Chapter 3 Called Upstairs

Nathan POV

"The vote is in one week," Lucas says as he closes the door behind him. He is my personal assistant and one of the few people I actually trust. "The board isn't going to move it again."

"I'm aware."

I don't look away from the window. The city looks calm, as if this company isn't days away from a leadership vote that could hand control to my cousin.

Damon has been working toward this for months. He is family, but he has never wanted to wait his turn. Quiet dinners with board members. Careful comments about needing steadier hands at the top. He never says he wants my father's company. He doesn't have to. Everyone already understands.

If the vote goes his way, I lose more than a title. I will lose the company my father spent thirty years building.

I have looked at every option, and I keep landing in the same place. The board has made its position clear. They want a man who looks stable. More than one of them has said it outright. A wife would help. A wife can do that faster than any report I can put in front of them.

The problem is simple. I have never been in a serious relationship. I don't date. I don't make promises I can't keep. Finding a real partner in seven days is impossible. An arrangement is the only option that works on this timeline.

I need someone who won't ask for more than the arrangement offers. Someone who can survive the scrutiny. Someone who already knows how to stay standing when everything falls apart.

I think of Evelyn Cole.

Eight months ago, she told me I was wrong about the Whitmore account. Most people agree with me because it is easier. She didn't. She made her case calmly, and I backed down. I still remember the look on the faces around that table.

I also think of yesterday. A wedding that ended before it started. A woman walking back down the aisle alone, her spine straight.

This morning should have kept her home. I did not expect her to come in. The fact that she did is the reason I am calling her now. If she can face this building after being left in front of a full church, she can handle what I am about to ask.

"Send for Evelyn Cole," I say.

Lucas hesitates. "The one from yesterday? Nathan, if this is about optics, there are easier candidates."

"I don't want it to be easy."

I turn from the window.

"I want someone who can survive being looked at. She already showed me she can."

He nods and steps out to make the call. I straighten my jacket and tell myself this is only business.

Evelyn POV

I stand up from my desk and smooth my blazer. I have been asked to go to Mr. Harper's office, and the executive floor does not wait for people who need more time.

I walk toward the elevators with my chin level. The doors open, and two women from the accounting department step in just after me. They stop talking the second they see me, then start again in voices they think are low enough.

"Can you believe she came in today?"

"After a failed wedding like that? Bold."

"Or desperate."

I keep my eyes on the numbers above the door. I do not turn. I do not answer. If I open my mouth, I am not sure what will come out, and I refuse to give them that.

The elevator rises in silence after that. The summons still makes no sense. I have spoken to Nathan Harper twice in two years. Once in an elevator like this one, where we only exchanged a brief good morning. Once in a meeting, when I pushed back on the Whitmore account and he actually listened. He looked surprised more than angry. Then he said I made a fair point.

That is the most personal exchange we have ever had. None of it explains why the CEO of Harper Industries wants me in his office this morning.

The elevator stops on the executive floor. The two women step aside without looking at me again. I walk out and keep my shoulders straight. The hallway is quieter here, with thicker carpet and softer lighting. His assistant is already waiting near the dark wood doors. He waves me through without a word.

Nathan is standing by the window when I walk in, his hands in his pockets, looking out over the city like it belongs to him. Maybe it does.

"Ms. Cole." He turns. His expression gives away nothing. "Thank you for coming up."

"Wasn't really an option, was it?"

The words come out sharper than I mean them to. I don't take them back.

Something flickers behind his eyes. Not anger. Almost respect.

"No. I suppose it wasn't."

He gestures to the chair across from his desk. I sit, mostly because standing suddenly feels like giving him too much control over the room.

"I heard about yesterday," he says.

My spine goes rigid. "If this is about..."

"It's not pity, Ms. Cole. I don't do pity." He sits across from me and folds his hands on the desk. "It's an opportunity. For both of us."

"An opportunity."

I repeat the word. It does not make more sense the second time.