For a moment I think he’s going to lean in and kiss me. Thankfully, the MC calls his name, and he pushes back his chair, making his way through the crowd to the podium.

I get my phone ready and adjust my chair, which is situated in such a way that I don’t even have to get up to be able to record him.

Lincoln takes the podium and holds up his cue cards. “I feel like it’s seventh grade again and I’m giving a speech in front of the whole school. Don’t worry, though. I’m not going to picture you all naked.” He scans the crowd, eyes landing on me for a split second. “I’ll picture you all in tighty-whities instead.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the room.

He clears his throat, and the crowd falls silent. Then he shows everyone who he really is, including me. He’s eloquent, charismatic, and commanding. He’s expressive and giving and emotive. He pauses a couple of times to collect himself when he speaks about the legacy his father left behind, about how difficult it is to fill his shoes. No one but me understands the real reason he struggles through this part. It doesn’t matter that they misread his emotional response; it gives them what they need, a leader they can relate to and empathize with.

I record his speech, and as soon as he steps away from the podium, the entire room erupts in applause. I stand and clap along with everyone else, wearing a proud, silly grin. He stops to shake a few hands on the way back to his seat, to me, which is where his gaze is fixed. When he reaches me, I remember where we are and that Gwendolyn is watching. So I turn my head away when he pulls me in for an impulsive hug. I pat him on that back, hoping it looks friendlier than it does intimate.

“I told you you’d be amazing.” I drop back into my chair as soon as he lets me go.

“I did all right?” Lincoln takes his seat beside me, angling his chair in such a way that his foot brushes my calf.

“Better than all right. You were a natural up there.”

I can feel his eyes on me, and Gwendolyn’s vulture-like stare drifts our way every so often—either that or I’m being paranoid.

I consider how incredibly eloquent Lincoln is, how despite not having been part of the family business, he’s stepped in with grace. If he wanted to, he could easily take over permanently and make Moorehead into something amazing. But he’s said on more than one occasion that he can’t wait to get out of the city. My contract is up when he goes, so I’m not sure this warm feeling in my chest is a good thing. I worry I’m setting myself up for heartbreak.

Once speeches are over, I excuse myself to the bathroom while Lincoln is pulled into a discussion with some influential people. Now that the hardest part is over, I can breathe easier. I stop at the bar to grab a scotch for Lincoln and a glass of wine for myself. I’m on my way back into the hall when Gwendolyn’s cold hand wraps around my elbow.

“A word, please, Wren,” she says icily.

“Of course, what can I do for you?”

She pulls me away from the guests to a private corner. “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

I look down at the drinks in my hand. “Now that the speeches are over, I felt it reasonable for Lincoln to have a drink. I thought he was exceptional.”

Her grip on my arm tightens. “Don’t play coy with me, Wren. You’re far too intelligent for that. I’m paying you to make sure Lincoln looks good in the eyes of the media and that he presents a good face for the company.”

I roll my shoulders back, a hot feeling creeping up my spine. “And that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“Lincoln was supposed to bring a date, and you couldn’t even ensure that happened. And now Armstrong has commanded the attention of the woman I invited for him.”

“I had no idea Jordan was supposed to be Lincoln’s date. I tried to convince him it was in his best interests, but—”

“Are you sure about that, Wren? I see the way you look at my son and how he’s been looking at you.”

“I don’t know—”

“Don’t think for a moment I don’t see what you’re doing here,” she whispers angrily.

The accusation in her tone gets my back up. “I’m sorry. What exactly am I doing?”

“You know what this company could be worth with the right management. You’re trying to get your claws into my son so you can cash in on what’s his. I can understand the allure. He’s quite a catch, but you’re rising above your station, Wren. Lincoln is too many rungs above you on the ladder for it to be a good match. You need to be careful about allowing yourself to get too distracted. I wouldn’t want you to lose sight of your goals.”