Chapter 7: Elina’s Exceptional Performance

Elina’s POV

My gasp hung in the air, sharp and useless, as Isaac’s “Deal” sank into me like a stone. The club was still in my hands, slick with sweat, and my heart was pounding so hard I swore it would bust out of my chest.

200 yards? Five percent of Shield Tech—his whole company—riding on me?

I stared at the little white ball he nudged into place, and it was not just a ball anymore—it was everything he had built, teetering on my shaky grip.

Cold sweat trickled down my palms, sticking to the wood, and his cedar scent clung to my wrist from when he held me close, showing me how to swing. It was warm, steady, but it was not helping now—not one bit.

I’m no golfer. I’m an accountant—numbers, spreadsheets, ledgers—not some pro who can smack a ball 200 yards like it’s nothing.