Page 37 of The Founder's Power

The air feels heavier, like we’re both waiting for a match to strike.

I set my phone face-down and lean forward. “You’ve barely looked at me all night.”

Isabelle crosses her arms. “You’ve barely been present all week.”

I inhale sharply. “I’m doing everything I can to keep things from falling apart, Isabelle. I told you what was happening with Veridian Holdings. I’m still here.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Her voice isn’t loud, but it’s cutting and precise. “I’m talking about us and how I feel like I’m back to dating a man who only sees me when I’m convenient.”

“That’s not fair,” I protest. “I’m not hiding away in my office. I’m making an effort?—”

“No?” She laughs, short and sharp. “An effort? When’s the last time you asked about my art? My students? The nonprofit? You’re not even pretending to care anymore, Damian.”

I stand and start to pace. “Don’t turn this into me not caring. You know that’s not true.”

She rises too, but she’s not backing down. “Then show it! Because all I see is you falling back into every habit that tore us apart the first time.”

My jaw tightens. “So now I’m the villain again.”

“You’re the man who’s halfway out the door every time I let my guard down.”

“That’s not what’s happening.”

“Isn’t it?” Her eyes flash. “You think I don’t notice how you check your phone every time I talk about something that isn’t a threat or a deal? How you nod like you’re listening but you’re not actually with me?”

I run a hand through my hair. “I’m trying to juggle everything, and I’m trying to save something, Isabelle. My company—my life’s work—is under attack.”

“And what am I, then?” Her voice breaks. “Collateral damage?”

That stops me cold. It almost felt better for her to yell at me, but she’s stopped, and now, she’s unraveling.

I step toward her. “That’s not what you are.”

“Then why do I feel like it, Damian? Why does it feel like I only get scraps of you? Why does it feel like I have to compete with the rest of your world just to be seen?”

“I never asked you to compete.”

“No,” she says. “You didn’t have to because you don’t make room for anyone else.”

I exhale hard, fists clenched at my sides. “You have no idea how hard I’m trying to balance all of this.”

“And you have no idea how exhausting it is to beg someone to choose you.”

The room falls quiet outside of our heavy breathing, which is not because of a certain bedroom activity.

Both of us stare at each other across this space that suddenly feelsimpossibleto cross.

Then she whispers, “I don’t want to be another sacrifice on your altar to control, Damian.”

Something inside me fractures. I can’t deny that she has a point, but the thing is, I don’t know how to fix it.

“Isabelle, there’s no way I will ever sacrifice you.”

“Your actions have always spoken louder than words, and maybe I’m being selfish. Maybe I should be more understanding. I know how important your business is to you.” She hangs her head. “I just want to be important to you too.”

“You are!”

“I don’t feel like I am.” She glances toward her door. “I think you should go.”

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