-POV Derby
The next morning the entire 28th floor conference room was packed.
It was the big integration briefing — all department leads, senior analysts, and two representatives from the Vasquez side. The long table was full. Chairs lined the walls. Someone had even brought in extra seats. The air smelled like coffee, expensive cologne, and the faint buzz of too many important people in one room.
I sat near the back, notebook open, pen in hand, trying to look like I was here for work.
Jordan sat at the head of the table.
He looked every inch the future CEO — dark suit perfectly tailored, crisp white shirt, calm expression that gave nothing away. The same man who had cleaned me up with tissues yesterday afternoon and kissed my forehead like I was something precious.
Tamara wasn’t her
