Part 23 ( Juliet )

The moment I step into the Baldwin Lux headquarters, I can feel the shift in energy.

It's subtle, the way people glance at me before looking away just as quickly, the hushed whispers that die the second I pass by.

Something happened.

Claire is already waiting outside my office, phone in hand, sharp-eyed and prepared as always. But there's something else in her expression today, something edged with concern.

"Morning," I say smoothly, adjusting my cuffs as I push open the office door.

"You're late," Claire deadpans, following me in.

"Yes, thank you for that update. Anything else?"

She doesn't answer immediately. Instead, she strides over to my desk, taps her phone screen a few times, then turns it toward me.

I glance down.

A Page Six headline stares back at me in bold, gleaming letters.

"EXES AND OVERTIME: ELLIE CRAWFORD AND JULIET BALDWIN REKINDLING OLD FLAMES?"

I exhale sharply through my nose, jaw tightening as I skim the article.

It's the usual sensationalist nonsense, blurred photos from the gala, a shot of Ellie and me at the bar, another one of her looking at me when she thought no one was watching.

The caption underneath reads: Is there still unfinished business between New York's favorite football star and the queen of luxury?

My lips press into a thin line.

Claire watches me carefully. "It's everywhere."

"Of course it is," I mutter, tossing my phone onto my desk before taking a seat. "Because apparently, two people existing in the same room means rekindling now."

Claire doesn't respond right away.

I glance at her. "What?"

She hesitates, then exhales, setting her phone down. "It's not just the article, Juliet. Social media is eating this up. Everyone's talking about it—fans, the press, even a few investors have sent inquiries."

I arch a brow. "Investors?"

She nods. "Some think the attention could be good for the brand. A high-profile... connection brings more visibility, makes Baldwin Lux more of a lifestyle than just a business."

I let out a short laugh, humorless. "So they want me to capitalize on a rumor."

Claire shrugs. "They're opportunists. You know how this works."

I drag a hand down my face, exhaling slowly. "I don't have time for this."

Claire nods, already shifting back into business mode. "Then we need to get ahead of it. We could issue a statement, shut it down before it gets worse. Or—"

I glance up. "Or?"

Claire tilts her head. "We lean into it."

I stare at her, unimpressed. "Be specific."

She crosses her arms. "Public appearances. Events where you just happen to be seen with someone else. It doesn't have to be serious, just enough to move the conversation elsewhere."

I smirk slightly. "You're suggesting I get a fake date to distract the press."

Claire shrugs, unbothered. "It wouldn't be the first time."

I shake my head. "Not happening."

"Then at least consider—"

"No," I cut her off smoothly, reaching for my laptop. "This will die down on its own. It's just speculation. By next week, they'll be obsessed with some other fabricated drama."

Claire doesn't look convinced, but she lets it go.

"For now," she mutters, flipping through her tablet. "Your schedule is a mess, by the way. Since you didn't show up on time—"

"You're very fixated on this lateness thing," I muse.

Claire glares. "—several meetings had to be pushed. Here's the rundown."

I lean back in my chair, listening as she lists the adjusted schedule.

"Your first meeting is with the creative team at eleven, followed by a call with the Paris branch. You also have a last-minute lunch with the Delacour Group—something about contract renewals. After that, the brand expansion meeting got moved to three, and—"

She pauses.

I lift a brow. "And?"

Her eyes flick up to meet mine. "Your meeting with Ellie and Anthony is still on."

She turns to leave, but pauses at the door, glancing back.

"For what it's worth," she says casually, "Ellie's team hasn't issued a statement either."

I tilt my head. "Meaning?"

Claire shrugs. "Meaning she isn't shutting the rumors down either."

I don't say anything.

Claire gives me one last knowing look before walking out.

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving me in silence.

I reach for my phone, scrolling through the article again, through the comments, through the way people are talking about it.

I should be annoyed. I should be frustrated that my personal life is being dissected in public.

But all I feel is something slow and curling in my chest, something that doesn't quite settle.

Ellie isn't shutting it down either.

And whether I want to admit it or not,

That says something.

And now, I have a meeting to get through.

-

The rest of the day is a blur of meetings, numbers, and decisions.

I don't stop. Not for lunch, not for coffee, not for the tightness in my shoulders that only gets worse with each passing hour.

Claire had tried to intervene once, standing by my desk, arms crossed, giving me the look.

"You have a break scheduled at 4:30," she reminded me.

"I don't need it," I said without looking up.

She sighed, but didn't push.

And now, after back-to-back meetings, after hours of keeping my focus locked onto anything but the article, but the weight curling in my ribs, I check my watch.

5:28.

The meeting with Ellie and Anthony is next.

I exhale slowly, leaning back in my chair for the first time today. My office is quiet now, the floor outside less busy as the day winds down. I should feel accomplished, having crammed a full schedule into a fraction of the time, but all I feel is wired.

I roll my shoulders, pressing my fingers into the tense muscles at the back of my neck before pushing myself to stand.

Claire meets me outside my office, already waiting.

"They're in the conference room," she says, handing me a folder with the latest reports.

I take it without question, skimming the top page as we walk.

"You need coffee," Claire observes.

"I need this meeting to be over," I correct.

She huffs a small laugh. "Then let's get it over with."

-

The Meeting Begins.

Anthony is already seated, fingers tapping idly against the wood, easy smile in place as he scrolls through something on his phone.

Ellie is sitting beside him.

She looks off. Not in an obvious way. Not in a way Anthony seems to notice. But I see it.

She's too still.

The usual relaxed posture is forced, the way her shoulders are set just a little too tight beneath her navy suit. Her hands are clasped together on the table, fingers digging into each other like she's trying to keep them from shaking.

Her eyes flick to me as I walk in.

She looks away.

That's new.

I set my folder down with deliberate care, watching the way she shifts slightly, adjusting her cuffs like she needs to keep her hands busy.

"Let's begin," I say smoothly.

Ellie doesn't respond.

"Alright," Anthony says, rubbing his hands together. "Final logistics. We've got the paperwork prepped for the transfer, just waiting on the last confirmations from legal. Shouldn't be more than a week before it's official."

I nod. "That works."

Anthony sits back in his chair. "Gotta say, Baldwin, I didn't expect this to go so smoothly. Land is power. Most people don't give it up so easily."

I tilt my head slightly, eyes sharp. "Eighteen percent of a profitable club isn't 'easily.'"

Anthony chuckles. "Fair enough."

Ellie hasn't said a word.

She's listening, but not in the way she usually does. She looks like she's somewhere else entirely.

I exhale slowly, keeping my expression neutral. "Crawford, do you have any input, or should I assume your silence means you're in agreement?"

Ellie blinks, like she's snapping out of something. "Huh?"

Anthony notices. "You good, Crawford?"

She straightens immediately. "Yeah." A beat. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Lies.

Anthony doesn't seem to pick up on it. He just rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. "Alright, back to business—"

I watch Ellie carefully, i hum.

"I'm fine," she says, too quickly. Too clipped.

Anthony doesn't notice the shift. He just keeps flipping through the folder. "Like I was saying, Baldwin Lux could handle the—"

I'm not listening anymore.

Because Ellie is sitting across from me, trying to act normal, like she isn't barely holding herself together.

And I can't stop looking at her hands.

The way her fingers are still digging into each other, pressing hard into the space between her knuckles.

Anthony keeps talking.

Ellie keeps pretending.

I close my folder.

Anthony pauses mid-sentence. "Uh, Baldwin?"

I level Ellie with a look. "A word."

Anthony blinks. "Wait, what—"

"Outside," I say, pushing my chair back.

Ellie hesitates.

I lift a brow. "Unless you'd rather keep sitting here pretending you're listening."

Ellie clenches her jaw. Then, without a word, she stands.

Anthony looks between us, utterly lost. "What is happening right now?"

Neither of us answer.

Ellie walks ahead of me, stepping into the hallway. I follow, shutting the door behind us.

The moment we're alone, I cross my arms. "What's wrong with you?"

Ellie exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. "Nothing."

"Lying doesn't suit you."

She lets out a hollow laugh. "I'm not lying."

I tilt my head. "You're not yourself."

Ellie scoffs, looking away. "I didn't realize you were still paying attention."

I don't bite at the bait.

"Ellie." My voice is quieter now. "What happened?"

She looks at me then, really looks at me.

She doesn't have an answer. Just a sharp inhale, a twitch in her jaw.

And something about the way she won't say it, settles heavy in my chest.

She never had trouble talking to me before. Even when we fought, even when we hurt each other, the words always came.

Now, she won't let me in.

I watch her carefully. "Is this about the article?"

She exhales sharply. "You wish that was my problem right now."

I take a step closer, lowering my voice. "Did something happen?"

Ellie shakes her head, jaw tight. "I don't want to talk about it, Juliet." She says in a rough, forced, almost pleading voice.

It makes my fingers curl.

I hate that I care. I hate that I can still see right through her. And I hate that I don't know what the hell happened to put her in this state.

But if she won't tell me, I won't beg.

I school my expression back.  "Fine," I say coolly. "We'll go back to the meeting, then."

Ellie nods stiffly.

And just like that, we go back inside.

Anthony is mid-text, looking up as we return. "That was fast."

I sit down, picking up my pen. "We're done here."

Ellie blinks, surprised. "What?"

"You're clearly not in the right headspace," I say smoothly. "We'll reschedule."

Anthony groans. "Come on—"

I stand. "Meeting's over."

And I don't look at Ellie again as I walk out.

The hallway is quiet as I make my way back, my heels clicking against the polished floors. I keep my posture smooth, my expression blank. No one would know that I just called off a meeting because Ellie Crawford couldn't keep her emotions in check.

Claire is waiting outside my office, one brow raised like she already knows I'm in a mood.

"You cut the meeting short," she states.

I exhale sharply. "It was a waste of time."

Claire sighs, pushing off the wall. "Do you need anything?"

I nod once. "Clear my schedule for the next twenty minutes."

She nods and leaves me alone.

I step into my office, shutting the door behind me before pulling out my phone.

Mia's name is already in my recents.

I press call.

It rings twice before she picks up.

"Jules," Mia greets immediately, her voice light with amusement. "You never call me during work hours. Did capitalism finally exhaust you?"

I roll my eyes. "I need information."

Mia hums, intrigued. "Oh? About what?"

I lean against the edge of my desk. "Ellie."

A pause.

Then, a quiet laugh. "And here I was thinking you were done with her."

I don't react. "She's acting strange."

"Define strange."

I exhale sharply. "Distracted. On edge. Not her usual self."

Mia hums again, this time slower. "Did something happen?"

I press my lips together. "I wouldn't be calling you if I knew, would I?"

"Fair point."

I wait, fingers tapping lightly against the desk.

Mia sighs. "I saw her at the gala, but not after. She didn't text me, didn't call. I figured she was busy with—" She stops.

I already know where that sentence was going.

"Busy with Bella?" I finish for her.

Mia hesitates. "Yeah."

I say nothing.

Mia exhales. "You're sure she's not okay?"

"She barely spoke in the meeting," I say, my voice sharper than I intend.

Mia is quiet for a second. Then, in an exaggeratedly smug voice, she says, "So you do care."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. "Mia."

"I'm just saying! You could've ignored it, but nooo, you're calling me, asking me to investigate."

"Mia."

"Oh my god, this is so good."

"Mia."

"Do you lose sleep thinking about her, too?"

I almost hang up.

Mia cackles. "Okay, okay, I'll find out. You're lucky I adore you, Baldwin."

I exhale, some of the tension in my chest loosening. "Thank you."

"But just so we're clear," Mia adds, "when I do find out, you owe me details on whatever this is between you and Ellie."

I scoff. "There is no this."

She hums. "Mm-hmm."

I don't dignify it with a response.

Instead, I straighten, smoothing down the front of my blazer. "Call me when you know something."

Mia grins through the phone. "I'll get back to you soon, Jules."

I hang up before she can say anything else.

The office is quiet again.

I exhale, setting my phone down.

It's out of my hands now.

I hate waiting. I hate not knowing.

My phone rings again, its vibration a sharp buzz against my desk.

I inhale slowly, already knowing who it is before I glance at the screen.

Anthony Vasquez.

I exhale, pressing my fingers into my temple before answering.

"Anthony," I greet smoothly.

"Juliet," Anthony's voice is light, but there's an unmistakable edge of business beneath it. "I assume you're back in your office, pretending that walking out of the meeting means you don't have to deal with it anymore."

I smirk faintly, twirling my pen between my fingers. "You assume correctly."

"Well, I hate to ruin your streak of dramatic exits, but this meeting needs to happen today."

I tilt my head, watching the city skyline through my office window. "We can reschedule."

Anthony clicks his tongue. "We don't have time to reschedule. We need to move forward with the club plans, and to do that, we need to finalize this deal. Today."

I don't respond right away, choosing instead to let the silence stretch.

Anthony sighs. "Ellie will be in her right mind, I promise."

That catches my attention.

I set my pen down, leaning forward slightly. "Is that so?"

Anthony's voice is confident. "Yes. Everything will be figured out tonight."

I frown slightly at the certainty in his tone. "You know something I don't?"

"I just know Crawford," Anthony says easily. "And I know you. This deal is happening tonight."

I tap my fingers against my desk. "Fine. We'll finish it today."

"Great," Anthony says. "Dinner, then."

I lift a brow. "Excuse me?"

"A fancy, secluded, private dinner," Anthony elaborates. "No distractions, no interruptions. Just business."

I exhale sharply, already irritated. "Vasquez, if this is some attempt at staging a spectacle—"

"Relax, Baldwin," Anthony cuts me off with an amused drawl. "It's just us and Crawford. No press, no audience, no social media speculation. Just a meeting in a setting where no one can storm out halfway through."

I lean back in my chair, considering.

Anthony is waiting.

I sigh, rolling my shoulders back. "Fine. But I pick the place."

Anthony chuckles. "Knew you'd say that."

I ignore him. "I'll send the details. We meet at eight."

"Looking forward to it," he says, far too entertained.

I hang up before he can say anything else.

For a moment, I just sit there, tapping my fingers against the desk.

I exhale slowly, before picking up my phone again.

I text Claire.

Me: Clear my schedule for the evening.

She responds instantly.

Claire: Business meeting?

Me: No. Just dinner.

Claire: Understood.

I stand, smoothing down the front of my blazer before walking to the window. The city stretches beneath me, a vast skyline of power and ambition.

My mind is stuck on something much smaller.

Something I shouldn't be thinking about.

Something, or someone, I keep telling myself I've stopped chasing.

I exhale, shaking the thought away.

This is business.