Chapter 65 I Should Go
Briar's POV
The afternoon light slanted through the conference room windows at Vance Botanicals, turning the spreadsheets on Eric's tablet into grids of pale gold. He sat across from me with his jaw set.
"Pre-orders hit twenty thousand units," he said, his voice flat in a way that should have sounded pleased but didn't. He turned the tablet toward me, and I leaned forward to study the numbers. The immune-boosting capsules were leading by a significant margin, the ones Owen had featured in her "Revenge Glow-Up" series, the deliberately ugly blob-shaped design that had somehow become a selling point.
Eric's finger stabbed at the screen. "These consumers are buying health supplements seriously?"
I glanced up at him and found his face had gone that particular shade of tight-lipped frustration.
"The clinical-grade immune modulators are selling steadily through medical channels," he continued, his tone sharpening. "Actual healthcare providers are ordering those for patients who need regulated immune support, and meanwhile we have twenty thousand people buying capsules because an influencer told them it was funny."
I let him finish, then leaned back in my chair. "Eric, the people buying from Ash's audience aren't the same demographic purchasing through medical suppliers. We're reaching a younger market that wouldn't have considered immune support at all if it hadn't been presented in a way that felt accessible to them."
His expression didn't soften. "Accessible. We spent months formulating a product with real bioavailability, real clinical backing, and it's being sold as a joke."
"It's not a joke to the people who are buying it," I said, keeping my voice level. "Rowan's audience trusts her. They're buying it because she told them it works, and the fact that she made them laugh while doing it doesn't make the product less effective."
Eric stared at me for a long moment, then let out a breath that sounded like frustration leaving his body. "Fine. What's the plan for expanding the product line?"
I pulled my notes toward me. "We add two variations to the base formula. A basic version for daily maintenance, lower dosage, and a higher-concentration energy support blend for athletes or high-stress professions."
He nodded slowly. "If we're going to expand into those markets, the packaging needs to reflect the shift. The influencer audience will tolerate novelty design, but if we want medical professionals to take the energy blend seriously, it has to look like something that belongs in a clinical setting."
I had been thinking the same thing. "I want to bring Chloe in to design the medical-grade packaging."
Eric's expression went still. He set the tablet down carefully. "Chloe Davenport. The woman who is engaged to Julian Sterling, and you want to invite her into our product development process."
I understood his concern, but I had seen the way Chloe looked at the Lunar Stabilizer formula when I had mentioned it at the gala, the genuine professional interest. "I'll handle the risk. If she agrees, we'll structure the contract to protect our formulations."
Eric didn't look convinced, but he didn't argue further.
The restaurant that evening was loud with too many people talking at once, glasses clinking against plates, laughter rising and falling across the dining room. I had reserved a private corner table for the marketing team and the three student influencers, and by the time everyone had arrived, the noise had condensed into something almost comfortable.
Ash was sitting two seats down from me, his grin flashing every time Damon said something inappropriate. Liam was quieter, nursing a soda.
I had intended to stay sharp, but someone had ordered wine, and I had accepted a glass without thinking, and then a second when the first had emptied faster than I had noticed. The alcohol settled into my bloodstream with a pleasant warmth that made the noise feel less overwhelming.
Ash caught my eye across the table and leaned forward. "How's the packaging design coming along?"
I kept my expression neutral. "We're exploring a few directions. I'll have more concrete updates next week."
It wasn't a lie. It also wasn't the truth. Jessica's leak was still an open variable, and until I knew exactly what she had passed to Julian, I wasn't sharing specifics with anyone outside the core team.
The evening stretched longer than I had planned, and by the time I glanced at my watch, it was past nine. I stood, steadying myself against the table as the wine made the floor feel slightly less solid, and announced I was calling cars for anyone who needed a ride.
Outside, the night air was sharp enough to cut through the pleasant haze in my head. I waited with Ash, Damon, and Liam while the rideshare app cycled through drivers.
The car arrived, and I ushered them inside. Ash paused before climbing in, glancing back toward the restaurant. "My brother said he'd pick me up."
I waited. Thirty seconds passed, then a minute, and Ash's expression shifted from hopeful to annoyed to resigned. He climbed into the car without another word, pulling the door shut harder than necessary.
The street was quieter now, and I turned toward the nearest transit stop, my heels clicking against the pavement. Three steps in, my right heel caught in a sidewalk grate, and I stopped. I bent down and worked it free, slipping both shoes off and holding them as I walked to the corner.
There was a low concrete step at the edge of the plaza, and I sat down, setting my shoes beside me and letting my feet rest against the cool pavement. The wine was still there, a warm weight behind my eyes, and I let my head tip back, staring at the slice of sky visible between buildings.
I had walked this street with Rowan once, months ago. And I had walked it with Lucian, just once, his hand catching my elbow when I had stumbled, his grip steadying me with a pressure that had felt careful and deliberate.
My fingers moved without conscious intent, finding the inside of my elbow and pressing against the skin there, tracing the place where his hand had rested. The warmth was gone, but my body remembered it anyway, and I rubbed at the spot as if I could erase the memory through friction.
I looked up toward the pedestrian bridge in the distance, watching silhouettes move across it.
I didn't hear him approach. One moment I was alone, and the next moment there was a voice beside me, low and familiar.
"Fell asleep?"
I turned my head, and Lucian was there, sitting on the step beside me as if he had been there the entire time, his shoulder close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He wasn't looking at me. His gaze was directed toward the same stretch of street.
I didn't answer. We sat in silence, the kind that stretched long enough to stop feeling awkward and start feeling like something else.
Finally, I stood, my legs unsteady beneath me. I bent to pick up my shoes. "I put Ash in a car already. You don't need to worry about him."
Lucian looked up at me, and the angle put his face directly in my line of sight, his eyes dark and steady and fixed on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. His mouth curved into something that wasn't quite a smile. "Who said I came for him?"
The words landed with a weight I hadn't been prepared for. From this position, I should have felt like I had the advantage, standing while he sat. But the way he was watching me made me feel like I was the one being led.
I took a step back, my bare feet cold against the pavement. "I should go."
I didn't get another step. His hand closed around my ankle, his grip firm but not painful. "You always run before I finish talking."
The touch sent a jolt through me, and I felt my balance shift, my body tilting backward. I didn't fall. I sat, hard and fast, directly into his lap, my hands flying out to catch myself and landing on the solid muscle of his thigh.
His arm came around my waist immediately, locking me in place, his hand splayed flat against the small of my back. I could feel every point of contact between us, the way my hip pressed against his stomach, the way my fingers dug into his leg.
Our faces were inches apart. His free hand came up, his fingers finding the side of my neck and resting there, his thumb brushing against the edge of my jaw.
His voice was barely above a whisper, rough and low. "Still want to get up?"