Millionaire Slips Out Of A Long Seminar, Unaware The Woman Who Joins Him Will Soon Earn His Heart
The Encounter on the Terrace
Braden Lockach hated corporate seminars almost as much as he hated being told what to do. Today, he was enduring both in the same suffocating hotel ballroom. He checked his Rolex for the third time in five minutes.
The panelists were still droning on about quarterly synergy and projected growth. His jaw clenched. He could be closing a deal in Berlin right now or flying to Napa for the weekend.
But no, his CFO insisted he show face at the West Coast Innovation Summit. Braden didn’t do well with being caged. He slipped his phone into his blazer pocket and stood abruptly.
He ignored the looks from the other executives seated around him. Without a word, he strode out the back of the room. He passed the board interns and half-dead potted palms.
He pushed through the exit doors into the sunlit terrace overlooking the ocean. The air hit him like a reset button. Salty, warm, and alive, he exhaled and leaned against the stone railing.
He was finally breathing like a human again. His tie came off in one swift tug. He shoved it into his pocket and loosened the top buttons of his shirt.
“Skipping out on the corporate sermon, too?”
The voice came from behind him, female, dry, and amused. He turned. She wore a navy jumpsuit, her hair in a messy bun, and oversized sunglasses perched on her head.
She was not the type you usually saw at these events—not in the ballroom, anyway. She held a half-full champagne flute and leaned casually against the opposite side of the railing.
They stood like they were old friends. Braden raised an eyebrow.
“Guilty. You?”
She grinned.
“I made it halfway through the second panel before I realized I valued my brain cells too much.”
He chuckled.
“You’re clearly the smartest person here.”
“Obviously.”
She took a sip of champagne.
“I’m Kiara Vance. I was supposed to network with some investors, but I think I’d rather jump into the ocean.”
“Braden,” he offered his hand. “Braden Lockach.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly.
“The Lock Group, in the flesh? Well,” she said, shaking his hand. “That explains the watch.”
He laughed again, surprised by how easy it felt with her. There was no fawning and no fake interest. She wasn’t trying to pitch him a startup or flirt for an invite.
She was just there, real.
“Let me guess,” he said. “You’re not one of those people in there who thinks saying ‘disruptive’ every five minutes makes them sound smart?”
“God, no.”
She made a face.
“I build educational apps for kids with learning differences. It’s not exactly a unicorn startup, but it helps people.”
That pulled him up short.
“You’re a developer, designer, and project lead?”
“I wear a lot of hats.”
He studied her. She didn’t look like any developer he’d worked with, but there was something sharp in her eyes. It was something that said she didn’t bluff.
“That’s impressive,” he said.
“Honestly,” she shrugged. “I’m just trying to get funding to scale. But I’m terrible at schmoozing, so I’m hiding out here until my social battery recharges.”
Braden tilted his head.
“I could help you with that.”
She gave him a look.
“With my social battery?”
“With the funding.”
He leaned on the railing again.
“I know people. Or well, I am people.”
Kiara laughed, but there was something guarded in her expression.
“Now you don’t even know if my product works.”
“Then show me.”
Her eyes narrowed with interest.
“You’re serious?”
“Completely.”
She hesitated, studying him.
“Fine. But only if you promise not to invest just because you’re trying to impress me.”
Braden grinned.
“I already know I can’t impress you.”
She smiled, pleased.
“All right, Mr. Lockach, you’ve got a deal.”
They stayed out there longer than either of them planned. The sun slid lower, casting golden light over the terrace. He told her about hating prep school.
He explained how he built his first company out of sheer spite to prove his father wrong. She told him about her younger brother who had dyslexia.
He had struggled through school because no one had the right tools to help him. When the hotel staff finally came to reset, they realized they’d missed half the summit.
Braden didn’t care.
“Can I take you somewhere tonight?” he asked.
He watched her brush windblown strands of hair from her face.
“Somewhere that doesn’t serve three-bite canapes and awkward handshakes.”
Kiara tilted her head.
“You’re asking me on a date?”
“I’m asking you to let me buy you dinner, a real one. No small talk, no business cards.”
She looked at him for a long moment. Then she smiled again, softer this time.
“Okay, but I pick the place.”
“Deal.”
She picked a tiny Italian place tucked into the cliffs with flickering candles and no dress code. The waiter knew her by name and brought them homemade bread without asking.
They shared wine and laughed until their cheeks hurt. She ordered too much pasta and he didn’t stop her.
He told her how most women only saw the dollar signs but never looked past them. She told him how she hated being underestimated in boardrooms filled with men.
They only noticed her when she poured the coffee.
“It’s exhausting,” she said, swirling her wine. “Trying to prove you belong in a world that wasn’t built for you.”
Braden leaned across the table.
“Then maybe the world needs to change.”
She blinked at him, caught off guard. He didn’t look away.
