Gabriel’s POV I checked the time again. Ten minutes late. Clairessa was never late. In all the time I’d worked with her, she’d never kept me waiting—at least not without a damn good reason. Once, maybe twice, she’d cut it close, but only because I’d sent her a meeting brief late. She never made excuses. She never let things slip. I kept my expression neutral, but inside, my thoughts were already spiraling. If she wasn’t here yet, something was wrong—and I had a damn good idea what. This had Adrian written all over it. He’d screwed something up. Again. I looked across the boardroom table at Randolph—CEO of Randolph Corporation. He sat stiff in a tailored suit, lips pressed into a line of disapproval. The impatience practically rolled off him. His board members surrounded him like statues—silent, unsmiling, their expressions heavily judgmental. Randolph tapped his fingers in an edgy rhythm against the glossy oak surface, then narrowed his eyes, locking onto me with an impatient
Clairessa’s POV“Five minutes, Clairessa. Five freaking minutes—that’s how late we are for the meeting,” Nicole snapped from the doorway. “And your star boy is still MIA. Are you kidding me?”I didn’t look up. My fingers trembled as I hit redial—again. For what felt like the hundredth time.Nicole scoffed behind me. “This is a joke, right? I knew this was a fluke from the beginning. I told you—Adrian wasn’t cut out for this. And you vouched for him. You swore he could pull it off. Wow.”His phone rang once—then straight to voicemail.Again.The sound of that robotic voice telling me to leave a message only made my heart pound harder, like it was trying to outrun the panic rising in my chest.I hung up and dialed again. Still nothing.I hadn’t seen him since our last conversation—since I told him there was no chance of us getting back together. He never returned to the house, never answered a single call or text, leaving me with no explanation for his whereabouts.How could he just dis
Clairessa’s POV We started down the sidewalk. The streets were quiet. A few cars passed, but nothing constant. Even the city seemed to be moving in slow motion. And so were we. Our pace was slower than I liked. It felt too casual—like a couple out for a lazy afternoon stroll. But that wasn’t what this was. This wasn’t that. Suddenly, he turned to me. “Clairessa.” I glanced over, guarded. “What?” “There’s something I need to ask you.” I slowed my steps, sensing the shift. “Okay. Go ahead.” His voice dropped slightly. “Have you forgiven me? I mean—truly, completely forgiven me? Let go of the past?” My feet stopped before I even realized it. So did everything else. I didn’t answer right away. I stared ahead, letting the question hang between us, giving myself space to search my heart—so I could be honest. Not just with him, but with myself. The truth was, the years with Adrian—the relationship, the hurt, that night—hadn’t really been on my mind. Not since I fell in love wit
Clairessa’s POV Adrian ran a hand through his hair, clearly at his limit. “I can’t do this. Not with her condescending tone, not with this pressure. I can’t keep running the same thing over and over again like a broken goddamn record. Fuck it. I’m out, Clairessa.” “Adrian—” “You’re either coming with me, or you’re not.” My chest tightened. “Wait, okay—just calm down. How about we take five? Just a five-minute breather. We can work on another part later, okay?” “No,” he snapped, shaking his head. “You’re not hearing me. I’m done working on anything today. I need space. This—” he gestured wildly between all of us, “—is too much.” And with that, he stormed out of the room. “Adrian!” I called after him, taking a step forward, panic rising in my chest. He can’t leave—not now, not this close to the pitch. But just as I reached the door, Nicole moved, blocking my path. “Nicole,” I said, glaring at her. “Why are you standing in my way? Move.” Her eyes glinted with something dark as
Clairessa’s POV“Again.” I paced in front of my desk, back and forth. For now, it doubled as our makeshift pitch rehearsal space. “Start from the top—and this time, hold your ground during the close. That’s where your confidence always slips.”Adrian groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. He launched into the opening of his pitch for the fifth time that hour, fumbling his phrasing halfway through and glancing at me, clearly hoping for reassurance.“You’re still not projecting enough confidence.” My voice stayed gentle—so he’d understand it was a suggestion, not a criticism. “They want to believe in you. But that only happens if you believe it first.”“I’m trying,” he muttered, his eyes low, heavy with fatigue.We’d spent the entire weekend like this—little sleep, long days, and even longer nights.Me coaching. Him hanging on by a thread.We drilled everything—posture, tone, pacing, handling objections, anticipating questions. I cut him off mid-sentence, redirected his focus, refin
Gabriel’s POV "Tems, let her in." I spoke into the intercom, then cut the line. Seconds later, my office door creaked open—and there she was. Nicole strutted in like she was performing on a runway, hips swaying with exaggerated confidence. It was almost laughable. I half expected her knees to buckle under the weight of her own theatrics. She halted at the edge of my desk, leaning forward just enough to shove her cleavage into view. Her lips curled into that smug little smirk she always wore—like she thought she had leverage, like she believed she still mattered. “Mr. Storm,” she purred. “You sent for me. I was surprised… but pleasantly so. Especially after how our last little encounter ended.” Her smile stretched wider. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, eyes glittering with suggestion. “Then again, you know how useful I can be, sir. So I’m glad you’ve come around.” God, she was exhausting. The sound of her voice grated—like nails dragging against glass. She alway