I stepped closer, fingertips brushing lightly at his collar, smoothing nothing. “It means for one night, you’re not the one pulling strings. You’re not watching markets, you’re not disciplining grown executives, and you’re not… handling me and my bullshit.” My voice dropped on the last words. “You’re just here. With me. Let me hold some of the weight.”
He studied me like I was a deal on the table. “I don’t do… surrender.”
“I know,” I said softly. “That’s why I’m asking nicely.”
The second drink faded into a third, then a fourth, each refill disguised as casual attention. He loosened with each swallow — just a fraction at a time. Shoulders unwound. The edge in his gaze softened. The words that usually moved like knives came out closer to velvet.
“You sound like you’ve thought about this
