The Boardroom Game

Chapter 9: The Boardroom Game

The next morning, the city was already awake, its streets alive with movement and noise, while I felt trapped in a quiet, growing storm. Today, Adrian had invited me to the boardroom—not as a guest, but as his wife.

I dressed carefully, choosing a navy pencil skirt and cream blouse, my hair pulled back neatly. Claire had helped me rehearse my introductions, reminding me to smile, nod, and exude confidence.

Confidence. A word I wasn’t sure I could summon.

The elevator ride up was silent except for the soft hum of its mechanics. Adrian stood beside me, his presence steady, controlled, commanding. Every inch of him screamed authority.

“You’ll need to observe,” he said quietly. “Speak only if spoken to. Don’t interrupt. Appear engaged, not invasive.”

I nodded, though my heart thumped wildly.

When the boardroom doors opened, I froze. The room was filled with men and women dressed impeccably, their gazes sharp and assessing. I had expected judgment, but the level of scrutiny here was almost unbearable.

Adrian led me to the front of the room, introducing me as his wife with the same poise he used in every high-stakes meeting.

“This is my wife, Amara,” he said.

Eyes turned toward me, whispers barely masked, and I forced myself to stand tall. I nodded politely, smiling as instructed, feeling more like a performer than a person.

The meeting began, and Adrian spoke with precision, discussing quarterly results, mergers, and projections. I stayed silent, careful to follow his lead. But halfway through, a board member, Mr. Harlan, leaned forward, a sly smile on his face.

“So, Amara,” he said, tone sharp and probing, “how do you feel about your new role? You’ll be more than a wife soon, I assume.”

I blinked, startled by the question. Adrian’s gaze shifted to me, sharp and warning. My palms began to sweat.

“I… I’m here to support Mr. Blackwood,” I said cautiously. “In any way needed.”

Mr. Harlan raised an eyebrow. “I see. And does that support extend to business decisions? Or just appearances?”

Adrian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t speak. All eyes were on me now. I felt like I was being tested, evaluated, judged.

“I… I’m learning,” I said, my voice firmer than I expected. “I’ll contribute when I’m able, but my primary role is to support Mr. Blackwood.”

A silence followed. Then Mr. Harlan smirked, clearly unimpressed. “We’ll see.”

The rest of the meeting was a blur. Adrian spoke, interjected when necessary, and kept control, but the tension in the room was palpable. I could feel it pressing against me, suffocating and impossible to ignore.

After the meeting, Adrian walked me to the elevator in silence.

“You handled that well,” he said quietly once the doors closed.

I exhaled, relief flooding through me. “Thank you.”

He studied me for a long moment. “This world isn’t forgiving, Amara. People like Mr. Harlan will test you, test us. You need to be prepared.”

“I will,” I said, though the quiver in my voice betrayed me.

Adrian’s hand brushed mine briefly—a light, almost accidental touch. But it was enough to make my chest tighten.

The elevator doors opened, and we stepped into the penthouse lobby. He didn’t speak again until we reached the apartment.

“You’re improving,” he said. “Faster than I expected. That’s dangerous—for both of us.”

I frowned. “Dangerous? How?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the city lights below, silent. Then he added, softly, almost a whisper:

“Because the closer you get, the harder it becomes to keep walls intact. Mine, and yours.”

I felt my pulse quicken. His words hit me deeper than any boardroom challenge ever could.

Later that night, lying in bed, I replayed the entire day. The scrutiny, the pressure, the way Adrian had subtly protected me. And the way my heart had betrayed me at every turn.

The contract, I realized, was no longer just an arrangement. It was a battlefield.

And I wasn’t sure who would emerge unscathed—him, me, or our carefully constructed walls.