89

Evening had entered like black velvet over the city when Liana Coleman knocked twice on the metal door in the back of Cole Technologies' downtown research arm. The stifling buzz of neon lights and nighttime traffic receded the instant she ducked indoors, her place taken by Cole Technologies' silent, enclosed conference room. At a long obsidian table sat Alexander Cole, his grey eyes reflecting the low, ambient light of a single pendant lamp. Behind him, the city skyline glittered through floor-to-ceiling windows—a reminder of everything at stake.

Liana's own heartbeat thudded in her ears as she closed the door. "We must decide," Alex began, voice steady but honed by fatigue. "Both of our respective attorneys tell us that this case can ruin the two of us if it goes to trial."

She let her tablet fall to the floor and gazed at him, determination tempered with fatigue. "Then we have only two choices: ally—become both devoured.".

He inched forward, fingers interlaced. "I've recruited ColeTech's top litigation firm. They desire a lead partner—idea?" His voice was formal, but the tension of his shoulders showed how much he wanted this.

Liana pecked at the tablet. "Reynolds & Pierce have made the initial cut at our motion. But they require corporate malpractice expertise. I can bring Sterling & Hayes aboard to handle the fraud charges. They're cutthroat—precisely what we need."

Alex nodded in agreement. "I'll see to paying their retainer f*e. In return, we share investor outreach efforts. I've got a handful of family offices already inclined to emergency funding." He slid a dossier down the table. "Here are some names. Help me craft the pitch.".

Liana opened the folder, scanning hopeful leads—global effect funds, technology-sector angels, and even a couple of private equity shops with a reputation for crisis capital. "These three are making us an instant board seat in exchange for $10 million each," she told him. "We can put that to plug liquidity and finance the countersuit."

He took a breath, the urgency ebbing as they lapsed into easy harmony—two planners together by disaster. As Liana read out each investor's schedules, Alex provided background: risk appetite, boardroom machinations, reputation issues. They shared information, the table littered with colored charts and legal briefs.

Later, an hour later, Alex got up and removed a framed press release from a credenza. He opened the seal and drew out the page: a draft of a media statement of commitment to transparency, an independent audit, and unyielding commitment to donor trust. "We put this out as soon as the motion is made," he said to her. "We set the terms."

Liana read the nicely written paragraphs. She tapped a line. "Add language about third-party oversight—so it doesn't sound like handpicked auditors." She looked up. "That will send the message of real accountability."

Alex nodded, respect in his eyes. "Good eye." He underlined the rewritten clause in red ink and pushed the paper back. "Anything else?"

Liana rubbed her temples. "Yes," she whispered. "We need to prepare for worst-case blowback—media outcry, potential walkouts by major donors. We need a quick-response team on social media and a collaboration with at least one nonprofit influencer." She studied him, measuring. "Can ColeTech's comms pull that off?"

He met her gaze unblinkingly. "They'll do it—and follow your lead. You're the best person we know who knows how to write the tone we need to use.".

She sipped his deference in, her ribcage tightening. They were even then—no CEO and daughter of the targeted group, but two people brought together by a common purpose. The initial sparks of rebellion had given way to easy collaboration.

Alex checked his watch. "It's past midnight," he whispered. "Let's call it a night and meet again at dawn."

Liana gathered up her papers, but as she stood, her raw nerves and limitless tension for tactics and loyalty made her falter. The lights of the city outside through the windows looked wistfully beautiful—and wistfully far away from the war they were building together.

Alex banged on the table, his face now anxious. "Liana—are you all right?"

She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes against the torrent of emotion. "This…all of this," she began, her voice shaking, "is like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff." She took them open again, meeting his. "I'm scared—scared that we'll fail, scared I'll disappoint my family, scared I'm losing myself in fights I didn't want.".

Alex rose and went to her side. The dim light in the room carved his profile in gentle relief. He placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying her. "You haven't lost yourself," he whispered. "You've just had to be very brave at a very young age." His thumb rubbed the back of her hand. "And I promise, I've got your back.".

Liana gasped at the warmth of his fingers close to her skin. The scent of his aftershave—oakmoss and citrus—mixed with the hint of the city breeze through an open window half open. She looked up, catching something vulnerable in his eyes she'd never before observed.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The space between them narrowed until their breathing mingled in the quiet. Liana's mouth opened, uncertainty and yearning flitting across her face. Alex's hand trembled as he pulled his hand from her shoulder up to rest against her cheek, his thumb grazing against the rim of her mouth.

Then, almost imperceptibly, he leaned in. The soft sweep of his ear against hers in a gentle kiss. A confirmation not of equal fight, but of something more, desperately gentle. Liana's breath trembled in her throat. She opened her lips, receiving the kiss, her head tilted as their mouths at last closed together in a controlled, measured grasp. The world narrowed to the warmth of his lips, the beating of his heart against her palm, the shiver that ran down her spine.

But duty—and sense—stirred deep in her head. With a stifled gasp, she pushed away, laying a trembling hand upon his chest. "We—can't," she whispered, eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Not now."

Alex’s jaw clenched, reluctance and desire shadowed in his eyes. He nodded slowly, as though mourning the moment’s potential. He stepped back, returning her wall of professionalism. “You’re right,” he said, voice husky. “We have a job to do.”

She brushed a stray curl behind her ear, regaining composure. “Tomorrow,” she said quietly, “we fight.” Her words sounded brittle, but firm.

He yanked out his blazer and hooked it over his arm. "Tomorrow," he said again.

They walked to the door together, the thinnest of threads of something unspoken drawn between them. At the door, Alex halted, hand on the doorknob. "Liana," he said softly, "thanks—for tonight. Everything."

She met his eyes, pulse still racing. "Thanks," she said. "For believing."

He smiled a small, bitter smile, and then opened the door. The fluorescent light of the corridor was blinding after the penthouse radiance. Liana watched him vanish into the shadows of the hallway before she stepped out into the row of elevators.