The quarterly executive briefing is always a beast.
Suits packed wall to wall. Coffee flowing like lifeblood. Projections, performance reports, profit margins—every detail under a microscope.
It's my first one as VP.
I walk in with my tablet, notes, and that calm smile I've practiced for years.
But today, I don't need to fake it.
Because I know what I'm doing.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf8qUvf2QU6
Because I earned this room.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSJEHfIZbwX
Because Ryan Santillan is sitting at the head of the table—and when I enter, he looks up.
And his face changes.
It's not the usual professional nod.17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjjaYzGK8Vm
It's something slower. Warmer.
He doesn't even realize he's doing it—how the corner of his mouth lifts just a little, how his eyes follow me for a second longer than necessary.
And the others notice.
Whispers don't start, but glances flicker.
Especially when I take the seat beside him, and he shifts slightly—not away, but closer, so I have room.
Especially when I pass him the report and he murmurs, "Perfect as always," like it's an inside joke.
Especially when, after I finish presenting our strategy update, he's the only one who claps first—before the room joins in.
After the meeting, Ricardo pulls Ryan aside. I linger by the window, just out of earshot.
But I can see Ricardo smirking. Eyebrow raised. Ryan shaking his head with that I-have-no-comment face he wears when caught off guard.
He glances at me once.
Then twice.
Then excuses himself and walks over.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
He clears his throat. "My father's enjoying his retirement a little too much."
I raise a brow. "Translation: he made a comment about us?"
"More like three."
I laugh. "And?"
He holds my gaze.
"I didn't deny anything."
My pulse spikes. "Should you have?"
He shrugs, too cool. "Do you want me to?"
I don't answer. I just hold his gaze back—calm, unbothered... but inside?
A thousand sparks ignite.
By the end of the day, Stacy texts me.
Stacy: Girl. You and the boss? That look across the table?? Spill.
Me: There's nothing to spill.
Stacy: That was not a "nothing" stare. That was a "he'd burn the building for you" stare. 👀🔥
I didn't reply.
Because she's not wrong.
And maybe for the first time, I'm not afraid of what that might mean.
17Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS96D3zSEOj
