Chapter 73
[ 981 words ]
Julian’s POV
The event was Zane’s idea. He had argued, with the particular persistence he reserved for things he was right about, that the Invisible Shield needed a launch. Not a press release. Not a technical briefing distributed to industry contacts. An actual event room, lighting, an open bar, journalists who wrote for publications that mattered, and both companies standing in the same space presenting a unified front.
I had agreed because the business case was sound. Not for any other reason. Definitely not because it meant an evening in the same room as Katia Kensington, which was information I was not sharing with Zane under any circumstances.
The venue was a private space in Midtown, all glass and clean lines and the kind of deliberate minimalism that costs more than decoration would have. WEG’s branding ran alongside IG’s on every surface. The guest list was controlled. The bar was quiet and expensive. Everything was exactly as it should be.
Katia arrived seven minutes before the presentation was due to start, which told me she had timed it early enough to enter when the room was full and early enough to compose herself before she had to perform. She was wearing black. Not the corporate armor of the boardroom—this was different. Something that moved when she walked and made the room adjust in that way rooms always did when she entered.
I was standing to the left of the presentation screen with a drink I hadn’t touched. I watched her cross the room, and I thought, She knows exactly what she’s doing. Every step. Every angle. She had calculated this entrance down to the minute—for maximum effect with minimum visible effort.
Zane appeared at my shoulder.
“Close your mouth, Julian,” he said quietly.
“I’m assessing the product p>
“You’re assessing the woman p>
“They’re the same thing this evening p>
Zane made a sound that I chose to ignore.
Katia took the podium, and the room settled immediately, not because anyone asked it to, but because she had a quality when she stood in front of people of making them feel that paying attention was their own idea. She ran through the Invisible Shield architecture with the fluency of someone who hadn’t just built it but understood it at a level that went past the technical brief, past the commercial positioning, all the way down to the reasoning behind every decision. She spoke for eighteen minutes. She took four questions. She answered all four in under two minutes combined, which meant the questions weren’t good enough for longer answers and she was too professional to say so.
When she stepped back from the podium, the room applauded and then immediately began talking amongst itself, which was the correct response—not polite applause for a performance but the electric buzz of people who had just heard something that changed how they were thinking about a problem.
I had built WEG from a company my father left me into something that commanded rooms. I knew what it looked like when someone did that. I knew how rare it was.
I touched my drink for the first time.
The networking hour opened. I moved through the room the way I always did—efficient, deliberate, three minutes per conversation, long enough to be present and short enough to maintain the scarcity that made people value the time. I talked to two journalists, a government technology advisor, and the head of a European infrastructure fund who wanted to discuss the London expansion.
And then, at some point between the infrastructure fund and the second journalist, I was standing next to Katia.
It wasn’t engineered. That was the thing I kept coming back to later, in the car, on the way home, going over it the way you went over a race lap looking for the moment you gained or lost time. It wasn’t engineered. We had both moved through the room and ended up at the same point at the same time, which in a room this size and this controlled was either coincidence or geometry, and I had never believed in coincidence.
“The Frankfurt question,” I said, because it was the first thing I thought of, and I had been thinking about it since Davies told me she’d pushed back on the timeline. “You were right about the sixteen days p>
She turned. Not surprised to find me there — her eyes said she’d known I was nearby for at least the last five minutes. “I know,” she said. “Davies knows too. He just needed someone to say it out loud in front of witnesses p>
“Is that your management strategy? Saying what people already know out loud in front of witnesses p>
“It’s one of them.” She tilted her head slightly. “Is your strategy waiting for other people to say the thing first and then agreeing with it p>
“Only when the other person is right p>
“And how often does that happen p>
“More often than I expected,” I said. “Recently p>
Something shifted in her expression—there and gone, filed away before I could read it. She looked at the room instead, the way she sometimes did when she wanted a moment to think without me watching the thinking happen.
“Good event,” she said.
“Your presentation was excellent p>
“I know that too,” but she said it differently than she said the Frankfurt thing, not as armor, just as fact. There was a difference, and I had learned to hear it. “The encryption question in the Q&A. The one from the woman in the grey suit p>
“I heard it p>
“That was the right question. The only one that actually tested the architecture.” She paused. “The others were positioning. She was genuinely curious p>
“I know. I’ve already had her details sent to my office.” I looked at her sideways. “You were going to suggest the same thing p>
A beat. “I was going to suggest the same thing p>
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