Chapter 15 #2
The announcer's voice booms through the speakers, rich and authoritative: "Please welcome to the stage the visionary leader behind one of the world's most innovative technology companies, CEO of Horde Tech, Thrall Orkenshade."
And then he walks onto that stage, his massive frame filling the space as though he was always meant to own it. His movements are fluid, controlled, utterly commanding, and I'm holding my breath.
The keynote is flawless.
I watch from the wings, tablet forgotten in my hands, as Thrall commands the room with the same ruthless efficiency he brings to board meetings. His voice carries perfectly, deep, measured, absolutely confident, and every single person in that ballroom is leaning forward, hanging on his words.
He talks about innovation, about disrupting outdated systems, about building technology that serves people instead of controlling them.
He's funny, which surprises some of the investors who only know his reputation for blunt intensity.
He's charming, which surprises absolutely no one who's ever seen him negotiate a contract.
And every so often, his eyes flick to the wings. To me.
It's brief, barely noticeable, but I catch it every single time. A momentary check-in, a grounding glance, like he needs to confirm I'm still here watching him.
My chest tightens with something dangerously close to overwhelming affection.
The Q&A session runs smoothly, Thrall fielding questions about market expansion and ethical AI development with the kind of thoughtful precision that makes him so devastatingly good at his job.
He goes slightly over his allotted time by two minutes, but I don't cut his mic because the last question is from a young Orc entrepreneur asking for advice on starting a business, and Thrall's answer is generous and unexpectedly vulnerable.
"Build something you believe in," he says, his voice carrying clearly through the ballroom. "Don't chase trends or investors or approval. Build something that matters to you, and find people who believe in it as fiercely as you do. Everything else is negotiable."
The applause is thunderous.
He exits the stage smoothly, and the moment he's in the wings, his entire posture shifts. The commanding CEO melts away, replaced by something softer, more open. He walks directly to me, ignoring Kiera and the AV tech and the assistant coordinator hovering nearby with his water bottle.
"You went over time," I inform him, crossing my arms even as my mouth threatens to betray me with a smile.
"By two minutes."
"Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds."
"Are you going to punish me?"
"Later." I hand him the water bottle, which he accepts without breaking eye contact. "You were brilliant. The investors are going to be fighting each other to throw money at you."
"I don't care about the investors." He takes a long drink, then sets the bottle aside and steps closer, crowding into my space in a way that's becoming deliciously familiar. "I care about what you thought."
"I thought you were professional, articulate, and devastatingly competent."
"High praise from CEO Lin."
"Don't let it go to your head." I reach up, adjusting his tie again even though it doesn't need it, just because I like the excuse to touch him. "You have the VIP investor reception in thirty minutes. I need you to circulate, shake hands, and be charming."
"I'm always charming," he says, and there's that infuriating confidence again, the kind that comes from someone who's never been told no in his entire life.
"You're intimidating," I counter, pulling my hand back so I can gesture at him properly.
"There's a significant difference. Charm is disarming.
Charm makes people want to be around you.
What you do is make people nervous. You walk into a room and everyone suddenly remembers they have somewhere else to be. "
"And yet you're still standing here."
"Because someone has to keep you from saying something that'll tank the company's valuation." I narrow my eyes at him, but I can feel the corner of my mouth twitching upward traitorously. "You find me charming. That's what matters."
"I find you tolerable," I say firmly, crossing my arms again as a defensive measure. But even as the words leave my mouth, I know he can read the lie written all over my face, in the way my eyes soften when they land on his, in the way I haven't actually moved away from him. "Barely."
"Tolerable," he repeats, as he glints with amusement. "Is that what we're calling it?"
He grins, catching my hand where it rests against his chest and bringing it to his mouth. He presses a kiss to my knuckles, his tusks grazing lightly against my skin, and my entire nervous system lights up in response.
"Thrall," I warn, glancing around to make sure no one's watching this deeply unprofessional display. "We're working."
"You're working. I'm appreciating my favorite event planner."
"I'm your only event planner."
"Exactly." He lowers my hand but doesn't release it, his thumb tracing absent circles against my palm. "Come with me to the reception."
"I have to monitor the breakout sessions and make sure the catering staff doesn't run out of—"
"Kiera can handle it. She's terrifyingly competent. I wonder where she learned that." His eyes gleam with amusement. "Come with me. Let me show you off."
I hesitate, mentally running through the afternoon schedule. The breakout sessions are already in progress, the catering is stocked, the AV is stable, and Kiera genuinely is capable of handling any minor emergencies.
"Fifteen minutes," I concede. "Then I need to check on the evening gala setup."
"Deal."
He keeps hold of my hand as we navigate through the backstage area, his grip warm and solid and possessive in a way that should probably annoy me but instead makes me feel grounded. Safe. Claimed.
The VIP reception is being held in a smaller, more intimate ballroom adjacent to the main event space.
I designed it specifically for networking—soft lighting, comfortable seating clusters, circulating appetizers, and an open bar stocked with premium options.
The investors are already mingling when we enter, and several heads turn immediately toward Thrall.
He's magnetic like this, commanding attention without even trying. But instead of releasing my hand and diving into the schmoozing, he keeps me tucked against his side as he moves through the room.
"Thrall," I hiss quietly, "you're supposed to be networking."
"I am networking. With you. Right here."
"That's not—"
"Thrall!" One of the investors, a broad-shouldered Orc with silver-streaked hair and expensive cufflinks, approaches with an extended hand. "Exceptional keynote. The ethical AI framework you're developing is exactly the kind of forward-thinking approach the industry needs."
Thrall shakes his hand firmly. "Appreciate it, Arga. Have you met Romee Lin? She's the CEO of Lin Event Solutions. Everything you're seeing today—the flawless execution, the seamless production—that's all her vision."
I blink, momentarily thrown by the introduction. I'm used to being acknowledged as "the planner," but the way Thrall frames it, the genuine pride in his voice, makes it sound like I built something monumental.
Which, I suppose, I did.
Arga turns to me with obvious interest. "Lin Event Solutions? I've heard exceptional things. You're the one who organized the Cascade Tech merger gala last month, correct?"
"I am." I extend my hand, slipping automatically into professional mode. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
We talk for several minutes about event logistics and corporate culture, and I'm vaguely aware of Thrall watching me with that same intense focus he brings to everything.
He doesn't interrupt, doesn't try to steer the conversation back to himself.
He just stands there, solid and present, letting me shine.
When Arga finally excuses himself to grab another drink, I turn to Thrall with narrowed eyes.
"You're doing this on purpose."
"Doing what?"
"Introducing me as an equal. Making sure people know I'm not just 'the planner' you hired."
"You're not just the planner I hired," he says simply. "You're the woman I love, who also happens to run the most competent event company in the city. Why wouldn't I introduce you properly?"
My chest does something complicated and warm. "You're going to make me cry during a professional event."
"Please don't. You'll ruin your intimidating reputation." But his hand tightens around mine, and I can see the genuine affection in his eyes.
We circulate for another ten minutes, Thrall making a point to introduce me to every major investor in the room. By the time I finally extract myself to check on the evening gala setup, I've collected four new business cards and three requests for consultations.
"I told you," Thrall murmurs as I reluctantly pull away. "You're brilliant."
"I'm going back to work before you completely derail my professionalism," I say, though my hand lingers in his for just a moment longer than strictly necessary. I can feel the warmth of his palm, the solid presence of him, and it's dangerously distracting.
"Meet me after the gala." It's not a question. It's a demand wrapped in the softest possible tone, which somehow makes it infinitely more compelling.
I pull my hand away, reluctantly, and cross my arms over my chest. "Thrall, the gala runs until eleven. I'll be exhausted. I need to oversee breakdown, debrief with Kiera, make sure the catering team handles cleanup, and—"
"I don't care," he interrupts, and there's something in his voice that makes my breath catch. Something that sounds like genuine intensity beneath the casual words. "Meet me. Please."
The please is what gets me. Thrall doesn't do pleading. He doesn't do vulnerability. And yet there it is, rough-edged and sincere, hanging between us like a challenge I don't know how to refuse.