Ivara waited until the afternoon to approach him.
Not because she was hesitant, but because timing mattered. Calder Voss did nothing impulsively. Any conversation with him had to be framed as deliberate, not reactive.
She found him in the study again.
The space had already begun to feel familiar in a way that unsettled her. Same desk. Same city view. Same quiet authority woven into the walls. Calder stood by the window, phone in hand, attention divided between the skyline and whatever he was reviewing.
He didn't look surprised when she entered.
"You adjusted my access yesterday," she said.
"Yes."
"I want to discuss it."
He turned then, slow and unhurried. "Sit."
She did, folding her hands loosely in her lap. She wasn't here to plead. She was here to negotiate.
"I understand the need for discretion," she said. "What I don't understand is unilateral limitation without notice."
Calder studied her for a moment, then nodded once. "Go on."
Encouragement. Not permission.
"I'm not asking for unrestricted movement," she continued. "I'm asking for predictability. A defined scope. If there are days I need to remain on the premises, I want advance notice."
"That assumes flexibility," he replied.
"It assumes respect."
A pause.
He moved to the desk and leaned against it, arms crossed loosely. "You have it."
"Then demonstrate it."
Calder considered her. This wasn't the stillness of dismissal. This was an evaluation.
"Very well," he said. "What are you proposing?"
She kept her expression neutral, even as a flicker of satisfaction moved through her. He was listening.
"Any restriction longer than half a day requires notice," she said. "And justification."
"Justification," he repeated.
"Within reason."
He nodded again. "Agreed."
The ease of it threw her.
"Agreed?" she asked.
"Yes."
She waited for the catch.
"You'll be informed when your schedule changes," he continued. "And the reason will be communicated."
Her shoulders eased by a fraction. "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
She almost smiled.
Then he added, "In return, your external engagements will be consolidated."
She stilled. "Consolidated how?"
"Approved meetings will occur on designated days only," he said calmly. "No ad hoc scheduling. No spontaneous travel."
"That wasn't part of the discussion."
"It's part of the balance."
She leaned forward. "You're trading one limitation for another."
"I'm trading uncertainty for efficiency."
"I lose flexibility."
"You gain clarity."
She frowned. "You just said—"
"I said I'd demonstrate respect," Calder interrupted gently. "Not surrender control."
There it was.
She leaned back slowly, recalibrating. She had won something. She could feel it. But the cost was beginning to surface.
"How many days?" she asked.
"Three per week," he replied. "The remaining four are reserved."
"For what?"
"For what's required."
That answer was deliberately vague.
"You're narrowing my world," she said.
"I'm organizing it."
"You're doing this because I pushed back."
"I'm doing this because you proved capable of negotiation," he said. "Which means you'll attempt it again."
Her lips pressed together. "So you're discouraging me."
"I'm structuring you."
The word sent an unwelcome shiver through her.
She stood. "This wasn't a fair trade."
Calder straightened. "It was."
She shook her head. "You let me think I'd won."
"You did win," he said evenly. "You gained notice. Transparency."
"And lost autonomy."
"You never had full autonomy," he replied. "Not after you signed."
The truth of it landed harder than she expected.
She turned toward the door, stopping just short of leaving. "This arrangement isn't sustainable."
"It is," Calder said. "Because you're adapting."
She faced him again. "You keep saying that like it's a compliment."
"It is," he said quietly. "Adaptation is survival."
She held his gaze, refusing to look away. "At some point, you'll run out of room to tighten."
A pause.
Then, softly, "No," he said. "At some point, you'll stop testing the perimeter."
Her chest tightened.
"I won't," she said.
Calder didn't argue. He didn't need to.
"We'll see."
She left the study with her jaw set, mind racing. She had gone in prepared. She had chosen her words carefully. She had anticipated resistance.
What she hadn't anticipated was how easily he'd let her speak.
Or how quickly he'd turned concession into containment.
That night, reviewing her calendar, she saw the changes already in place—clean blocks of time. Approved windows. Empty spaces where spontaneity used to live.
She had gained notice.
She had lost freedom.
The realization settled slowly, uncomfortably.
Negotiation hadn't failed because she was wrong.
It had failed because Calder Voss never negotiated to lose.
And next time, she suspected, the price would be higher.