“Looks like a standard oversight measure,” I said.
“You want me to report to a babysitter? That’s not oversight, Gabriel. That’s containment. You think I’m a risk.”
I didn’t answer, because she already knew the answer. Instead, I crossed my arms, mimicking her stance. Power negotiations 101: mirror your adversary, even if you’re negotiating with the only person in the world you respect enough to hate.
She stepped closer. Not aggressive… just deliberate, precise. “You didn’t even tell me. You let me find out from a legal notification.”
“You’re not the only one under pressure,” I said, and regretted it instantly. She could smell deflection like blood in water.
Her laugh was cold and brief. “Poor Gabriel. The weight of the world on your perfectly tailored shoulders.” She leaned in, voice dropping to a surgical whisper. “If you want to get me out, grow some balls and do it right. Don’t play games.”
I didn’t flinch. “You’re not being fired.”
“But I’m being neutered.” Her lips curled in something between a smile and a warning.
I watched her eyes: dark, sharp, always in motion. She was angry but not afraid, never afraid. There was a challenge there, under the accusation. She wanted a fight.
“What’s your alternative?” I asked.
“Let me do my job,” she shot back. “No chaperones, no leash. Or just pull the trigger and get someone more ‘controllable.’ I’m sure you have a spreadsheet of suitable candidates and their pros and cons somewhere.”
She was right, of course. I had several. But I didn’t want her gone. And Eliza at her limit just made her fucking hotter.
“There’s more at stake than your pride,” I said, low and dangerous.
She laughed again, softer. “We both know that’s not true.”
I looked at her, really looked, searching for a crack in the armor. There wasn’t one. But if I could have named the feeling in my chest, it would have been a mixture of frustration and respect. Maybe even admiration, if I let myself sink that low.
“I’ll talk to legal,” I said, each word tasting like surrender. “But when they tell me no, it’s over.”
She cocked her head. “You didn’t request this?”
I shook my head.
“Who did?”
“I’d guess someone who wants you gone.”
The silence that followed was heavy. Her expression didn’t change, but I knew she was recalibrating.
“Is it you?” she asked.
It was almost funny. Eliza, with the emotional subtlety of a sledgehammer, going straight to the root. I didn’t answer. Instead, I stepped closer, reducing the space between us to inches.
She didn’t move back. Her perfume was sharp and clean, not sweet, like crushed mint over ice.
“You could make this very easy, Gabriel,” she said, so close I could feel her words more than hear them. “Just say what you want. For once.”
I almost did. I almost told her that what I wanted, at this moment, was to stop thinking about the contract, or the company, or the expectations of everyone who’d ever invested anything in me.
What I wanted was to see her lose control, if only for a second.
But I was nothing if not controlled.
“I want results,” I said.
She smirked. “Get the clause pulled. Or the next time I walk into your boardroom, it won’t be for a chat.”