The conference room was already alive with low chatter and the faint clink of coffee cups when Xander stepped inside, his tall frame carrying that unshakable air of command. Erin trailed one step behind, clutching her notepad like a lifeline. She felt the shift in the room immediately—the subtle way voices dropped, eyes flicked toward them, and backs straightened.
They took their seats at the head of the table. Xander didn't waste time with small talk. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the polished wood, fingers interlaced in a way that made it clear he had something decisive to say.
"I have an announcement." His voice, calm but edged with authority, sliced through the last scraps of conversation. "For the upcoming launch of our new eco-friendly water heater, Erin will be leading the presentation at the product release."
For a heartbeat, there was silence—a suspended moment where no one seemed to breathe. Then, like a dam breaking, the protests came.
"Mr. Volkov, with all due respect," began John Fletcher, the senior engineer with a silver beard and a reputation for being blunt, "she's been here less than a month. This is too high-profile for someone with no experience in our product launches."
"I agree," Clara Wentworth said from the far end of the table, her tone clipped, each word deliberate. She adjusted her glasses and gave Erin a look that wasn't unkind, but wasn't warm either. "We've got people who've worked on this project from day one. They should be the ones representing it, not… an assistant."
The word "assistant" landed like a pin dropped in a silent hall—pointed and meant to sting. Erin kept her face neutral, but her heartbeat was pounding hard enough that she swore someone could hear it.
"Experience matters," added Victor Moreau, head of operations, his voice deep and measured. "The release is too important to risk on someone new. The media will be there. Investors. One wrong step could—"
Xander cut him off with a slow lift of his hand, his expression unreadable. "Are you all finished?"
The question was soft, but it carried the weight of a warning. The murmurs died instantly. His gaze swept across the table, lingering on each dissenting face just long enough to make them look away.
"Erin was the one who suggested the improvements that gave us the edge over our competitor's release," he said, his voice steady but threaded with steel. "She understands the product, the strategy, and the audience better than anyone here. This isn't up for debate. This is my decision, and it's final."
A heavy stillness settled over the room. John shifted uncomfortably, Clara pressed her lips into a thin line, and Victor leaned back, eyes flicking toward the table as if studying the grain in the wood.
Erin sat perfectly straight, her hands folded in her lap under the table, because if she didn't keep them still, someone might see them tremble. Inside, though, there was a strange collision of emotions—honor, anxiety, the sharp burn of being underestimated, and the equally sharp rush of being trusted with something monumental.
She felt every skeptical glance that followed, but she also felt a flicker of something she hadn't expected: determination.
Xander moved on to the next agenda item as though the confrontation had never happened, his voice even, his focus forward. But Erin knew the ripples of his announcement were still moving through the room—subtle, but powerful, and aimed directly at her.
---
The moment the conference wrapped up and the cameras were packed away, Xander's hand found the small of Erin's back, guiding her toward the side exit.
They slipped into a quieter hallway, the muffled hum of voices fading behind them. She let out a slow breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"You did well," he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
Her lips curved in a nervous smile. "I felt like my heart was about to leap out of my chest the whole time."
Xander stopped walking, turning just enough to meet her eyes. "That's normal. But you handled it. Better than most would." His gaze lingered on her a moment longer, softer now. "You don't have to be perfect, Erin. Just… be you."
Her chest tightened, both from the reassurance and the way he said her name. "That's what scares me," she admitted quietly.
He tilted his head, studying her as though he could read all the words she didn't say. Then his hand brushed lightly against hers, a fleeting contact that sent a shiver up her arm.
"You'll be fine," he said, and there was no trace of doubt in his voice.
The echo of his touch lingered as they stepped back into the main hall—right into the storm neither of them knew was coming.