Back at TMP Inc., the boardroom glowed with polished wood and the steady hum of a projector.
Ava stood poised, running through the figures she had carefully prepared, her voice steady and clear.
But every so often, Tristan would interject, slipping into her rhythm like he owned it but let her present it.
He didn’t contradict her outright. Instead, he leaned in at just the right moment, added a suggestion that made it sound like he was smoothing the edges she had already carved. The clients nodded, impressed, their eyes flicking between them.
By the time the meeting wrapped, Ava’s jaw ached from clenching her teeth.
The moment the doors closed behind them, she spun on him.
“Don’t you ever undermine me like that again.”
Tristan tilted his head, calm as ever, like he’d been waiting f
