapter 6 #2
“Relax,” Gabby said, unbothered. “You’re not agreeing to anything today. This is just a conversation. Listen, glare, sip your overpriced fizzy water—whatever makes you feel better. Trust me, Av. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
Avery grabbed her half-empty LaCroix, jaw tight. “Okay fine, but I swear if she tells me what my company needs again, I’m walking out.”
“Duly noted,” Gabby said, smirking.
They crossed the open office toward the glass-walled conference room. Avery’s heels clicked clean and deliberate against polished concrete, echoing beneath the hum of keyboards and conversation. Heads turned. She was composed, unreadable every inch the CEO she’d built herself into.
Then she saw her. Quinn. Sitting at the head of the table like she’d been carved for it, legs crossed, back straight, the picture of control.
A navy suit hugged her frame, tailored within an inch of its life. Her hair was slicked back, the sharp line of her jaw catching the light every time she moved. No jewelry, no excess. Just clean, ruthless elegance.
Avery’s throat went dry. No. Absolutely not.
She reminded herself she hated this. Hated her. Hated that Quinn could walk in like she hadn’t moaned Avery’s name into a hotel pillow four nights ago.
And yet, fuck, she looked good. Gabby opened the door. “Ladies,” she said brightly. “Thanks for waiting.”
Quinn stood as they entered, polite, unreadable. “Ms. Rossetti. Ms. Cohen.”
Avery’s spine straightened automatically. “Ms. Sinclare.”
They all sat. Avery crossed her legs, careful, deliberate. Her expression didn’t so much as flicker.
Gabby glanced between them. “Alright, thank you both for being here. I really think this conversation needed to happen. I think it deserves a proper table, not a phone call. So, let’s just hear her out, Okay? Quinn why don’t you start.”
Quinn nodded once. “Thank you. I’ll keep this brief.”
Her voice was low, smooth, which was, unfortunately, sexy as hell.
Avery hated that her stomach reacted before her brain did.
“I want to be clear,” Quinn began, sliding a leather folder open.
“Halo isn’t interested in taking over Lilith to change what makes it valuable.
You’ve built something exceptional. What I’m offering is scale.
Infrastructure support, expanded moderation systems, advanced AI integration for match algorithms, server redundancy, marketing reach.
We have the tools to take Lilith global. ”
Avery arched an eyebrow. “You mean turn it into another soulless product that looks great on a quarterly report.”
“Not at all,” Quinn said calmly. “I’m offering resources. What you’ve built—the trust, the user base, the brand voice—is the core. I want that preserved.”
“Preserved,” Avery echoed, her tone biting. “Like a specimen in a jar.”
Gabby shot her a look. “Av.”
“What?” Avery said, not taking her eyes off Quinn. “She’s talking about buying my company. Forgive me if I don’t feel flattered by her word choice.”
Quinn didn’t flinch. “I respect that this is personal for you,” she said evenly. “You’ve poured yourself into this company. I’m not trying to erase that. I’m trying to give it longevity.”
Avery leaned back, crossing her arms. “By slapping Halo on top of it.”
“The branding is negotiable,” Quinn replied smoothly. “Parent identification is standard, but not required. The name Lilith stands on its own.”
Avery’s jaw flexed, irritation and something else, interest, twisting together in her chest. “You’ve got answers for everything, don’t you?”
“I try to come prepared,” Quinn said, meeting her gaze steadily.
And Avery felt it, the pull. That quiet, commanding confidence that had undone her once already.
Gabby cleared her throat. “Okay, before this turns into a verbal fencing match, I have an idea.”
Both women turned toward her.
Gabby leaned forward, clasping her hands on top of the table.
“What if Quinn spent a few days here? So we could get to know her, and her optics. And she can do the same with us. Just observing. No decisions, no commitments. Get a real sense of how we operate. See what Lilith actually is before we talk numbers or structure.”
Quinn looked intrigued. “You’re suggesting a shadow period?”
“Sort of,” Gabby said. “More of a getting to know each other period—in a business sense. We can see what each other brings to the table. Quinn can sit in on certain things, maybe some meetings, watch our workflow, talk to the team, within reason. I think that’s the only way this conversation means anything. ”
Avery gave her a skeptical look. “You’re seriously inviting her to play intern?”
Gabby shrugged. “If she wants to understand the heart of the company, let her see it.”
Quinn thought for a moment, then nodded. “It’s a good idea. I’d value that opportunity.”
“Of course you would,” Avery muttered.
Gabby ignored her. “You’ll follow our protocol. No interfering with dev stand-ups. No unannounced questions during meetings you’re invited to.”
“Understood,” Quinn said.
Gabby looked to Avery. “Thoughts?”
“Fine, but she signs an NDA,” Avery said flatly. “Observer status doesn’t mean open access.”
“I am not looking to steal anything,” Quinn interrupted, clearly annoyed at the accusation.
“We really don’t know what you’re looking to do,” Avery quipped back.
“I am looking to acquire your company, Avery. I am looking to make Lilith better, and to keep you as the head of the company. As I have said.” Quinn said exasperated.
“Of course we would sign NDAs. I would expect the same from you if I were going to give you information about Halo,” Quinn said, exasperated.
It was silent for a moment. “Okay then.” Avery finally said.
“Okay good, then it’s settled,” Gabby said, pushing back her chair. “Avery and I will have our lawyers draw up an NDA tonight.”
Avery nodded, “Tomorrow at eight-thirty. Staff briefings at nine. Don’t be late.”
Quinn nodded once. “I’ll be here.”
Gabby stood. “Perfect. I’ve got a call, so I’ll leave you two to… coordinate.”
“Gabby,” Avery warned, but she was already out the door, grinning.
Silence hung there like a held breath, the aftertaste of words neither of them wanted to say yet.
Quinn sat across the table—legs crossed, shoulders soft, the kind of still that suggested she could be a statue or a hurricane, depending on her mood.
Her eyes kept moving, though, cataloguing Avery the way a scanner takes in a file.
Avery felt every sweep of Quinn’s gaze and hated how it made her skin prickle. The blazer suddenly felt too tight. The room was too warm. She breathed through it, all sharp angles, not going to give anything away.
Quinn’s mouth curved. “You look so damn good,” she said, low, casual enough to be a joke if Avery wanted it to be.
“Don’t.” Avery didn’t look up. Her voice was flat as glass.
“Don’t what?” Quinn asked, amusement flickering.
“Don’t flirt with me like you can pretend this is only professional,” Avery snapped, finally meeting her. “Don’t act like our night was a footnote you’d file away before your morning meeting.”
Quinn’s expression shifted something like regret and calculation. “I didn’t forget,” she said. “I compartmentalized.”
“Compartmentalized?” Avery repeated, incredulous. “Well, that’s just charming. You file people away like receipts.”
Quinn’s eyes cooled. “This isn’t personal. It’s business.”
“My business is personal,” Avery shot back, voice hard. “I built this in the small hours with a shitty laptop and too much stubbornness to quit. This isn’t a line item for you to optimize. It’s a life.”
“There’s a difference between protecting something and refusing tools that will make it last,” Quinn said, calm but edged.
“Halo has infrastructure you can’t buy overnight: moderation pipelines, server failover, predictive matching AI.
We can stop the outages. Stop churn. Take your community global without losing the voice you love. ”
Avery’s laugh was humorless. “You think throwing tech at it fixes trust? You think advanced matching makes people stop writing to us about being safer in this app than the rest of the internet?”
Quinn leaned forward a hair, voice sharpened. “I think we build on trust, not erase it. I’m not asking you to hand me the keys and walk away. I want to make sure Lilith can survive whatever comes next. That’s not stealing a soul, it’s preserving one.”
“You make preservation sound like a spreadsheet,” Avery said. “Like a chart you can tweak until it glows green.”
Quinn’s jaw tightened briefly, controlled.
Then she softened just enough that Avery’s chest betrayed her and tightened again.
“You think I’m here to conquer. Maybe you’re right to be suspicious.
I don’t blame you. But if I wanted something to conquer, I wouldn’t have agreed to come in and watch, and learn. ”
Avery sighed, “fine”, the word hard as a thrown stone. “You can have your shadow period. But don’t think that’s going to change my mind.”
“I don’t expect it to. I’ll be here at eight-thirty tomorrow morning,” Quinn said, standing.
Avery stood, every movement deliberate.
“Goodbye, Avery,” Quinn said with a smile as she left the conference room.
Avery watched her leave, composed and perfect, and felt the ache twist into something else: furious, needy, furious again.
God, she hated her and fuck her if she didn’t want her at the same time.
* * *
It was just past ten when Gabby, Noella, and Natalie showed up at Avery’s apartment, each carrying something essential.
Gabby brought wine. Noella had a pint of peanut butter cup ice cream, already half melted from the walk.
Natalie arrived with face masks, fuzzy socks, and the kind of calm authority that somehow made her the one in charge, despite being the youngest of them all.