Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Emily
“Oh, okay, Corporate Barbie. I’m loving this.” Kassie gives me a slow, appreciative wave of her hand.
I’ve ditched the denim and running shorts in favor of a black pencil skirt and a pale pink silk blouse. I know I look the part, but the professional exterior doesn’t stop the rolling waves of nausea. I feel like I might vomit at any second.
“Coffee?” Kassie gestures, holding up the pot.
I wince, pressing a hand to my stomach. “God, no. I’ll definitely throw up if I do.”
“Babe, you need to relax. We’ve got this thing nailed,” she says with enviable confidence.
I wish I shared her bravado. I know our facts are buttoned down and our figures are watertight.
There isn’t a single stone left unturned.
But it’s not the math that has me unsettled.
It’s the reality of a looming face-to-face showdown with the man who put me in a holding cell and ripped my entire life out from under me.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” Wyatt says, leaning heavily against the soapstone counter.
His arms are folded tightly across his chest. He looks strained. His eyes are dark and rimmed with the exhaustion of a man who didn’t sleep a wink last night, with today looming over us.
Kassie shoots him a warning look, but he ignores her. His focus is locked entirely on me.
I move over to him, and his hands instinctively wrap around my ass as I press into him. I need the contact as much as he does right now.
“Wyatt, we’ve busted our asses for a month over this challenge proposal,” Kassie interjects. “There’s no way they can move forward without a massive lawsuit. We’ve got ‘em over a barrel.”
“I know that. I don’t doubt either of you.” He pulls me closer, his palm rubbing my arm. “But I should go with you, baby. I could sit in the back. Just so they know someone is watching.”
I reach up, my fingers trembling slightly as I adjust the collar of his flannel. “Wyatt, we both know you don’t want to sit in the back. You want to put a fist through Rick’s face the second he opens his mouth.”
He looks down, his jaw ticking. I can see the torment in his expression, the thought of the woman he loves being trapped in a boardroom with a man who once laid hands on her is eating him alive.
“I’ll put my own damn fist in his face if he looks at her wrong,” Kassie chirps, checking her lipstick in the reflection of a compact. “Don’t worry, little brother. She’s got the math, and I’ve got the mouth. They aren’t going to survive this.”
Wyatt leans down, pressing a gentle, searing kiss to my lips as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of his own strength into me.
“Okay, baby. I know you’re going to kill it,” he says, though his voice lacks conviction.
“You got the laptop?” I ask Kassie as I reluctantly release myself from his arms, my voice sounding smaller than I’d like.
“Yes. Data is triple checked and backed up.”
Owen walks in from the mudroom as we gear up to leave. He stops, looking at us, the two women about to go to war for his family legacy, and tips his hat with a solemn respect. “Give ‘em hell, girls.”
I take a deep, steadying inhale. “Okay. We should probably head out.” It feels more like a question than a decision.
Before I can reach the door, Wyatt pulls me back firmly by the wrist. He cups my jaw, pulling me into one last, dizzying kiss that tells me how desperate he feels.
“You come find me as soon as you’re back. You hear me?” he demands. The look in his eyes is raw.
My lip trembles and I can only manage a brief, jerky nod.
“Come on, Superstar,” Kassie proclaims, looping her arm through mine and pulling me toward the door. “We’ve got some revenge to dish out.”
* * *
Kassie and I make our way up the imposing steps of the county courthouse in Hamilton. In the silence of the morning, I find myself lulled into focus by the rhythmic, synchronized click-clack of our stilettos against the marble.
I’m a little in awe of her right now. Kassie has completely come alive in this world.
She’s walking with an air of absolute authority, dressed to kill in her black power suit, her head held high.
She is a force of nature, and despite the nerves fizzing like acid under my skin, I feel a surge of pride for her and a lump in my throat from her unwavering support.
With her by my side, her confidence is palpable.
It’s infectious. For a brief moment, I start to feel like we might actually pull this off.
We’re led into a waiting room in the heart of the old building.
The scent of ancient carpet and heavy, polished wood is attacking my senses, making my nausea worse.
We’re shown to a pair of high-backed wooden chairs, the most uncomfortable seats known to man, and the second I sit down, my right leg starts bouncing a mile a minute.
“Would you stop?” Kassie whispers.
She doesn't sound annoyed. She places a firm, grounding hand on my knee, forcing the movement to halt.
“I can’t help it,” I breathe, my fingers twisting the strap of my laptop bag. “What if he’s already talked to them? What if they’ve already decided?”
“Then we un-decide them,” she says, her eyes flashing with that familiar Miller steel. “People have spent far too long listening to men in suits tell them what to do with their land. They aren't ready for us, Emily. Especially not you.”
The heavy double doors at the end of the hall creak open, and a clerk sticks his head out. “Miller? The board is ready for the technical challenge.”
My heart does a violent somersault against my ribs. This is it. No more hiding. Just the numbers, the dirt, and the man who tried to break me.
I stand, smoothing the front of my skirt and straightening my trench coat that’s hooked over my arm.
“Show time,” I say, my voice finally finding its floor.
We push through the heavy double doors of the chamber, and the air in the room feels instantly colder in the windowless room.
My breath hitches as we’re stared down by a row of expensive-looking suits and smug, bored faces sitting behind the long mahogany table. I try not to look at them directly, keeping my focus on the podium, but then I catch the eye of one charcoal-suited asshole at the end of the consultant table.
My blood runs cold.
The feeling is clearly mutual. The second Rick sets eyes on the local nuisance drafted to delay his project, his jaw practically hits the floor.
The smug, superior tilt of his head vanishes, replaced by an exposing shock that almost makes me want to stumble.
He hasn’t changed a bit. His jet black hair is still overly slicked back with far too much product.
And his golf club permata tan clashes against his white shirt. He is the definition of a waking ick.
I physically recoil as I remember the night he put his disgusting hands on me.
Kassie feels the shift in my breathing. She gives my pinky finger a quick, bruising squeeze. “Don’t look away,” she commands in a lethal whisper. “You stare that motherfucker down, Em.”
I swallow hard, forcing my chin up. I don't look away. I watch the way his knuckles turn white as he grips his pen, the way he frantically looks toward the chairman as if he could somehow make me disappear.
We reach the table, and the chairman, who looks like he could have been running this show since before this building was opened, glances over his spectacles at us.
“Ms. Miller, I understand you’ve brought along a technical consultant to challenge the Geotechnical Survey for the Bitterroot Corridor?”
“I have, Mr. Chairman,” Kassie says, her voice ringing out through the vaulted room.
She doesn’t even glance at Rick. She treats him like he’s part of the furniture.
“I’d like to introduce Emily Callahan. She’s a licensed structural engineer, and she has some…
discrepancies to bring to the board’s attention. ”
I step forward, my heart thundering so hard I can barely feel my legs.
I make the mistake of glancing up at Rick again.
The initial shock on his face has been replaced by a look of sheer amusement.
He’s leaning back, enjoying the sight of me struggling.
My hands are trembling so violently that I misalign the HDMI cord, scraping it uselessly against the side of the laptop.
Rick lets out a condescending snort from his side of the table.
I freeze. The sound of his derision hits me like a bucket of ice water, but instead of shattering, I go still.
My teeth clench together until it’s painful as I feel his creepy eyes tracking my movement, just like they did that night.
I remember how he made me feel—worthless.
Like, the only reason I was in the room was because of the way I looked.
But over the last few months, I haven’t been made to feel like that once.
The men on the Miller ranch are undoubtedly red-blooded males.
I’ve seen the way their eyes follow me, but they haven’t once questioned my ability.
They haven’t once disrespected me or my work.
In fact, they’ve damn well appreciated it, and I’ve never felt so safe in my life.
I feel a sudden tingle on my lips, the sensation of the kiss Wyatt planted there before we left. I feel the weight of Alex’s warm arms around my neck in the barn as he holds me tightly. I remember the way Wyatt held me that night on my daddy’s porch when he came to tell me he loved me.
All I can hear is the sound of my own heart palpitating frantically in my rib cage as I look toward the man who tried to tear my life away from me. The man who broke me and let my daddy go to his grave, not knowing if I was safe.
It’s time to bury this motherfucker once and for all.
I look him dead in the eye and deliberately slam my laptop shut. The crack echoes through the silent chamber. We may have spent the last few weeks agonizing over this report, but right now, there’s enough fire in me to burn this whole place down in one breath.
“Fellas, I won’t keep you long,” I say, rounding the podium.