HER POV
For weeks I kept my distance. I told myself I’d weigh the risk, count the cost, and decide if my bones were worth the break. I held myself like a secret — quiet, tucked away, careful. Then came the last Friday of the first quarter and the company suite at the hotel, all glass and low lights and too-good champagne. Sometimes the calendar hands move faster than your brain.
The suite was a blur of lacquered surfaces and music that thudded in my chest. Senior partners laughed at one bar, associates clustered by the windows, and the open bottle of something sparkling disappeared faster than the elevator service. I started the night with a single glass, sensible, but conversation flowed and one glass became two, and then the office dissolved into friendly heat and the rules that usuall
