Chapter 17
Quinn
The alarm went off at five, but Quinn was already hovering somewhere near awake.
She reached for her phone before it could buzz again and silenced it without looking.
The apartment was still dark, the kind of heavy quiet that only exists before the city decides to start moving.
She sat up slowly, rolled her shoulders once, and let her feet find the floor.
Mornings were never chaotic for her. They were automatic.
Coffee first Black. No sugar. She poured it into a glass mug and stood at the kitchen island, scrolling through her inbox while the heat seeped into her palm.
Singapore had sent updates overnight. London needed a decision on logistics.
Three acquisition summaries waited at the top of her screen, flagged and tidy.
She worked through them with steady focus, answering, approving, redirecting, all before the mug was empty.
By the time she changed into black leggings and a Halo tank, the sky outside had only just begun to lighten.
She swept her hair back, added enough product to keep it in place, slid her earbuds in, and headed downstairs.
The private gym was quiet, just a few familiar strangers moving through their own routines.
No one made eye contact. No one tried to talk to her. She preferred it that way.
An hour disappeared the way it always did.
Treadmill first, pushing until her lungs burned.
Then weights. Then the sauna, where the heat wrapped around her and forced her to sit still for exactly ten minutes.
Routine wasn’t just discipline. It was control.
It was proof that everything stayed where she put it.
When she stepped back into her apartment, steam still clinging to her skin, the city had started to wake. Light stretched across the skyline outside her windows, pale and hazy, softening the buildings but not her edges.
She showered, dressed with the same efficiency she brought to everything else, and by 8:30 she was walking through the marble lobby of Halo’s downtown LA headquarters with coffee in one hand and her tablet in the other.
Her heels struck the floor in a steady rhythm that echoed faintly through the open space.
Alyssa was already in her office when Quinn walked in, tablet tucked to her chest, expression alert.
“ValorTech team’s downstairs,” Alyssa said. “Ten minutes.”
“Good,” Quinn replied, setting her coffee on the desk without breaking stride. “Let’s get this done.”
* * *
The conference room was all clean lines, quiet power. The long walnut table gleamed under the recessed lights. Quinn sat at the head, stylus in hand, coffee untouched beside her. Her suit was navy today—precise, sharp, and immaculate. Alyssa stood just behind her, professional mask in place.
At exactly nine o’clock, Greyson Vale entered with ValorTech’s lead attorney, Dana Marks. Quinn didn’t rise. She didn’t smile. She merely nodded once. “Ms. Vale. Ms. Marks.”
They shook hands quickly and took their seats. Quinn tapped the screen of her tablet, pulling up the acquisition outline.
“We’ll be brief,” she said, voice clipped but calm. “Halo will be acquiring all ValorTech assets, effective upon close. This includes all proprietary software, patent portfolios, contracts in progress, and outstanding IP.”
Greyson shifted in her chair. Dana opened her mouth, but Quinn kept going.
“Halo will not be retaining current leadership. That includes both of you and all C-suite executives. Severance packages have been issued as goodwill. They are not negotiable.”
Greyson bristled. “That wasn’t the initial discussion. We were under the impression—”
“You were under the impression you’d retain authority in a company you mismanaged.
” Quinn interrupted, tone even. “Your burn rate tripled in two quarters. You missed federal compliance filings twice last year. Your codebase hasn’t passed audit since 2023.
We’re acquiring your infrastructure. Not your leadership. ”
The room fell silent.
Alyssa slid a folder across the table. “Full package—timeline, transition plan, remaining obligations.”
Dana picked it up, lips tight. Greyson didn’t touch hers.
“I understand this isn’t what you were hoping for,” Quinn said. “It’s more than most companies in your position receive. You’ll find the terms fair.”
Greyson scoffed. “You’re cold as hell, you know that?”
Quinn didn’t blink. “I’m not here to make you comfortable. I’m here to make this company functional.”
Silence.
Dana finally said, “We’ll review the materials and respond by tomorrow.”
“You have until end of business,” Quinn replied.
The meeting ended five minutes later. Greyson and Dana left without shaking hands.
Quinn stayed seated, already typing notes into her tablet. When the door closed, Alyssa let out a low breath. “You’re ruthless.”
“I’m efficient,” Quinn said. “There’s a difference.”
Alyssa smiled faintly. “Want a coffee refill?”
“God, yes.”
Alyssa left. Quinn stared at the door for a moment, then finally exhaled. The deal would go through. They always did, as far as Quinn was concerned. That wasn’t the part that got to her.
What lingered, uninvited, was the memory of Avery’s mouth on hers, her voice quiet when she’d said, I’m going to miss you.
Quinn shook her head and stood, collecting her notes. She didn’t dwell— not during business hours, not in Quinn’s world.
* * *
By the time she returned to her office after further meetings, it was nearly noon.
The skyline shimmered through the glass, bright and relentless.
She loosened the top button of her shirt and sank into her chair.
For a long moment, she just stared at the city—its precision, its pace, its loneliness.
Her hand hovered over her phone. She didn’t do this. She didn’t reach out. She didn’t call people just because she missed them. Quinn Sinclare didn’t do yearning.
Still, she scrolled to Avery’s name and pressed call before she could stop herself.
It rang twice.
“Hi,” Avery answered, sounding a little breathless and warm through the speaker.
Quinn closed her eyes, her whole body softening despite herself. “Hi,” she said quietly. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
There was a soft pause on the other end of the line, and when Avery spoke again, Quinn could hear the smile in her tone. “Hi back,” Avery said lightly. “You okay?”
“I think so,” Quinn murmured, shifting back in her chair. “Do you have a couple minutes?”
“For you?” Avery let out a soft laugh. “Of course. Talk to me.”
Quinn exhaled slowly and leaned her head back against the chair. “Flight was good,” she said. “Spent most of it thinking about Lilith. Ran some numbers. Brainstormed a few options. Still some things to figure out.”
“Always,” Avery teased.
“When I got in this morning, I had a quick cup of coffee,” Quinn continued. “Then a Singapore call that could’ve been an email. And this morning’s ValorTech meeting. Rougher than expected.”
“Did you have to go all scary-hot CEO mode?” Avery asked.
Quinn let out a low, surprised laugh. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I did.”
“That’s so fucking hot,” Avery said without hesitation.
Quinn smiled to herself, shaking her head slightly. “You’re ridiculous,” she said.
“I know,” Avery replied easily.
Quinn let the quiet stretch for a moment, listening to the faint background noise on Avery’s end and the steady rhythm of her breathing. “How was your morning?” she asked.
“Pretty good,” Avery said. “Henrietta was pretending to be mad at me before I left for the office, again.”
“Criminal,” Quinn said solemnly.
“She thinks so,” Avery replied, her laughter soft and familiar.
Quinn let the warmth settle through her. The contrast between her morning of cold precision and this connection left her slightly off-balance in a way she wasn’t used to.
“I’ve got a few things to wrap up,” Quinn said quietly. “Probably several hours before I can even think about leaving the office.”
“Rude of work to get in the way like that,” Avery said, her tone amused but understanding. “FaceTime me when you’re home? I still want the grand tour.”
“Sounds good,” Quinn said.
“Talk soon?” Avery asked gently.
“Talk soon,” Quinn replied.
The line clicked off.
Quinn lowered her phone to the desk and leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling for a long moment.
“Fuck, I’m screwed.”
And somehow, she didn’t hate it.
A couple of hours slipped by the way they always did in her office—measured in emails answered, signatures approved, decisions made without hesitation. The building hummed around her. Assistants moved in and out. Meetings started and ended. Quinn moved through all of it with her usual precision.
And still. She stared out at the skyline, the glass stretching endless and sharp in the afternoon light. Work waited. It always did.
Quinn pulled her laptop closer, diving into the next round of reports. Performance reviews. Partnership updates. A list of potential mergers that would take the rest of the week to assess. The numbers steadied her—the logic, the clean simplicity of cause and effect.
Still, every so often, her eyes drifted to her phone, by the third drift, she gave in.
She picked it up, thumb scrolling through her contacts, then switched over to the browser. The thought hit her suddenly, unplanned, a flicker of warmth that cut through the glass and steel of her morning.
She searched for a same-day delivery service. Found one that promised luxury gifts within four hours anywhere in New York. She clicked through quickly, choosing a bouquet first, deep purple ranunculus and white roses, and then hesitated before adding something else.
Something that would make Avery blush.
Her lips curved slightly as she scrolled through another tab, selecting a discreet box: a high-end remote control vibrator, app-synced and Wi-Fi enabled. It wasn’t subtle. Neither was she.
She typed the message,
I hope you have a great week. Thinking about you.
—Q
She confirmed the delivery address, set it for a four-hour window, and hit send.
A small thrill ran through her at the thought of Avery’s expression when it arrived—the way Quinn imagined she’d smile first, then bite her lip when she realized what the second package was.
The thought lingered, refusing to let go as quickly as she expected.
A soft knock at the door pulled her out of it.
Alyssa leaned in, tablet in hand. “Lunch?”
“Mm.” Quinn blinked, shifting gears. “Grilled salmon. Roasted vegetables. And a black coffee.”
“Got it.” Alyssa disappeared, leaving Quinn alone again with her thoughts and the steady hum of downtown LA below.
She worked until the food arrived. Ate half of it while answering emails, letting the rhythm pull her back into focus until her phone lit up across the desk, flashing Braeden.
She smiled before she even picked it up. “Hey.”
“Jesus Christ, Sinclare,” Braeden’s voice came through warm, teasing, and far too awake for this hour. “You sound chipper for someone who recently flew cross-country.”
Quinn laughed under her breath. “Maybe I am.”
“Oh no. Something’s up. I can hear it. Spill.”
“Nothing’s up.”
“Bullshit,” Braeden said. “You sound like someone trying really hard to sound normal, which means you’re definitely not.”
Quinn sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It was a good trip.”
Braeden hummed. “Good as in successful deal? Or good as in you finally let someone past that scary-CEO shell of yours?”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Both, technically.”
“Oh my god, technically,” Braeden laughed. “You’re insufferable.”
“So, she tells me.”
Braeden whistled low. “Wow. You really don’t do anything halfway, do you? Still sleeping with the woman whose company you were supposed to acquire?”
“She’s more than that,” Quinn said quietly.
Braeden’s tone softened. “You like her, I know, but you have to tell her that.”
Quinn stared out at the skyline, the morning haze bright against the glass. “I shouldn’t.”
“That’s not the right answer.”
After a pause, Quinn admitted, “Yeah. I know.”
Braeden was quiet for a moment, then said, “Okay, tell me everything. What’s she like?”
Quinn leaned back, eyes tracing the skyline. “Smart. Funny. Messy in a way that feels alive. She built Lilith from the ground up. She’s passionate. And she challenges me. Makes me—” she stopped, exhaled, “lose control a little.”
Braeden let out a low laugh. “Holy shit. You don’t just like her, you’re smitten.”
“It’s not…” Quinn started, then shook her head. “Maybe I am. I don’t know. It’s been a long time since someone got to me like that.”
“Got to you,” Braeden repeated, smiling through her tone. “You mean since you let anyone try. Are you actually thinking about dating her?”
“That’s the problem,” Quinn said. “It’s not a deal yet. We’re still negotiating.”
Braeden groaned. “Of course you’d fall for someone you’re literally in business with.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?”
Quinn rubbed a hand across her jaw. “I can handle both. I just have to compartmentalize.”
Braeden snorted. “Right. Because you’ve always been great at that when feelings are involved.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m not,” Braeden said gently. “I’m just saying, maybe this is worth not overthinking. She sounds good for you.”
Quinn was quiet for a moment. “I sent her flowers.”
“Flowers?” Braeden said, mock-shocked. “From you?”
“And something else.”
Braeden gasped. “Oh no. What did you do?”
“A toy,” Quinn said. “Remote-controlled. Same-day delivery.”
There was a beat of silence, then Braeden laughed so hard Quinn had to pull the phone away from her ear. “You’re out of your mind!”
“Probably.”
“You definitely are. Jesus, Quinn. You went from emotional repression to long-distance sex toy in three days.”
Quinn smiled, resting her chin in her hand. “You make it sound reckless.”
“It is reckless. And honestly? I’m proud of you for it.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. “Thank you, I think.”
“Call me after she gets it,” Braeden said. “I need details.”
“Goodbye, Braeden.”
“Don’t hang up, I’m being supportive!”
“You’re being nosy.”
“It’s my charm,” Braeden said brightly. “Alright, go back to being terrifying in glass conference rooms. Just… try not to scare this one off.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good girl,” Braeden said, voice softening. “And hey, Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“Let yourself be happy. You don’t have to earn it first.”
Quinn was quiet, looking out at the skyline again. The soft smog haze, the faint glint of sunlight against mirrored glass.
“I’ll think about it,” she said finally.
“Good enough for me.”
When they hung up, the silence settled again. Quinn set her phone down, the faintest smile pulling at her mouth. For once, she didn’t open another report. She stared out the window, waiting.
* * *