CHAPTER SIX

NORA POV

Every step toward Conference Room Three feels heavier than the last.

My heels click against the polished floor, sounding far louder than they should. Each step feels too steady, too deliberate, like it’s announcing every mistake I’ve ever made.

The closed doors of Conference Room Three wait ahead of me, and every instinct tells me I’m walking into trouble. 

I don’t need to look beside me to know Jayden is there. I can hear his footsteps, and that’s already a problem.

People notice. Of course they do. The new employee walking beside the CEO’s cousin is exactly the kind of thing that attracts attention.

“You’re doing it again,” Jayden says.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiles.

“When you’re nervous, you stop looking at people.”

I tighten my grip on the folder.

Some habits never change.

Before I can respond, the conference room doors open.

Davis is already inside, waiting.

The room falls silent the moment we step in.

I don’t miss the way his gaze flicks briefly to Jayden, then to me before moving away again.

Not curious.

Not obvious.

Just observant.

Somehow, that feels worse.

I take a seat near the end of the table while Jayden sits across from me. Davis takes his place at the head of the table.

The meeting begins immediately.

No introductions.

No wasted words.

Just Orion.

For nearly forty minutes, I do my best to stay invisible.

Until I notice a mistake.

It’s a small one, but an expensive one.

My eyes return to the projection screen, then the financial timeline, and back again.

No.

That’s definitely wrong.

I hesitate before raising my hand.

The room turns toward me, and my pulse jumps.

“There’s a conflict in the rollout schedule.”

Silence settles over the room.

One executive frowns.

“Are you sure?”

A brief pause follows before another executive speaks.

“Those figures were reviewed yesterday.”

I point to the screen.

“The supplier timeline overlaps with the regional launch window.”

Another executive begins checking the figures. His expression changes almost immediately.

“She’s right.”

The atmosphere shifts.

People start reviewing documents, asking questions, and adjusting projections. A mistake nobody else noticed suddenly becomes the center of the discussion, and somehow, I’m the one who found it.

When I finally look up, Davis is already watching me.

Our eyes meet.

Neither of us looks away.

The silence lasts only a heartbeat, yet somehow it feels much longer.

He isn’t smiling.

He isn’t praising me.

He’s simply watching.

His expression gives nothing away, yet it feels more significant because of that. 

The meeting moves on, yet the atmosphere has changed.

I can feel it.

People who barely noticed me earlier are paying attention now.

Including Jayden.

“You always did hate letting people fail, huh?”

The words leave his mouth, and regret flashes across his face almost immediately.

“Sorry.”

He leans back in his chair.

“Inside joke.”

Nobody laughs.

I lower my eyes to the documents in front of me.

Across the table, Davis says nothing, but his gaze lingers on us a moment longer.

Not because of what Jayden said.

Because neither of us looked at the other when he said it.

A few minutes later, project files begin moving around the table.

One lands in front of Jayden.

He flips it open, then freezes.

Just for a second.

His eyes lock on something on the page.

One word catches my eye before he closes the file.

Brooklyn.

Something shifts across his face.

I recognize that look immediately.

The same look from earlier.

The one he had after checking his phone.

Then it’s gone.

So quickly that I almost convince myself I imagined it.

He closes the file without a word.

For some reason, that feels worse.

The rest of the meeting passes in a blur.

When it finally ends, relief washes over me.

Chairs scrape back as documents close around the room.

Everyone rises as conversations start again and the meeting breaks up.

I stand quickly, ready to leave before anyone can stop me.

Then—

“Ms. Edward.”

The words aren’t loud.

They don’t need to be.

The room obeys him anyway.

Conversations fade, and people glance toward us before quietly making their way out.

I turn slowly to find Davis Rowan looking directly at me.

Everyone else continues filing out until only three people remain.

Me. Davis. Jayden. 

Then Davis speaks.

“Jayden.”

His cousin pauses.

“Give us a moment.”

A flicker of surprise crosses Jayden’s face before he gives a small nod and leaves.

The door clicks shut behind him, and silence settles over the room.

I lower my eyes to the folder in my hands.

Davis doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, he studies me.

His gaze never wavers.

Calm.

Patient.

Waiting.

It feels less like an interrogation and more like he’s waiting for me to decide whether I trust him.

The thought sends a chill through me.

It’s the kind of look that makes me feel as if he’s seeing more than he should.

Without saying a word, he reaches for a file on the table and straightens one of the pages before picking up the brown folder.

My stomach drops the moment I recognize it.

My employment record.

The same file he questioned before.

The same file with three missing years.

“There’s something I’d like to understand,” Davis says.

His voice is calm.

Controlled.

That somehow makes it worse.

He slides the open file toward me, stopping at the missing years.

My grip loosens. 

My mouth goes dry.

I suddenly can’t remember how to breathe.

For the first time since joining Rowan & Co., I have the terrifying feeling that Davis Rowan is no longer looking at me as an employee.

He’s looking at me as a mystery.

Then he meets my eyes.

“Sit down.”

I do.

Davis walks to the conference room door, closes it himself, and returns to his chair.

His eyes never leave mine.

“Tell me about the three years that don’t exist.”

My heart forgets how to beat.