At the airport, Ethan waited near the arrivals exit.
Sloane stood apart from him.
Victoria walked toward the taxi line.
He caught up.
“We need to talk.”
“Yes. In writing for now.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
She stopped where other travelers moved around them.
“Did you remove my firm’s name from the presentation?”
His jaw tightened.
“It was a preliminary structure.”
“Did you tell Malcolm I wasn’t coming?”
“You were overwhelmed.”
“I was finishing the work.”
Ethan lowered his voice.
“You’re very good at design. You’re less good at understanding how these deals happen.”
Victoria looked at him.
She had heard versions of that sentence before.
After she questioned a fee.
After she declined a contact he wanted her to meet.
After she asked why he spoke over her at dinners.
Until now, she had mistaken his confidence for knowledge.
“You do not have permission to represent my practice.”
“This could have benefited both of us.”
“You brought your girlfriend into my client meeting.”
He glanced toward Sloane.
She did not approach.
Victoria stepped away.
Ethan reached for the handle of her suitcase.
She held it firmly.
“Let go.”
He did.
She took a taxi to a modest hotel her office assistant had found.
The room was smaller than the one she had expected to share with Ethan.
There was a desk beneath the window, a kettle, and enough space to hang her ivory suit.
She locked the door.
Then she sat on the edge of the bed and cried until her face hurt.
Afterward, she washed, called Priya, and opened her laptop.
Pain had made the day slower.
It had not made the work stop belonging to her.
