Part 11 ( Juliet )

The morning rush of Baldwin Lux is a symphony of efficiency. The glass-paneled lobby, employees moving with purpose, assistants trailing behind executives, the polished marble floors reflecting the sharp heels of power.

The moment I step inside, my assistant, Claire, is already waiting by the entrance, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. She greets me with her usual composed efficiency. "Good morning, Ms. Baldwin."

"Morning." I take the coffee from her, the warmth bleeding into my fingertips as we fall into step.

She doesn't waste time with pleasantries, already swiping through her tablet as we move toward the private elevator. "Your schedule for today— first, a conference call with our European partners at nine, followed by a quarterly review with the finance department. Lunch with the new investor group at one. Your legal team has a brief update on the upcoming acquisition at three."

I nod, barely needing to process the details. My days are structured down to the minute, every meeting, every obligation, every expectation laid out with precision. This is how I've built Baldwin Lux. This is how I keep control.

"And your last meeting of the day," Claire continues as we step into the elevator, the doors sliding shut behind us, "is at five-thirty. With Anthony Vasquez and his client."

I exhale, taking a sip of my coffee. "And what, exactly, does Vasquez want?"

Claire taps her screen, reading off the details. "He's pitching a business proposal regarding a property development. The lot they're interested in is within Baldwin Lux's jurisdiction. They need approval and potential partnership for licensing and funding."

"Mm." My fingers tighten around my coffee cup. "And his client?"

She exhales softly before saying, "Ellie Crawford."

I don't say anything.

The elevator keeps moving, smooth and unbothered, but my pulse spikes. I don't move, don't react, but something in my chest coils tight.

Ellie.

Again.

The name lingers in the air, weighted with a history I don't allow myself to acknowledge. It shouldn't faze me. It's been years. We are different people, different lives.

Still, my feet refuse to move the moment the elevator doors slide open to the executive floor.

Claire notices. She hesitates, her professional demeanor cracking just slightly. "Would you like me to cancel?"

The question lingers between us, an escape offered in the quiet of the hallway.

I exhale, slowly, deliberately, before stepping forward. "No."

Claire keeps pace beside me, matching my stride. "Are you sure?"

I nod once, firm. "Yes. Business is business."

It is not personal. It will not be personal.

Claire accepts this with a single nod. "I'll confirm the meeting."

I don't reply. I simply keep walking, my heels clicking against the pristine floors, my grip firm around my coffee cup as I prepare for a meeting that, no matter how much I tell myself otherwise, will be anything but simple.

-

The morning passes in a whirlwind of controlled precision. Three back-to-back meetings, each one demanding my undivided attention, each one another step in maintaining the company I've built.

By the time the meeting wraps up, my patience is stretched thin.

I glance at the clock. Lunchtime. Finally.

I exhale, rolling my shoulders slightly before standing, prepared to take at least a moment to breathe. But before I can, the doors to my office fly open, so abruptly that Claire, my assistant, practically stumbles inside in an attempt to stop the inevitable.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Baldwin," Claire rushes out, slightly out of breath. "I told her a million times that you were unavailable, but she—"

I cut her off with a small, tired sigh. "It's fine, Claire." My gaze flickers to the woman standing smugly in the doorway. "Mia does whatever Mia wants to do."

Mia grins, completely unbothered.

Claire hesitates for half a second, glancing between us before nodding stiffly and stepping aside. "I'll leave you to it."

The second the door closes behind her, Mia walks in like she owns the place, plopping down into one of the chairs across from my desk.

She kicks her heels up onto the edge of the desk, arms crossing behind her head. "You look like you've had a long morning."

I arch a brow. "And you look like you're about to be escorted out by security."

Mia smirks. "Please. Your security likes me. I'm fun."

I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Mia, why are you here?"

She shrugs. "I missed you."

I shoot her a flat look. "Try again."

Mia tilts her head, studying me for a second before dropping her feet to the floor and leaning forward, arms resting on the desk. "Alright, fine. I had lunch plans with Aiden, but he bailed because of work. And since my second option is my dear, beloved best friend who I haven't seen in forever—"

I snort. "We saw each other last night."

"—I figured I'd stop by and take you to lunch." She grins. "Surprise."

I shake my head, sitting back in my chair. "You do realize I have a company to run?"

Mia waves a dismissive hand. "Yeah, yeah, you're busy and powerful and terrifying, I know. But even you need to eat." She glances around my office, then back at me. "And let's be real, you were probably just going to sit here and stress-work through lunch, weren't you?"

I don't answer.

Mia smirks knowingly. "That's what I thought." She stands, smoothing out her dress. "Come on. We're going out. My treat."

I exhale, tapping my fingers against my desk. The rational part of me knows I should decline. I have emails to respond to, documents to review, meetings to prepare for. But another part of me, the part that's been wound too tight all morning, knows that if I don't step away now, I won't at all.

And Mia, as insufferable as she is, has a point.

I glance at my schedule before standing, smoothing down my blazer. "Fine. An hour."

Mia grins. "Perfect."

I grab my coat, stepping out of my office with Mia at my side, already regretting whatever chaos she's about to drag me into.

-

The restaurant Mia picks is nothing short of extravagant.

Not that I expected anything less. She may act like she doesn't care about high society, but she knows exactly where to find the best of the best. The kind of place where the wine list is longer than the menu.

We're seated in a private section, a curved booth tucked away from prying eyes. It's discreet but still dripping in exclusivity.

Mia takes her seat across from me, slipping off her sunglasses and setting them on the table. The waiter appears instantly, handing us our menus before retreating with a polished, professional nod.

I glance over the options briefly before setting mine aside. I already know what I want.

Mia hums, scanning the menu with vague interest before flipping it shut. "We'll start with the seafood tower and a bottle of the Château Margaux—" she pauses, glancing at me, "—unless you're still on your 'no alcohol during workdays' thing?"

I arch a brow. "If you remember that, why ask?"

She grins. "Because I like to push my luck."

I shake my head, but she just hands the menu back to the waiter, finalizing the order with the effortless ease of someone who's been dining at places like this since she was old enough to hold a fork.

When the waiter leaves, she leans forward, resting her chin on her hand, eyes gleaming with something far too mischievous for my liking.

"Spill."

I blink. "Spill?"

Mia huffs, gesturing vaguely. "Uh, hello? Last night? Ellie?"

I exhale slowly, but I don't resist. I knew this was coming the moment she showed up at my office.

I pick up my water glass, tapping my fingers against the cool surface. "It was... unexpected."

Mia scoffs. "No shit. You seeing Ellie Crawford at your masquerade ball? That's a cosmic joke if I've ever heard one."

I hum, swirling the water in my glass before taking a sip.

She shakes her head. "Okay, wait. Start from the beginning. When did you first see her?"

I exhale, thinking back to last night, to the waltz, to the moment I turned and met those too-familiar blue eyes.

I tell Mia everything.

I tell her about the dance, about the way my entire body froze before I even recognized who I was looking at. I tell her about the unbearable tension, the silence stretched too tight between us, the way neither of us could move, speak, breathe.

I tell her about the balcony. About how I ran into Ellie outside, how the air between us felt suffocating, how neither of us had the right words. How she looked at me like she was seeing a ghost.

Mia listens intently, her expression shifting between shock, amusement, and something more serious.

"You talked to her?" she asks, eyes narrowing slightly.

I nod. "Briefly."

"And?"

I hesitate. "And... she's different."

Mia tilts her head, studying me carefully. "Different how?"

I shift slightly, my fingers brushing against the linen napkin beside my plate. "She carries herself differently. More controlled. More measured." I pause, rolling my lips together. "But she still feels the same."

Mia watches me, something knowing flickering behind her gaze. "You mean she still feels the same."

I exhale through my nose, gaze flicking to the window for a brief second before landing back on her. "I mean being around her still feels the same. Like time hasn't changed a damn thing." I shake my head slightly, fingers tightening around my glass. "Which is ridiculous, because it has. We have. But standing in front of her last night, looking into her eyes—it was like muscle memory. Like my body remembered something my mind spent years trying to forget."

Mia hums, watching me closely. "And how do you feel about that?"

I let out a quiet scoff, lifting my drink to my lips. "Like I should've stayed inside last night."

Mia leans back against the booth, exhaling. "Damn."

The waiter returns with our seafood tower and wine. He expertly pours Mia a glass while I stick to my water, and once he's gone, Mia wastes no time spearing a piece of lobster with her fork.

"So," she says, taking a bite, "what else?"

I sigh, picking up my own fork. "She has a girlfriend."

Mia gives me a sympathetic look.

I roll my eyes. "It's been six years, Mia. I didn't expect her to stay single forever."

Mia smirks. "So why do you look like you did expect it?"

I level her with a flat stare, but she just grins, sipping her wine like she's enjoying this far too much.

"Anyway," I say, ignoring her.

I pick at my seafood, pushing a mussel around my plate before answering. "She's... nice."

Mia lifts a brow. "Nice?"

I exhale. "She's composed. Confident. Seems well-mannered. Smart."

Mia hums. "And you hate that."

I don't respond immediately. Because I do hate it.

I hate that Ellie has someone who fits into her life. Someone who is good for her. Someone who isn't me.

I hate that I saw them together and felt something burn through me so sharp and so ugly that it took everything in me to keep my expression neutral.

I hate that I envied it.

Mia watches me closely, her smirk fading into something softer. "You know, it's okay to admit it."

I tilt my head. "Admit what?"

She lifts her wine glass, swirling the deep red liquid. "That it still hurts."

I inhale slowly, but I don't answer.

Mia doesn't push. She knows me well enough to know that silence is an answer.

We eat in quiet for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling between us.

Mia taps her nails against the stem of her glass. "So. What now?"

I sigh, setting my fork down. "Nothing. I have a meeting with her."

Mia blinks. "I'm sorry, what?"

I take a sip of water, unbothered. "Anthony scheduled a meeting with Baldwin Lux regarding a property deal. Ellie's involved."

Mia stares at me like I've grown a second head. "You're telling me you just ran into your ex after six years of radio silence, and now you have to work with her?"

I nod. "Essentially, yes."

Mia lets out a sharp laugh. "Jesus. The universe is messy."

I hum, swirling my water idly. "Or just cruel."

Mia exhales, shaking her head. "So what are you gonna do?"

I lift a shoulder. "What I always do. Business."

Mia scoffs. "Business? Business? Juliet, come on. Don't act like this is just some random deal. It's Ellie."

I level her with a look. "And Baldwin Lux does not make decisions based on personal history."

Mia rolls her eyes. "You are so full of shit."

I smirk. "Am I?"

She glares playfully but doesn't argue.

I lean back, crossing my legs. "This isn't about us, Mia. It's about a deal. Nothing more."

Mia studies me, then exhales, shaking her head. "Fine. Keep lying to yourself."

I just smile.

Because the truth is, Mia is right.

It's about the way seeing her again, hearing her say my name, looking into those eyes after all this time—

It's about the fact that no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise...It still matters.

-

Mia tries to argue about the check. She really does. But I shut that down before it even becomes a discussion.

"Juliet, come on—"

I slide my black card into the bill folder and snap it shut before she can finish her sentence. My voice is calm, final. "You know better than to try, Mia."

She groans, shaking her head. "One day, I'm gonna get you to let me pay."

I smirk, slipping my coat back on. "Sure. Keep dreaming."

She rolls her eyes but doesn't argue further. Instead, she stands, pulling me into a brief but firm hug. I return it, letting my hands linger on her back for just a second longer than usual. Because for all the jokes, for all the snark, she's still Mia. My best friend. And I needed her more than I realized.

She pulls back first, smoothing her coat over her shoulders. "You gonna be okay?"

I inhale, steadying myself. "Of course."

Mia gives me a pointed look, like she knows that's bullshit, but she doesn't call me on it. Instead, she just nods, her smirk returning. "Try not to drool in that meeting, Miss Baldwin."

I scoff. "You offend me."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Right. Because you're totally fine. Unbothered. Ice fucking cold."

I tilt my head slightly. "Now you're catching on."

She scoffs but doesn't push further. "Text me later."

I nod, then step outside. The city air greets me like a rush of clarity, the cool wind slipping between the towering buildings as I walk back to the car waiting for me at the curb.

-

The ride back to the company is quiet, smooth, efficient, just like I need it to be. I let my eyes drift over the skyline, the towering glass of Midtown reflecting the sunlight in sharp angles.

I force my mind onto work. Onto what's next.

Not Ellie. Not last night. Not the way her presence still lingers in my body like something unwelcome, something inevitable.

By the time I step into the Baldwin Lux headquarters, I'm composed. Focused.

The lobby is as pristine as ever, white marble gleaming beneath the soft glow of overhead lighting. Employees move with quiet efficiency, all sharp suits and murmured conversations.

Claire is waiting for me by the elevator, already holding a fresh coffee in one hand and my updated schedule in the other.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Baldwin," she greets, falling into step beside me as I stride toward my office.

I take the coffee without breaking pace. "Afternoon, Claire."

Her heels click against the floor as she scrolls through her tablet. "You've successfully completed all your morning meetings. Legal sent over the finalized contracts for the Maxwell deal—already approved, waiting for your signature."

I nod. "Good."

"And your last meeting for today is already here. Anthony Vasquez and his client arrived about fifteen minutes ago."

I halt.

Just for a fraction of a second.

Claire, ever observant, notices immediately. "Would you like me to reschedule?"

I inhale slowly, my fingers tightening around the coffee cup before relaxing just as quickly. I glance at her, my expression unreadable.

"No," I say, voice perfectly even. "That won't be necessary."

Claire nods. "They're waiting in the conference room. I let them know you'd be arriving shortly."

I exhale, nodding once. "Good."

I turn on my heel, heading toward the conference room with measured, purposeful strides. Claire follows for a few steps before veering off toward her desk, leaving me to handle this alone.

I take one last sip of my coffee, then set it down on a side table as I reach the door.

I don't hesitate. I don't pause.

I push the door open and step inside.

And there she is. Sitting at the long, sleek glass table, looking just as composed, just as in control as she did last night. A stark contrast to the way my pulse momentarily stutters at the sight of her.

Anthony is mid-conversation, laughing about something, but the second I enter, the energy shifts. He glances up, offering his usual smirk. "Ah, Miss Baldwin. Pleasure, as always."

I barely register his words.

Because Ellie's eyes meet mine, and the entire room sharpens.

Professional. Business. Unbothered.

I smooth my blazer, step forward, and smile.

"Mr. Vasquez," I greet coolly. Then I turn my gaze onto her.

"Miss Crawford."

Her jaw tightens, just slightly. Then she leans back in her chair, her lips curling into something resembling a smirk.

"Miss Baldwin."

I take my seat.

Anthony leans back in his chair, the usual arrogance dripping from his smirk as he steeples his fingers together. "Alright, let's cut straight to the chase." His gaze flickers between me and Ellie before settling back on me. "We want the property on West 57th."

I lift a brow, resting my hands neatly on the table. "Do you?"

Ellie doesn't react. But I see the way her fingers tap subtly against the armrest of her chair, like she's forcing herself to stay relaxed.

Anthony nods. "Yeah. The club we're working on—it needs the right location. And you, of course," he gestures toward me with lazy ease, "own half the damn city. Unfortunately for us, that half includes the exact block we need."

I hum, my expression unreadable. "Unfortunate indeed."

Anthony chuckles, unbothered. "So, what do you think? We lease, we negotiate, we figure out a way that works for everyone."

I glance at Ellie. She's still leaning back, her hoodie loose around her shoulders, looking like she couldn't care less if I said yes or no. But I know better.

I know her.

Her hands are resting on the table, fingers loosely clasped together, but there's tension in her shoulders, the kind she probably doesn't even realize is there.

I shift my attention back to Anthony. "And if I say no?"

Anthony exhales through his nose, tilting his head slightly, like he was expecting that question. "Then we go somewhere else. Not ideal, but not impossible. It'll push the project back. A lot. But we'll figure it out."

I tap my nails against the smooth surface of the table, my mind already running through calculations. That property—West 57th—is valuable. Prime real estate. I'd been holding onto it for a while, waiting for the right opportunity. I never imagined this would be it.

I glance at Ellie again.

Her jaw is locked, her gaze focused on the table, like she's making a point not to look at me.

I inhale slowly, exhaling through my nose. "Why this location?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.

Ellie finally speaks. "Because it's perfect." Her voice is even, smooth. "It's the right size, the right crowd, the right distance from midtown without being suffocated by tourists."

She says it like a fact. Like it's just business. Like she's not sitting across from me for the first time in years asking me for something.

Anthony nods, gesturing to Ellie. "Exactly. We both know a project like this will bring in a ridiculous amount of foot traffic, which is only gonna make your property value shoot up. We want the space. You'd profit regardless."

He leans forward slightly. "So, what do you say, Baldwin?"

I don't answer immediately.

Instead, I shift back in my chair, studying them both, letting the moment stretch just a little too long.

Ellie doesn't fidget. She doesn't squirm. But I see the tension in her jaw tighten by a fraction.

I inhale, tilting my head slightly. "You'll need to make me an offer worth considering."

Anthony grins, clearly pleased that I haven't shot them down entirely. "Now we're talking."

I glance at Ellie again. Her eyes meet mine this time, steady, unwavering.

I keep my expression perfectly composed. "Send me a proposal. I'll review it."

Ellie doesn't blink. "You'll review it." she echoes, voice unreadable.

I hold her gaze. "Yes."

Anthony claps his hands together once. "Great. I'll have it sent over by tomorrow."

I nod once, smooth and controlled. "Then we're done here."

Ellie is already standing before I even push my chair back. She's efficient like that. Always moving, always onto the next thing.

I stand too, smoothing my blazer. Anthony grins, offering a hand, and I shake it briefly before turning to Ellie.

She doesn't offer her hand. I don't either.

Instead, she simply nods, her voice neutral. "Miss Baldwin."

I nod back. "Miss Crawford."

She turns and walks out, Anthony following right behind her.

I wait a beat before exhaling, my fingers pressing lightly against the edge of the table.

It's just business.

That's all this is.

I tell myself that again.

Then I grab my phone, dialing Claire.

"Yes, Ms. Baldwin?" she answers immediately.

"Draft an NDA for this club deal," I say smoothly, already walking toward my office. "If I'm working with Ellie Crawford, I want it airtight."

I hear Claire's typing already. "Of course."

I hang up before she can say anything else.

Then I exhale once more, my fingers tightening around the phone.

This is just business.

And I'll keep telling myself that until it feels true.