Chapter 53 Meeting and Kisses
Soon, Jack disappeared into the adjoining room to check our schedule for the next day.
I kicked off my shoes, the dull thud of them hitting the floor made me exhale, long and slow, as if my body had been waiting for permission to stop pretending it wasn’t exhausted.
I lay down on the bed and sprawled out feeling ease in my chest.
And then—there came a cautious knock on the door.
I blinked, lifting my head just enough to call out, “Yes?”
Jack was already crossing the room.
He opened the door, and a young hotel attendant stepped inside, perfectly groomed, pushing a cart layered with silver-domed dishes and bottles of wine and mineral water.
The scent of garlic and butter hit the air instantly.
My stomach, which had apparently been running purely on adrenaline, suddenly remembered it was human.
Jack glanced back at me, his brow raised.
“Did you order this?”
I propped myself up on my elbows, eyes widening as I took in the spread. “No,” I said honestly. “But I’m not complaining.”
The attendant smiled politely.
“Compliments of the hotel, Ms. Vale. Mr. Roman. We hope your stay exceeds your expectations.”
I scoffed, of course they knew.
Then the attendant bowed lightly and slipped back out, closing the door behind him with professionalism.
I sat up fully, my legs folding beneath me as I stared at the table.
Jack let out a low whistle. “Looks like someone figured out who you are.”
I laughed softly, shaking my head.
“They must have. This is over-the-top… but in the best way.”
I moved to the table, lifting a glass of wine and taking a sip.
Hmm... Rich and smooth—a warmth that lingered in my throat.
I bit into the grilled fish layered over lemon rice and sighed, leaning back slightly.
“I needed this trip more than I thought.”
Jack looked up, fork paused midair.
“Yeah?”
I nodded slowly, wine glass warm in my hand. “Not just for business, for me—you know what I mean.” My voice surprised me with its honesty. “I was starting to feel like I’d forgotten what it meant to just… be human.” I chuckled at the last part.
Jack’s gaze stayed on me attentively.
“Everything’s been a storm lately,” I continued, gesturing vaguely around us. “This feels like the kind of calm I didn’t know I was starving for.”
He studied my face for a moment deciding not to offer some overly sentimental response.
He just lifted his glass and clinked it gently against mine. “A toast to stillness,” he said.
Stillness?
I smiled, the sound of the glass soft in the warm room. “To remembering who we are outside the chaos.” I added.
And we drank.
Jack didn't make small talks and I didn't either.
And then—something mischievous stirred inside me—a spark I hadn’t felt in months.
It felt like the right kind of impulse surprising to me. I leaned forward, resting my chin lightly on the rim of my wine glass.
Jack looked up from his glass, candlelight catching the sharp edges of his face.
“You know,” I began slowly, “I heard Lisbon has some of the best nightlife in Europe.”
Jack’s brow arched immediately in surprise.
“And here I was thinking you’d want to call it an early night.”
I rolled my eyes a little remembering how enthusiastic he was about me taking a break and going on a trip but now, he seemed like a downer. Well, I couldn’t blame him because his dad happened.
So I sipped my drink and smirked. “What, you think I’m some boardroom-bound bore?”
He chuckled, shaking his head.
“No. I just figured between the jet lag, the food coma, and… everything else, you’d want to stay in. Maybe get some rest.”
I swirled the wine in my glass, watching the liquid move. “Rest sounds nice,” I admitted.
Then I looked up at him, with bright eyes.
“But dancing sounds better.”
Jack went still for a beat before he burst out in low laughter.
Even if it's just for a night, I didn't want to be Elena Vale the strategist. I wanted to be a woman who wanted one night where no one expected anything.
“You’re serious?” he asked, like he needed to hear it twice.
I stood, already moving toward my suitcase with sudden purpose. “Very—a hundred percent.”
Jack exhaled, half-laughing as he leaned back in his chair and took another sip of wine. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I glanced over my shoulder, my lips curving. I didn't care if it was the effect of the alcohol kicking in. “Then I suggest you dress well for the occasion.”
Then, slowly, his mouth tilted into that rare, real smile.
“Fine,” he said rubbing his forehead. “One night.”
My grin widened. “Yes... one night,” I echoed.
I had a slight headache from the previous nice but I ignored it the moment I walked into the boardroom.
The familiar weight returned, of course we were here for work.
When I looked at my phone, I realized that I'd missed several of Layla’s calls.
Why did she call so many times?
I rubbed my forehead absentmindedly and decided that I would call her back later on. I straightened my spine and walked further into the room.
Faces turned toward me with majorly the look of neutrality, some welcoming, some wary, but I knew they were wondering.
I adjusted my blazer as I walked, the fabric fitting perfectly.
Jack was beside me, his presence was grounding in a way I’d come to rely on without admitting it too openly.
He scanned the room like he always did, absorbing details most people missed—the tension in shoulders, the way certain directors avoided looking at me too long, the subtle alliances forming in the spaces between greetings.
Then we took our seats before the usual parade began.
Introductions...
Pleasantries... and voices layered with politeness:
“Elena Vale, it’s an honor to finally have you here in person.”
“We’ve been looking forward to this visit.”
“The Lisbon branch is proud to remain a cornerstone of Vale Corp’s international portfolio.”
I smiled and nodded when appropriate as we began the meeting fully.
“We’re seeing a decline in Q3 output, yes,” I said, flipping through the report. “But the root isn’t demand. It’s operational leakage. And that’s what we’re here to address.”
Across the table, one of the directors leaned forward.
“With respect, Ms. Vale, restructuring is the only way forward. Aggressive restructuring.. to be precise.”
His accent was crisp. He was an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, the kind of executive who’d built his career on hard decisions and harder expressions.
Jack’s gaze sharpened slightly but I kept my face neutral.
“And by aggressive,” I asked calmly, “you mean layoffs?”
The man didn’t blink. “I mean efficiency.”
A woman across from him with sharp eyes and composed posture—spoke up. “And I mean sustainability,” she countered smoothly. “You don’t build long-term stability by gutting the workforce every time numbers dip.”
The air in the room shifted.
Jack was silent.
I felt it in the way people sat straighter, in the subtle rustle of papers, in the quiet anticipation of conflict. The discussion began to tilt.
Market expansion clashed with logistic realities, cost-cutting collided with employee welfare—every sentence sounded reasonable on its own, but together they formed something volatile.
A storm of well-articulated disagreement. Then voices rose in sharp pitches:
“We cannot afford sentimentality—”
“It’s not sentimentality, it’s strategy—”
“The shareholders expect decisive action—”
“The shareholders aren’t the ones keeping the supply chain running—”
My fingers rested lightly on my notepad, but my mind was moving faster than my pen.
I stepped in when necessary, my voice cutting through the noise like velvet steel.
“We’re not here to tear this branch apart,” I said evenly. “We’re here to identify the sabotage before we start amputating limbs that are still healthy.”
That earned the room a pause and a few glances.
Jack leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, still silent.
And when he spoke, the room listened.
“You’re arguing about restructuring,” he said with a controlled tone. “But no one has explained why expenses are being funneled through shell vendors in the first place.”
There was silence and the older director stiffened.
“That’s a serious accusation.”
But Jack’s expression didn’t change.
“It’s a serious discrepancy.”
I watched the way the woman director’s eyes flickered—she knew or already suspected.
My pulse steadied, but I felt something cold settle in the pit of my stomach.
No doubt—Damien’s fingerprints were here.
Maybe not directly but I could see the rot.
Hours passed with thinned patience and cold coffee.
Jack checked his watch more than once, though he never looked impatient—only aware of time slipping like sand.
Finally, the chairperson rubbed his temple and sighed.
“Let’s adjourn until tomorrow,” he said diplomatically. “There’s too much still on the table. We’ll all make better decisions with fresh minds.”
Chairs scraped back as papers were gathered, and polite nods returned but the tension remained.
Jack’s hand brushed my lower back as we exited the boardroom.
“That was… less of a meeting and more of a battleground.”
I couldn’t help the small smile that cracked through my exhaustion. “Welcome to corporate diplomacy.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “I’ll take physical fights over this any day.”
I chuckled softly as we stepped into the elevator. The doors closed with a soft chime, sealing us into a brief pocket of quiet.
Jack leaned against the mirrored wall before he spoke.
“You were good in there.”
I glanced at him.
“Exhaustion doesn’t mean I'm broken,” I murmured.
His eyes held mine for a beat longer than necessary.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’m starting to learn that.”
That evening, after we returned to the hotel,
I started undoing the buttons of my blazer, already half-dreaming of a hot shower— before I knew it, Jack was in front of me.
He pulled me in before his hands found my waist with firm urgency, and before I could even process it, his lips were on mine—abrupt and hungry.
I barely had time to gasp before my body responded instinctively, molding into his.
The exhaustion I felt didn’t vanish, it just melted and heat replaced tension.
I didn’t realize my eyes widened in surprise until I snorted—a muffled, amused sound against his mouth.
Jack paused just enough to look at me.
I blinked back something. “Well… that’s one way to decompress.” I murmured.
His mouth curved into that crooked smirk flickering like mischief. "You looked like you needed it,” he said with amusement.
His fingertips brushed up my sides before settling against my back, steadying me.
“I did,” I admitted honestly, tilting my head slightly as I studied him. “But I didn’t know you were planning an ambush.”
He shrugged casually but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him.
“We’ve been in boardrooms and suits all day,” he murmured. “I needed a reminder that you’re mine.”
My stomach fluttered not just at his words, but the way he said them.
I let my hands slide up his chest as my fingers brushed the top button of his shirt.
“You’re lucky I was too tired to dodge.”
He leaned in again, deliberate and slower this time as if savoring what the first kiss had stolen.
Then his lips pressed softly against my forehead. “I’ll always take my chances,” he whispered before his lips crashed violently against mine.