Rain traced soft patterns against the towering glass windows of Whitmore Industries while Emma adjusted the sleeve of her blazer for what was probably the fifth time since entering the boardroom.
Not because she was nervous about the meeting.
That part, she could handle.
The problem sat beside her in a charcoal suit with rolled-back cuffs and a silver watch that Emma had spent an unreasonable amount of time staring at during the car ride over.
Which was deeply unprofessional.
Especially considering Rowan Blackwood had kissed every coherent thought out of her the night before and somehow still looked perfectly composed this morning.
Emma opened the acquisition file in front of her with determined focus.
Work.
She needed to focus on work.
Across the polished black conference table,
