Page 189 of Terms of Exposure
Emma raised her hand.
Slow.
Deliberate.
"Six to five," I said. "The motion carries."
Nathan's face went the color of old brick.
Emma didn't smile.
She held his gaze—steady, unblinking—until he looked away first.
I sat at the head of the table and watched the woman I loved dismantle my enemy with nothing but competence and composure.
Pride settled into my chest.
This is what it feels like to be hers.
Chapter forty-three
Damien
The meeting was over. The others filtered out.
"You were amazing," I said quietly.
Emma grinned. "Do you really think—"
"Damien, may I have a word with you?"
Nathan's oily voice cut through the room, slicing cleanly through my conversation with Emma.
I turned slowly, locking my face into professional neutrality. "Of course, Mr. Bell."
He smiled with every one of his coffee-stained teeth. "My office or yours?"
"Mine."
Whatever he was planning, I wasn't giving him home-court advantage. Or an audience.
I turned to excuse myself, but Emma was already gone.
Good.
I didn't look at Nathan as I left. It was his choice to follow. His meeting. His problem. I was done giving him even the illusion of control.
We passed photos mounted along the walls like trophies—my first meeting with Bill Gates, one with Tim Cook, and then Shaq. That onealways made me smirk; next to him, I looked like a kid in his father's suit.
A moment later, we crossed into my office. The door closed behind us with a quiet click.
"What's this about, Nathan?" I asked, skipping the preamble entirely as I settled into my seat.
"A conversation," he said, sinking into the chair across from my desk. "One long overdue."
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the freshly lacquered surface. "About?"
His grin turned predatory. "Emma, of course."
