Lola exhaled sharply, setting her drink down with a controlled clink against the marble bar. “No.”
Nathan, who had been watching her carefully, barely reacted. If anything, his grip on his own glass remained steady, his expression unreadable. He was good at that—hiding what he was truly thinking behind a mask of practiced indifference. But Lola had spent enough time navigating boardrooms filled with sharks to recognize the slightest c***k in someone’s facade. And she saw it in his eyes, the brief flicker of something unreadable before he schooled his expression.
“No?” Nathan repeated, slow and deliberate.
Lola straightened in her seat, her spine stiff as steel. “I’m not running, Nathan. And I’m not walking away.”
He sighed, swirling the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid c
