Hailey
Marcus closes the door behind us, and for a moment, just studies me.
"You handled today well," he says finally, leaning against the edge of his desk. "Better than some seasoned professionals would've."
"Thank you," I say, caught off guard by the rare praise.
"Don't let it go to your head." A wry smile flickers at the edge of his mouth. "Paris is going to be ten times harder. More pressure, higher stakes, tighter deadlines. The client is demanding and used to getting what they want."
"I can handle it," I reply, more confidently than I feel.
"I believe you can. That's why I pushed for you." Marcus straightens, his tone shifting.
"Thank you," I say.
Marcus nods, then walks around his desk and begins gathering a few documents. The pause stretches, heavy with the weight of everything unspoken.
"There's one more thing," he says, not looking up. "About Josh."
My breath catches.
