Chapter 103
Chapter 103:
Closing the scattered drafts, Austin rose from his chair and gestured toward the hallway. “Come on. Time to call it a night. You’ve got a speech in the morning, and if you stay up, you’ll be dragging those dark circles around with you p>
“I’ll be fine.” Brinley stood and stretched languidly, arms lifting over her head, her spine arching in an almost graceful display. “A face mask will fix everything. I’ll look flawless by morning p>
Austin studied her, his mouth curving into a faintly amused smile, as though he wanted to tease her but held back.
Without thinking, his hand lifted. He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertip brushing the delicate curve of her lobe. The brief contact froze them both in place.
𝗧h𝗈𝘂𝗌𝖺ո𝗱𝘴 𝘰𝖿 𝗿е𝗮d𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝘰n
Color rushed to Brinley’s cheeks. She stepped back abruptly, her voice a touch too brisk. “I’m going to my room p>
Austin let his hand fall, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “All right. Goodnight p>
“Goodnight,” Brinley echoed, hurrying toward the door as though fleeing a shadow pressing too close.
After switching off the study lamp, Austin stepped into the hall, his stride unhurried. The soft glow of the nightlight traced the angles of his tall frame as he made his way down the corridor.
When he neared Brinley’s door, he slowed, pausing in the hush of the hallway.
Only after her light clicked off—assuring him she had gone to bed—did his shoulders ease. With that small reassurance, he finally turned toward his own room.
Austin lay awake, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, sleep nowhere in sight. Brinley’s effort to mask her nerves replayed in his mind like a stubborn film reel.
He reached for his phone and typed a quick message to Miguel. “Arrange top-tier security for tomorrow’s venue, and have a fresh bouquet of sunflowers ready p>
Miguel’s confirmation came almost instantly. “Understood p>
Setting the phone aside, Austin let his gaze drift upward, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.
The next day, the atmosphere at the venue was suffocating with tension.
Brinley stood offstage, her posture rigid as Colin presented his proposal. Her face gave nothing away—a blank mask against the charged air.
Colin appeared in a tailored charcoal suit, his tie knotted with meticulous precision. The softness that once lingered in his eyes had vanished, replaced by blade-like sharpness. Every word he delivered carried a crisp, commanding edge.
As he outlined his vision for the mall’s future, the judges leaned forward, nodding in steady rhythm to his argument.
“Our concept integrates racing with gaming, a dual theme designed to draw in massive crowds.” Colin’s gaze swept deliberately across the panel before locking on Brinley, a glint of unwavering resolve in his eyes. “Business thrives on profit, not on sentiment p>
The remark struck Brinley like a knife to the chest. She understood the hidden target immediately.
Her proposal still carried the raw, unpolished passion she had always held for racing.