Act Like You Love Me (Jessica) novel Chapter 152

Chapter 152

David’s POV

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The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long, golden streaks across the mahogany surface of my desk.

I leaned back, the leather creaking under me, and rubbed the bridge of my nose.

My afternoon had been swallowed by spreadsheets and security audits, but now, the screen in front of me held something far more complicated: Aaron’s schedule.

There it was, highlighted in a daunting red. An upcoming tournament in a few weeks.

The stadium would be packed, the cameras would be hunting for him, and the fans would be chanting a name that was currently thousands of miles away.

I knew I had to call his manager. I had to coordinate with the coach to find a substitute, someone to fill the void for the

season.

But Aaron wasn’t just a player; he was the soul of that team. Replacing him felt like trying to swap a vital organ for a piece of plastic.

I exhaled loudly, the sound echoing in the high-ceilinged office. The silence here was starting to feel heavy.

Needing a distraction, I stood up and strode toward the water dispenser in the corner.

I hadn’t taken two steps before my shoe caught on something small.

There was a faint clink against the hardwood.

I stepped back, looking down.

Nestled near the edge of a hand-woven rug was a ring. It was a simple, delicate fashion piece, the kind of thing a woman wears to feel put-together without being flashy.

I reached down and picked it up, twirling it between my thumb and forefinger.

Daphne.

She had been a complete surprise. When I’d pulled her into the car, I expected a frantic, rambling mess, the kind of person who falls apart when a plan goes sideways.

What I got was a woman who cleaned up into something breathtaking. That forest-green dress had been a revelation; it didn’t just hide her curves, it framed them.

She had that rare kind of build-athletic yet soft, the unmistakable result of those home Pilates sessions or light morning

runs.

A small smile tugged at the corner of my mouth as the memory of our meeting an hour ago flooded back.

Flash back.

The ride from the street had been quiet-an electric, charged silence that made the air in the Tesla feel thin. But the moment we’d stepped into the controlled environment of my office, the atmosphere shifted.

She sat on the edge of the leather chair, her fingers twisting together, her spine as straight as a rod.

“Your portfolio, Miss Moore,” I had said, leaning back and gesturing toward the laptop bag she clutched like a shield.

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Chapter 152

She’d handed over a tablet, her hands trembling just enough to be noticed.

As I swiped through her files, the silence in the room became heavy.

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I could feel her eyes tracking my every blink, her breath hitched in her throat. She was a ball of nerves, a contrast to the sophisticated woman in the forest-green dress.

“This is… thorough,” I remarked, stopping on a page of complex backend architecture.

“Tell me, Daphne. If our primary node suffered a synchronized DDoS attack while the secondary was undergoing a firmware patch, how would you prevent a total system blackout without compromising user data?”

That was the spark.

She didn’t just answer; she erupted like a volcano under extreme pressure.

“I’d implement a staggered kill-switch on the non-essential APIs first,” she began, her voice gaining a sudden, confident edge.

“Then I’d reroute the traffic through a virtualized scrub-layer. You’re currently using a standard handshake protocol, but if you switched to a multi-layered biometric authentication during the spike, the latency would drop by forty percent…”

She went on, her hands starting to move as she described server architecture and encryption layers with a passion that made her eyes glow.

She spoke about code the way some people spoke about poetry

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