Page 158 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy
And personally?
The ache is still there. The fear of abandonment hasn’t vanished entirely.
But Gideon was right.
Love isn’t about control or weakness.
It’s about choosing connection despite the risks.
And I choose Lucy.
Now I just need to show her, patiently, strategically, that she doesn’t have to choose between her ambition and me.
We can have both.
46
Lucy
Welcome to Hammond & Co. War Room edition.
My office, formerly Dad’s office, has been commandeered. There are whiteboards covered in frantic scribbles, half-eaten takeout containers littering the conference table, and legal briefs stacked high enough to build fortifications.
We’re in full battle mode against Mark Blackwell’s hostile takeover, running on caffeine, cortisol, and the sheer terror of impending corporate doom.
It’s like finals week, but instead of failing grades, you face bankruptcy and public humiliation.
Fun!
The pressure is immense, but strangely… invigorating? Since I fully stepped into this impossible CEO role, something has shifted. The fear is still there, oh god yes, lurking under the surface like a particularly nasty sea monster. But it’s accompanied by a weirdly fierce determination.
This ismycompany to save now. My mess to clean up.
My fight to win.
And surprisingly, we’re not entirely alone in the trenches. A few key investors, old associates of Dad’s who apparently despise Mark Blackwell even more than they doubt my abilities, have quietly signaled their support.
They don’t trust Mark’s motives, see the takeover for the vendetta it is, and are willing to hold the line, for now.
Small favors, but in this fight, I’ll take any ally I can get.
It’s late. My legal team and I are huddled around the conference table, analyzing Mark’s latest filing. Some obscure maneuver involving convertible debt that sounds terrifyingly effective.
My head pounds.
My eyes burn.
I miss Christopher.
The thought slams into me with unexpected force. I miss his sharp insights, his infuriating calm, his solid presence.
I missus.
I should have gone home with him to his penthouse after our talk at La Fenice. I could’ve sure used the stress relief of some good make-up sex.
But I didn’t feel ready.
Not then.
