Page 66 of Think Outside the Boss

“But only one,” I say. “We don’t want attendees getting rowdy.”

Toby rolls his eyes. “God, I can’t wait to get rowdy. There’s a bar next to the hotel… so you know where people will migrate when this is done.”

“And they’ll be paying for it tomorrow,” Luke says with a chuckle, looking over at me. “Think you’ll join?”

I shrug. “Probably, but I won’t be out late.”

“You’re so young,” Toby says. “So idealistic, so motivated. I remember those days.”

I grin at him. “Sorry, I forgot how cynical you’ve become.”

“I’m the worst.”

“Well, maybe not the worst,” Luke says. “Did you hear Conway up there on the panel?”

“I thought he was good,” I say.

“Oh, of course he was. He could convince anyone of anything when he deigns to try,” Toby says. “But you’re right. His view of the industry wasn’t necessarily… optimistic, not for us little guys.”

“I’m sure he’d call it realistic,” I say.

“That only makes it worse.”

“Well, he’s a venture capitalist,” Toby says. “He took over Exciteur to ensure it makes money, and when it does, he’ll leave. That’s their role.”

I take a sip of my glass and make my tone casual. “Think it’ll happen soon?”

Toby shakes his head. “I doubt it, but I can’t claim to know what goes on in management.”

“He’s not here, is he?” Luke asks. “I haven’t seen Upper Management since the last panel.”

“I don’t think so,” I reply, and I’ve been keeping an eye out. Tristan has been in meetings not open to the likes of us most of the day, but I’ve seen him striding down hallways and of course, working the microphone during the panel discussion. The difference couldn’t be clearer—me, in the back, taking notes. Him, being interviewed on the future of consultancy.

Luke drains the last of his wine, putting it down decisively on the table in front of us. He leans in close enough that I can smell his aftershave. “We should head to that bar soon.”

I make a noncommittal sound. Damn Toby for grinning beside me, for knowing about our date and for finding it hilarious.

My eyes search for a possible out. But they lock on a pair across the crowded room, a pair that blaze with intensity. The burn scalds.

Tristan’s here.

His gaze travels from me to Luke, standing closer than he should. There’s none of the professional civility of the last couple of days. Despite the distance, I can read his face perfectly. He’s burning, he’s angry, and he’s not as indifferent as he pretends.

My hand trembles as I put my wineglass down.

Tristan turns, parting the mingling crowd like the Red Sea as he strides toward the elevators.

I force my gaze away. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Luke and Toby. If they reply, I don’t catch it, hurrying through the packed crowd.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t resist.

He’s gone when I reach the elevators. Only one is still in motion, and as I watch, it stops at floor twenty-six.

The top floor.

Putting steel in my spine, I step into a free elevator and press the same button. The doors close behind me and I focus on breathing, in and out, in and out, my gaze on every floor that passes. Elevators have been harder than ever since the one in my building stalled. I’ve avoided them whenever I can, but here and now, there’s no way around it.

I can do this.

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