Page 82 of The Plus One Contract

Richard hums, still watching her. “What is it you do, Miss Blake?”

“Marketing,” she replies easily. “I work on campaigns for corporate brands.”

Richard nods. “Ambitious.”

“I like to think so.”

Eleanor’s lips curve. “I admire a woman who knows her worth.”

She turns to Richard, and just like that, I watch him relax. It’s a subtle sign that we’re off to a good start. This is exactly the game we’re here to play.

∞∞∞

The night moves quickly. Business talk flows with ease. Julian and I circle around Richard’s hesitations like we’ve rehearsed a hundred times.

Sienna sits in the chair beside mine, looking every bit like she belongs here. She listens intently, lips slightly parted in concentration, body angled toward the conversation as though she’s genuinely interested in the intricacies of expansions and profit margins. Part of me almost believes she is.

What really catches me off guard is that I’m not the only one noticing her. Across the table, Eleanor Crane watches Sienna with quiet, careful interest. She’s listening, taking her in. Somehow, that unsettles me because I know a single misstep might break the illusion we’re trying to maintain.

Richard finally leans back, swirling the last of his drink. “Your proposal is solid,” he says. “But there’s a problem.”

Here it is. The catch.

“Go on,” I say.

“You’re pitching this expansion like it’s bulletproof. And financially? Maybe it is. But the market is shifting, Calloway. You’re focused on logistics and revenue, but what about branding? Strategy?”

I keep my face impassive.This is the game.Julian leans forward, ready to counter.

But, out of nowhere, Sienna speaks: “You need a narrative.”

Her voice cuts through the conversation like a blade. The entire table falls silent, eyes locked on her. She doesn’t even flinch.

“Your expansion is about more than just numbers,” she continues, voice steady. “You need to give people a reason to care. Your consumers need to see the growth and think, ‘This is a company that understands me, that I can trust.’”

Richard tilts his head, intrigued. “Go on.”

She does. Launching into a strategy so seamless, so effortlessly brilliant, that it takes me a moment to realize I’m barely listening because I’m too busy watching her. The way her lips move, the passion in her eyes, the unwavering confidence.

This is where Sienna comes alive. Where I see the woman who refused to wilt under my mother’s roof, who told meI’m not judging you.She’s not playing a part. She’s just…herself. Owning her space, commanding the room.

“And that’s why,” she finishes, “people trust Nathan and Julian’s projects when others fail. They don’t just buy buildings. They invest in the people. Look at their work in Brooklyn two years ago.” She glances at me, eyes sparkling. “They could have torn down entire blocks and forced local businesses out. Instead, they partnered with them, built them up. Now it’s one of the most thriving areas in the city.”

She stops, cheeks flushed, realizing the entire table is staring at her. Richard is listening, genuinely listening. Julian casts a single look before composing himself. Eleanor’s eyes gleam with approval.

I’m caught between wanting to kiss her senseless and the realization that she knows about Brooklyn because she's done her research. She dug into my past. She said she Googled me, and apparently, she did her homework well.

She blinks, eyes wide as if snapping out of a trance. “I am so sorry,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. She thinks she’s overstepped, tried to overshadow me in front of the potential investor, but she has no idea what she’s just done.

“Christ, where have you come from?” I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them. Sienna’s gaze snaps to mine. Her expression is a mix of confusion and heat.

Richard clears his throat, drawing us back to the moment. “Well,” he muses, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Sienna stiffens, panic flickering across her face. My immediate instinct is to reassure her.You did well. You were perfect.But she looks like she wants to vanish.

Not happening.

I squeeze her thigh under the table, letting my touch ground her. “I was,” I say, turning to the Cranes. “She’s brilliant.”

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