Terms of Travel

The morning after our second date unfolded quietly. No extravagant gestures. No lingering glances over breakfast. Just a gentle tension in the air that wasn't entirely unpleasant. The kind of tension that came from knowing something between us had shifted—but not knowing what to do with it yet.

I sat at the long dining table, a plate of half-eaten toast beside my laptop and a steaming mug of espresso warming my palms. Blake had already left for an early meeting, his absence as loud as his presence had been last night. I hadn't expected him to say much this morning. We weren't that kind of couple.

But we were something. And maybe, for now, that was enough.

Sarah's voice chimed through my earpiece as she briefed me on the morning's schedule. "You've got ten minutes until the conference call with the marketing department. Then a logistics sync at eleven."

I glanced at the blinking tab on my screen. "Any word on the proposal review from Aldridge's team?"

"Yes. Blake mentioned he wants to go over it in person before sending it to the stakeholders. He asked to meet you in the boardroom at noon."

I exhaled slowly. "Fine."

"And one more thing," Sarah added. "There's talk about a potential site visit to the Las Veritas plant next week. Joint inspection, pre-launch PR coverage."

That caught my attention.

"Who's coordinating?" I asked.

"Joint effort. Aldridge PR and our communications team. Blake wants both of you to be there. Press will cover the story as a unified front."

Of course he does.

I didn't answer immediately. A business trip—overnight, undoubtedly—wasn't a casual matter, especially for a pair of married CEOs who barely spoke unless required. But the plant in Las Veritas was a critical piece of our merger strategy. Delaying the trip would send the wrong message.

"I'll review the itinerary after the call," I finally said.

"Yes, ma'am."

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of meetings and reports. When noon arrived, I found myself walking into the boardroom with carefully measured steps, already knowing he'd be waiting.

He was.

Blake stood by the window, dressed in a charcoal suit that was clearly custom and perfectly pressed. He turned when he heard me enter, his expression unreadable but not cold.

"Celine," he greeted, nodding once.

"Blake."

We didn't sit. Not yet. Instead, I placed my tablet on the conference table and crossed my arms.

"You wanted to discuss the proposal?"

He nodded. "I think it's solid. But I want us both aligned before we present it. No surprises."

"Agreed."

He motioned for me to sit, and we poured over the finer details for the next twenty minutes. Our conversation was sharp, professional. But somewhere between logistics forecasts and cost estimates, he slid in the topic I'd been expecting.

"The trip to Las Veritas," he said. "I know it's not ideal, but it matters."

I leaned back slightly. "Do we both need to go?"

His jaw twitched, almost like he was holding back a sigh. "It's not about necessity. It's about optics. Showing unity."

"And sleeping under the same roof?" I asked, my tone just dry enough.

He didn't flinch. "We can book two suites. Separate, of course. You'll have full privacy."

I stared at him for a moment. I appreciated the consideration, the control he exercised over not pushing too far too fast. It made me… uncomfortable, how thoughtful he was becoming.

"Fine," I said. "But I pick the hotel."

His lips lifted at the corner. "Deal."

We reviewed the tentative itinerary—plant inspection, media Q&A, dinner with the local investors. Everything tightly scheduled, tightly curated.

"I'll send Sarah my availability for the prep briefings," I added.

"I'll do the same with Oliver."

There was a beat of silence.

Then he looked at me—not as a CEO, not as a strategic partner, but as Blake. The man who had sent me four days of flowers and walked beside me under string lights.

"I meant it, you know," he said quietly. "About this not being a game. About wanting this to be real."

I didn't respond right away. Because I believed him.

And that belief was exactly why I was afraid.

"I'll see you at the shareholder dinner tonight," I said instead, rising to leave.

His nod was slow but accepting. "Celine?"

I paused at the door.

"I'll behave on the trip," he said, a glint of something playful in his voice. "Scout's honor."

I didn't turn around, but I knew he was smiling.

In my office, Sarah was already waiting with the final travel proposals.

"Bellview Resort has the best security and privacy," she said. "And their executive suites are on opposite wings of the building."

"Book it," I replied, scanning the rest. "And coordinate with Oliver."

As she left, I sat down at my desk and stared at the itinerary again. Five days in Las Veritas. Five days of pretending to be something more united than we were. Or maybe pretending less than we used to.

I wasn't sure which idea scared me more.

Because somewhere deep down, I wanted those days to mean something.

And that was dangerous.