If Althea could have traded places with the water jug in the middle of the long mahogany conference table, she would've done it in a heartbeat. At least the jug wasn't being stared at by twelve pairs of eyes, all belonging to people who probably thought "small talk" was a line item in the quarterly budget.
She adjusted her blazer for the third time in as many minutes and took another sip of water.
Sip. Pause. Sip.
If she kept this up, she was going to need a mid-meeting bathroom break, which would be even more humiliating than sitting here in silence, pretending she belonged.
Maximilian Velasco, seated three chairs away, looked like he had been carved out of some expensive imported marble. His expression was calm, but there was a razor-sharp focus in his eyes as he studied the documents in front of him.
He didn't look at her. Not once.
Which was probably for the best. If he did, he'd see her white-knuckling the pen in her hand like it was a lifeline.
Across the table, the CFO of the Velasco Corporation cleared his throat. "Miss Solace— I mean Mrs. Velasco... your company's proposal is… ambitious."
"That's one word for it," another executive murmured.
Althea tried not to shrink in her chair. She reminded herself she was here for a reason. This was the final meeting to sign off the joint strategy deal between her office firm and the Velasco conglomerate. She just hadn't counted on this level of intimidation.
When Max finally spoke, it was without looking up. "Mrs. Velasco."
She straightened so fast her chair made a small squeak. "Yes?"
"Walk us through the projected integration timeline. From your company's perspective."
Althea's brain promptly supplied a very unhelpful, Uh-oh.
She glanced at her notes. All she could see was her own handwriting, which now looked like chicken scratches in an alien language. She took a breath.
"Well," she began, "we're aiming for an eight-week transition period. The first two weeks will focus on restructuring the shared resources and the... uh client communications. Then we'll move into—"
Max's head lifted slightly. His eyes locked on hers.
She froze. For a second, she forgot what words were. Then, something stubborn in her snapped into place.
"—Then we'll move into streamlining the joint marketing strategies," she continued, her voice steadier. "From there, the operational merge will follow, but staggered to prevent client drop-off. By the end of the eight weeks, we should be at ninety percent integration."
A pause. One of the Velasco executives scribbled something down. Another gave a small nod. Max's expression didn't change, but he leaned back in his chair, almost like he was… satisfied. She could've sworn there was the tiniest glint of approval in his eyes before he looked away.
The meeting went on, filled with the usual corporate jargon that made Althea wonder if half of these people actually spoke English or just lived off buzzwords. But she found her footing, answering questions without tripping over her own tongue.
By the time Max signed the final contract as Chief Strategy Officer, her pulse had slowed from hummingbird speed to something approaching normal.
"Pleasure doing business with you," one of the executives said, shaking her hand.
She smiled politely. "Likewise."
Max didn't say a word to her as everyone filed out.
She should have gone home. She knew she should have. But curiosity, and maybe a reckless streak, dragged her feet toward Max's office instead.
The moment she stepped inside, her breath caught.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows stretched across the far wall, revealing a dizzying panorama of the city from eighty floors up. Cars looked like toy figurines. The river cut through the skyline like a strip of silver ribbon. Clouds drifted so close it felt like she could touch them.
"This is…" she murmured, walking up to the glass, "…wow."
Max entered behind her; jacket now draped over one arm. "Try not to press your face on the glass. We have cleaners who'd file complaints."
She shot him a look over her shoulder. "I wasn't going to."
"You were," he said mildly. She ignored him and kept looking out. "It's like being in another world up here." Max sat down, flipping through some papers. "It's just an office."
"Spoken like someone who's been spoiled by the view." She turned and leaned against the glass. "If I worked here, I'd never get anything done."
"You don't work here," he pointed out.
She grinned. "Yet."
That earned her a brief, very faint smile. He moved to his desk, setting down a folder. "If you're done sight-seeing, we have—"
But she was already leaning halfway over the table to point out a building in the distance. "Is that the art museum? Oh! And... wait, is that the rooftop café with the terrible coffee but amazing scones?"
He exhaled slowly, moving behind her. She was still leaning forward, half-sprawled over the glossy table, when his arm came up beside her.
Her pulse spiked, just for a second, because it felt like he was pinning her there. His shadow fell across her, his suit jacket brushing her sleeve, his hair slipping forward over his brow.
Then his hand reached past her, grabbed a document from the far side of the table, and pulled it back.
"Paper," he said flatly, trying to hold back a laugh.
The bubble of tension popped like a soap film. Althea straightened, spinning around to face him with narrowed eyes. "Really? You had to make it look like some… some swoony drama scene, and for what? A piece of paper?"
Max arched an eyebrow. "You were in the way."
"Oh, in the way, was I?" she said, stepping forward. Before he could react, she caught hold of his tie and gave it a sharp, playful tug, pulling him slightly closer.
His eyes widened; just enough for her to savor the moment.
"Careful, Velasco," she said with a smirk. "From this distance, people might start getting ideas."
For a split second, she swore she saw his composure falter, the corner of his mouth twitching. Then—
The office door burst open.
A young intern took one look at the scene, Max standing too close, Althea gripping his tie, and promptly made a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a squeak before bolting out, the door slamming shut behind them.
Silence.
Althea let go of his tie. "Well. That was subtle."
Max sighed, straightening the knot. "You've probably just started five new rumors."
She grinned. "Only five? I'm disappointed."