Chapter 47
Emily's POV
The office door swung open about fifteen minutes later and both men emerged with expressions I couldn't quite parse. Marco looked less hostile than usual while Alex radiated the quiet satisfaction of someone who'd gotten exactly what they came for.
"Emily." Marco called me over and his tone held an odd mixture of exasperation and respect. "You should hear this too, since apparently you're the one who actually solved his problem."
Alex met my eyes across the space and the look he gave me held layers I didn't have the energy to decode right then. "Actually, I was hoping Emily might be willing to continue this conversation elsewhere. If you're available?" This last part was directed at me, phrased as a question but carrying a weight that suggested the real discussion was just beginning.
I should have said no. Should have cited the late hour and the early class tomorrow and the assignment still waiting on my laptop back in the dorm. Should have maintained some kind of professional distance.
Instead I found myself nodding before I'd fully thought it through. "Yeah. I'm available."
"Perfect." Alex's smile carried genuine warmth that softened some of the calculated edges. "There's a coffee shop not far from here that stays open late. My treat, as thanks for the free consulting work you just provided."
Marco snorted but waved us off and headed back toward the kitchen. "Go. And Emily? That brain of yours? Very dangerous. Use it wisely."
The comment landed with uncomfortable accuracy because it echoed my own earlier thoughts. Dangerous. The ability to see angles other people missed, to reframe problems into opportunities. These were the exact same skills I'd used to orchestrate my father's downfall.
I grabbed my jacket and bag and followed Alex toward the exit. He held the door open and as I passed through into the cool night air, I caught a faint hint of his cologne. Something expensive and understated that somehow fit the paradox of a man who ran a business empire but had just spent twenty minutes stacking chairs in a struggling restaurant.
"You know," I said as we fell into step beside each other on the sidewalk, "you could have just called Marco. You didn't have to show up in person and play the long game with him."
Alex glanced over and the streetlights caught the sharp angles of his face. "Would you have answered if I'd called?"
"Probably not," I admitted.
"Then I suppose I made the right choice." His tone held amusement but also something else underneath. "Besides, some conversations are better had face to face."
We reached the coffee shop and he held the door for me again. It was a small place with warm lighting and mismatched furniture that felt deliberately designed to make people want to linger. I walked through and tried to ignore the feeling that whatever was about to happen would probably complicate my carefully structured life in ways I couldn't predict yet.
We slid into a corner booth and a tired-looking barista came over with menus. "Just decaf for me," I said immediately. "I can't afford to be up all night."
"Smart." Alex ordered the same and the barista shuffled off toward the machine.
"So what's this actually about?" I asked once we were alone. "You got what you needed with Marco's brother, didn't you?"
"This isn't about Marco's brother." Alex leaned back against the booth, his gaze steady on me. "This is about you."
"Me?"
"You." His tone was matter-of-fact. "I came back tonight because I wanted to talk to you specifically."
"About what?"
"About whether you're interested in doing more than just busing tables and helping Marco with his taxes."
The barista returned with our coffees and I wrapped my hands around the mug, grateful for something to do with them. The heat seeped through the ceramic and grounded me.
"I have a proposition for you," Alex said once the barista had left. "And before you assume I'm just trying to poach you away from Marco, hear me out."
"I'm listening."
"I need someone who can look at a business problem and see solutions that aren't obvious. Someone who understands both the numbers and the narrative, who can make the math tell a story. Someone who's hungry enough to prove themselves but smart enough not to make amateur mistakes." He paused and his gaze stayed steady on mine. "That's you."
"You barely know me," I pointed out, even as something in my chest tightened with an emotion I couldn't quite name.
"I know you turned around Marco's entire tax situation in under an hour and saved him thousands of dollars. I know you just solved my chef recruitment problem in under two minutes with an idea I probably wouldn't have thought of on my own. I know you're juggling a major and multiple jobs without ever seeming to break stride." His expression didn't change. "That's enough for me to know what I need to know."
My pulse kicked up but not from attraction, even though he was objectively attractive in that sharp and slightly dangerous way. This was recognition. He was offering me exactly the thing I'd been working toward. A real chance to prove I belonged in spaces I'd never been invited into before.
"What's the proposition?" I asked, keeping my voice level.
"Paid internship. Twenty hours a week, flexible scheduling around your classes. You'd work directly with me on new restaurant concepts. Market analysis, financial modeling, competitive strategy, all of it. Real work, not coffee runs and filing." He took a sip of his coffee. "The pay would be competitive with what you're making at Marco's, probably better once you factor in the per-hour rate."
"Why me specifically? You could hire any MBA student who'd probably have more formal training."
"MBA students think inside the frameworks they were taught. They're good at optimizing existing systems but they're not great at seeing completely new approaches." His smile held a slight edge. "You don't have those frameworks yet, which makes you more valuable to me, not less. You see the problems fresh."
I should have been more suspicious. Should have asked about strings attached or ulterior motives. But all I could think about was the opportunity itself. The chance to learn from someone who operated at a level I'd only imagined from the outside.
"I'd need to keep my shifts at Marco's," I said slowly, testing the parameters. "And it can't interfere with my class schedule. Those are non-negotiable."
"I wouldn't expect anything different. This is about adding value to your life and your resume, not replacing the things that are already working." He seemed to mean it. "I want you learning and contributing, not burning out."
The door chimed and I glanced up reflexively out of habit.
Ethan stood in the doorway.