The Sterling Enterprises headquarters was a jagged tooth of glass and steel that pierced the New York skyline. It felt less like an office building and more like a cathedral dedicated to the god of Profit.
I followed Reid through the lobby, my heels clicking a frantic, uneven rhythm on the polished obsidian floors. Every security guard, every receptionist in a headset, and every intern with a Starbucks tray stopped to stare. I felt like a glitch in their perfect, expensive system.
"Head up," Reid muttered, not looking back at me. "If you look at your feet, they'll smell the blood in the water."
"It's hard to keep my head up when my stomach is trying to exit through my throat," I whispered back. I smoothed the front of my tailored navy skirt—another piece of "costume" Reid had provided. "What if they ask about the diner? What if they ask how we met?"
"Tell them the truth—the edited version," Reid said, pausing at the heavy oak doors of the boardroom. He turned, his hands coming up to rest on my shoulders. The heat of his touch was the only thing grounding me in this hall of mirrors. "We met at the diner. I was charmed by your wit. I was tired of the shallow women in my circle. You are my reality check, Maya. That's the story. Stick to it."
" Charmed by my wit? You called me a gold-digger five minutes after meeting me."
A ghost of a smirk touched his lips. "Details, Maya. Now, breathe. I'm right beside you."
He pushed the doors open.
The room was a sea of gray hair, tailored suits, and narrowed eyes. Twenty men and women sat around a table that looked like it had been carved from a single ancient redwood. At the far end sat Cassandra Vance, looking smug, and beside her, a man who looked like a more withered, meaner version of Reid.
This was the Board.
"Reid," the man at the head of the table drawled. "You're late. And you brought... company."
"I brought my fiancée, Uncle Marcus," Reid said, his voice dropping into that terrifyingly calm corporate register. He pulled out a chair for me right next to his. "I assumed the board would want to meet the woman who will be holding forty percent of the Sterling voting shares by this time next year."
The room erupted in hushed, panicked whispers. Forty percent. That was Arthur's share.
"That is exactly why we are here, Reid," Marcus said, leaning forward. He didn't look at Reid; he looked at me, his eyes scanning me like I was a faulty piece of machinery. "We've seen the reports. A waitress from a greasy spoon in Queens. No degree. No background. Family debts totaling six figures. You expect us to believe this is a match of the heart and not a financial transaction to bypass your father's will?"
I felt the heat rise in my neck. The "human" urge to swing my purse at his head was strong, but I forced my hands to stay flat on the table.
"My background isn't a secret, Mr. Sterling," I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my lungs. "I worked at that 'greasy spoon' to pay for my mother's chemotherapy. I haven't finished my degree because I chose to keep her alive instead of buying a diploma. If you're looking for someone with a pedigree, you've got the wrong girl. But if you're looking for someone who knows the value of a dollar—and the value of the people who earn them—then you're looking at the right one."
Cassandra let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "How touching. A regular Robin Hood in a borrowed dress. Reid, she's playing on your guilt. She's a professional victim."
"A victim?" I turned to her, my eyes flashing. This wasn't the script. This was me. "I've worked eighty hours a week since I was eighteen. I've balanced books, managed staff, and dealt with people like you who think a bank balance is a personality trait. I've survived things that would make your skin crawl, Cassandra. What have you done besides inherit a name?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Even Reid was staring at me, his eyebrows arched in surprise.
"Enough," Marcus snapped. "Character is one thing. Competence is another. Reid, the merger with the Halloway group is on the line. They want stability. They want a traditional Sterling match. This... distraction... is costing us millions in stock confidence."
"Then let it cost," Reid said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "The contract stands. Maya is my choice. If the board moves to vote me out based on my marital status, I will take my forty percent, her forty percent, and we will start a competing firm by Monday morning. I've already had the paperwork drafted."
I blinked. He was bluffing again. He had to be. But the way he said it—with such cold, absolute certainty—made my heart skip a beat. He was burning the bridge to protect the bridge-builder.
Marcus's face turned a deep shade of purple. "You wouldn't dare. You'd tank the Sterling name."
"Watch me," Reid said.
For a long, agonizing minute, nobody moved. I could hear the hum of the air conditioning and the frantic scratching of a secretary's pen in the corner.
"We will take it under advisement," Marcus finally muttered, his voice thick with loathing. "But don't think this is over, Reid. One slip. One hint that this 'romance' is a sham, and we will strip you of every cent."
"I look forward to disappointing you," Reid said. He stood up, gripped my hand, and led me out of the room before they could change their minds.
We didn't speak until we were back in the elevator. The doors slid shut, and the high-speed descent made my stomach drop.
Reid let go of my hand. He was shaking—just a little.
"You," he said, turning to me, "are a liability."
"A liability? I just saved your job!" I yelled, the adrenaline finally boiling over. "I stood up to your dinosaur uncle and that Barbie-doll-from-hell!"
"You went off-script!" Reid stepped closer, his eyes wild with a mix of anger and something else I couldn't name. "You told them about your mother. You told them you were 'balancing books.' You gave them a person to attack instead of a mask to look at!"
"I gave them the truth!" I stepped into his space, my chest heaving. "Maybe that's why you're so scared, Reid. Because for the first time in your life, you're standing next to something real, and you don't know how to handle it!"
"I handle reality just fine," he growled.
He grabbed the back of my neck, his thumb pressing into the sensitive skin behind my ear. For a second, I thought he was going to shake me. Instead, he pulled me forward until our foreheads were touching.
"You think you're so different from them?" he whispered, his voice jagged. "You took the five million, Maya. You signed the paper. You're just as bought and paid for as the rest of this city."
"Then why did you defend me?" I challenged, my voice a whisper. "Why risk the company for a 'bought' girl?"
His gaze dropped to my mouth. The elevator continued its silent drop, but the world inside this small metal box was spinning out of control.
"Because," he muttered, his grip tightening, "I can't have anyone else breaking my favorite toy."
Before I could process the insult or the heat behind it, the elevator dinged. The doors opened to the busy lobby, and Reid smoothed his hair, fixed his tie, and stepped out as the Ice King once more.
I stayed in the elevator for a second longer, my heart hammering a warning I knew I was going to ignore.
Forty percent, I thought. He gave me forty percent of his world.
And I was starting to realize that five million dollars might be the cheapest part of this deal.