Page 220 of Terms of Exposure
Chapter forty-eight
Emma
The dress was laid out on the bed when I woke up.
Navy blue. Structured silhouette.
A neckline that saidI'm in chargewithout screaming it.
Next to it sat a small card in Damien's handwriting.
You're going to be incredible today. Wear this and remember who you are.—D
I traced the edge of the card. Butterflies took flight.
He'd already left for the office. Early meetings, he'd said.
Though I suspected he just wanted to give me space.
Space to have my existential crisis in private before walking into a building full of people who were about to learn I was sleeping with the CEO.
Not just sleeping, I reminded myself.
In a relationship.
A real one.
One with pizza nights and his mother's texts and Sunday family dinners.
I touched the collar at my throat.
Not to mention this.
I showered slowly, letting the hot water work out the tension in my shoulders.
Went through my skincare routine twice because I forgot whether I'd already done it.
Stared at my reflection for a full minute.
Dark circles. Cover those.
Hair doing that weird flippy thing. Fix that.
Expression says "about to vomit from anxiety." Work on that.
Thirty minutes of frantic preparation later, I reassessed.
The woman looking back at me belonged in a boardroom.
Wear this and remember who you are.
"I'm Emma Sinclair," I told my reflection.
"And I'm about to walk into Falkirk and tell everyone I'm in love with Damien Holt."
I squared my shoulders.
"And if they have a problem with it, they can kick rocks."
