Chapter 6 CHAPTER 6

Chapter 6

The Board Room

Aria Hartwell.

The argument started before the coffee on our desk had even cooled. I was boiling with rage at Cassian's point of view when he knew so well what happened in 2019 when the company followed the same strategy he was currently suggesting.

"The Meridian acquisition is a liability we cannot afford," I said, keeping my voice level despite the way Cassian's jaw had been tightening for the last four minutes. "The debt ratio alone should disqualify it from consideration."

"The debt ratio is manageable given their asset portfolio." Cassian's voice was controlled, clipped, the kind of tone that made junior staff snap to attention and nod along. "The long-term yield justifies the short-term exposure."

"For whom?" I turned to face him directly, ignoring the twelve pairs of eyes tracking between us like a tennis match. "Because the projections you're citing assume a market stability that three separate analysts have already flagged as optimistic. Now, let's see page forty-two." I clicked on the slide. "Meridian's primary revenue stream is tied to commercial real estate in three cities currently experiencing negative occupancy trends. Acquiring them now is not a bold strategy."

I let the board chew on that statement, and they did, silently while Cassian stared at me with an expression I couldn't quite place. Somewhere between impressed or outright anger because I was challenging him in front of the board. This was something that had never happened to him before because his word was always taken as if he were God.

His heated looked turned into something else, that I knew I had to distract myself from it before...

"The board will note Miss Hartwell's concerns," he said smoothly after a while, and turning to address the room as if he had already dismissed me. "However—"

"The board might also note," I interrupted, still standing, and I felt every muscle in my body brace for the fallout, "that Hartwell Industries made a near-identical acquisition in 2019 under similar market conditions. Look at page sixty-seven again. We wrote down forty million dollars eighteen months later." I looked around the table slowly, meeting everyone's eyes one by one. "I am not suggesting we avoid growth. I am suggesting we avoid repeating mistakes when we already have documented consequences of those actions."

Prentiss, seated three chairs down from Cassian, was already pulling up page sixty-seven on his tablet. Two other board members leaned together murmuring. I kept my face composed and my hands still on the table in front of me, even though my heart was hammering loud enough that I was half-convinced the room could hear it.

"The acquisition will be tabled pending further due diligence," Prentiss said quietly. He was the oldest amongst everyone in the boardroom, and people usually leaned to his wisdom.

I felt my shoulders sag in relief. It felt like I won.

The meeting wrapped up soon after as people gathered thoer laptops, leather portfolios and began falling in step with each other to discuss more about today's board meeting. I could still feel his eyes on my back, and I knew he hadn't stood up from where he sat. I could feel the goosebumps rising on my skin, but it wasn't only that. It was the way I felt butterflies in my tummy at the thought that he was staring... looking at me.

Someone cleared their throat gently beside me, and I looked up from sliding my notes into my folder. It was James Whitefield, who silently helped me finish packing my documents before falling in step beside me as we headed out.

He was a young handsome man in the acquisitions department, in his mid-thirties, and he had the kind of easy confidence that came from competence rather than ego. He had nodded along with my arguments during the meeting in a way that had been quietly encouraging.

"That was impressive," he said, holding the conference room door open for me to go through. "The 2019 write-down reference. I've been sitting in meetings where that acquisition was treated like classified information."

"It's in the annual report." I smiled, adjusting my folder under my arm. "People just don't read annual reports."

He let out a low laugh and shook his head with agreement, and something warm moved in my chest. It was true that I was always reserved in the office, but this feeling... Like I was already having an office friend. It felt like something I wanted. I could learn a whole lot from them.

"Listen, a group of us usually grab lunch at the Italian place on the fifty-third after these morning meetings. You should come."

"I'd like that," I said, and I meant it. Six weeks of eating lunch at my desk or in the conference room with Cassian's presence radiating through the glass wall was exactly as exhausting as it sounded. "What time?"

"Twelve-thirty? I'll come by your office."

"Perfect."

We parted ways at the elevator bank, and I was already mentally calculating whether I had time to return two calls before twelve-thirty when the air beside me changed. That was the only way I could describe it... a shift in pressure, like a weather front moving in.

"You'll be having lunch in the office today." Cassian's voice came from just behind my left shoulder, low enough that no other person except me, in the corridor, could hear what he just said.

I turned slowly. He was closer than I expected, close enough that I almost jumped away from him in shock. His expression still hadn't changed from the board meeting, but something was slightly different now. It was the way his mouth was set tight, and I knew it had nothing to do with the board meeting.

"I have lunch plans," I took a deep breath before replying.

"Cancel them."

I raised a brow in confusion. "That's not a reasonable request."

"It's not a request." He held out a manila folder, thick enough to make my stomach drop slightly. "These are the Langford contracts. Physical copies that need to be reviewed, annotated, converted to soft copy, and sent to my email before close of business." His eyes met mine and held there, steady and unreadable. "All of them."

I looked at the folder and said pointedly. "That, is a very large folder."

"It is," he agreed, without a trace of apology.

I took it from his hands. Our fingers didn't touch. I made sure of it. "I'll have them to you before six."

"Before the day runs out, Aria. That means before midnight if necessary. Prove to me that you're indeed capable."

I smiled at him the way I smiled at people who were testing me. "Then I suppose you'll have them before midnight."

I walked back to my office, the folder tucked under my arm, and I did not look back. I didn't need to. I could feel his gaze on my back all the way down the corridor, hot and steady, like a hand pressed between my shoulder blades. I sat at my desk, opened the folder, and looked at the contents. It was going to be a very long day.

I texted James: "Can we push lunch to dinner instead? Something came up."

His response came back in minutes: "Absolutely. I'll find somewhere worth the wait."

I set my phone face-down on the desk, took a long breath, and got to work.