Chapter 188: Disaster In Heels

DAVID’S POV

I suddenly knew what Norman was up to.

This wasn’t about talent. This wasn’t about her brain or that snake-charming voice. Norman had plans. The kind of plans that started behind glass doors and ended in scandal.

“Why is she your assistant?” I asked, already regretting it. Every part of my brain screamed don’t go there, she’s not your business, but my mouth ignored protocol.

“Wasn’t there a position open for a receptionist?” I added.

Norman raised a brow, then grinned like a cat caught licking the cream.

“Nah, bro. Have you seen her? I mean like, really seen her?”

He leaned in slightly. “She’s smart. Sharp. A girl like that? She deserves to sit at the table with us.”

I scoffed. “Okay. Then why isn’t she my personal assistant? My brother brought her in after all.”

His grin didn’t fade. In fact, it widened.

“Holly, dear?” he called.

Dear?

He just called her dear?

“Yes, boss?” she answered sweetly, saccharine dripping from every syllable.

I wanted to wipe that smile off her face. Box her up. Ship her back to L.A. on a cargo plane.

Norman turned to her, cool as ever.

“Would you rather be my assistant or Dave’s?”

Of course she’d choose me, right? I’m the reason she’s in Chile in the first place. The—

“Of course you, Mr. Norman,” she chirped, practically singing.

Then she brushed past me.

Light as air.

Unbothered. Unshaken.

And somehow, completely in control.

She acted like I was invisible. Like I wasn’t the reason she was even in this building. Like I hadn’t—

My jaw tightened.

I leaned back on the table, arms crossed, trying to look casual. Normal. Unbothered.

But inside?

I was circling the drain.

I focused on a crack in the table’s polished surface and tried to slow my breathing.

She picked him.

Like it was nothing. And the funny part? I knew what she was doing. The little brat was putting on a show for me.

Norman chuckled, eating it up like she’d just offered him a standing ovation. “See? The girl’s got taste.”

He meant it as a joke, but I couldn’t even fake a smile. My mouth was a flat line. My eyes stuck on the way she perched beside him, legs crossed, posture perfect, that smug little smirk curving the corner of her mouth.

She was loving this.

She didn’t even need to look at me. Every move she made was a performance for me.

Norman was still talking—probably about how “brilliant” her impromptu pitch was, or how rare it was to find someone “with vision”—but his voice faded into static.

I couldn’t hear anything over the pounding in my head.

She picked him.

And honestly, it didn’t bother me.

Not in the way you'd think. Not in the petty, bruised ego kind of way.

This is Ava’s sister we're talking about.

The girl from the family I almost demolished without blinking. Collateral damage wrapped in lip gloss and ambition.

And now?

Now she’s here. In my company. Attached to my closest ally. Spinning her web with that sweet little smile like she’s doing us all a favor.

No, this wasn’t random.

This wasn’t some cute intern crush or harmless office drama.

I could see it—clear as glass. She’s trying to drive a wedge between Norman and me. Plant a slow, subtle crack. Make us question each other, compete, unravel.

Turn us into something fragile. Breakable.

Just like I almost turned her sister’s company into ash.

This isn’t about the job.

It’s about revenge. And I’m not letting her win.

And Norman?

Norman didn’t have a goddamn clue. He thought he had caught a big sexy fish.

He didn’t know what had happened between us. He didn’t know what she was capable of. He just saw a bright, eager assistant with a shiny resume and the kind of face that made men overlook red flags.

And he was insisting she stay.

“I’m serious, Dave,” Norman said, snapping me back to the room. “She’s staying as my assistant. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but I want to keep her close to the top floor. She’s got the edge. She asks the right questions. And if I’m going to mentor someone, it might as well be someone with teeth.”

I forced a tight nod, trying not to let the words with teeth trigger a full-blown outburst.

Holly, on the other hand, was glowing. Smiling like butter wouldn’t melt in her lying mouth.

“Oh, Mr. Norman, you’re too kind,” she said sweetly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked up at him through her lashes.

I nearly gagged.

She shifted on one foot and casually dropped her pen. When she bent to pick it up, her fingers brushed my shoe—light, deliberate. I pulled my foot back like she’d burned me.

She straightened, looked right at me, and whispered, “Oops.”

Oops.

I nearly flipped the damn table.

And Norman? Still clueless. Still grinning like he’d discovered fire.

I was about to speak…say something, anything…when Norman’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced down, sighed, then stood. “Shit. Singapore’s calling. Be right back. And Dave, take it easy on her. Don’t drill her so much.”

He walked out without a care in the world, the glass door swinging shut behind him.

The moment it clicked closed, Holly turned towards me—stretching like she was on vacation.

I turned as well.

My hands were already moving before I could think.

I reached out, grabbed her by the arm, and pulled her sharply to the side, pinning her to the wall, away from the glass, away from the table, away from anyone who might walk in.

Her breath caught slightly, but there was no fear in her eyes.

Only spark.

Amusement.

Victory. Madness.

I leaned in close, my voice a low growl.

“Now fucking listen to me, you crazy, spoiled brat—”

But I didn’t get to finish.

Because she did something I hadn’t predicted.

Something no sane person in her position would even consider doing.

She cut me off by crashing her lips against mine.

Full force. No warning. No hesitation.

Her mouth was warm, reckless, soft—but her teeth?

Her teeth found my lower lip and bit down. Not hard. Not enough to hurt.

Just enough to steal my breath.

Just enough to make me gasp.

And in that single gasp…she took the opportunity.

Slid her tongue past my shock, past my anger, past my better judgment.

I was frozen.

Eyes wide. Brain lagging behind the moment.

Where the hell did she learn to do that?

No—better question:

Why the hell was I letting her?

I shoved her away…rougher than I meant to.

She stumbled, heels scraping against the floor, nearly falling as her back hit the edge of the table.

She let out a soft “oof,” but that damn smile was still on her lips. Smudged and smug.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, then spat out onto the floor like the taste of her was poison.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snapped, every nerve in my body on fire. “You don’t just get to do that. You don’t get to use me like some game piece in your psychotic little revenge fantasy.”

She didn’t respond.

She just watched me. Calm. Glowing.

Like she hadn’t just assaulted my mouth and my sanity.

“You ever try that again,” I growled, “and I swear, you won’t walk back into this building.”

Still, no flinch.

No apology.

Just that expression—like I was reading her poetry instead of threatening her.

“If you’re staying in this company,” I went on, “you’ll avoid seeing me. You’ll avoid being in the same room as me. Don’t talk to me. Don’t look at me. Don’t—”

I paused because she was still smiling.

Like I was telling her I loved her.

Like I was whispering sweet nothings.

Like I hadn’t just listed the terms of her professional damnation.

And then?

Her phone rang.

Of course it did.

She pulled it casually from her back pocket and glanced at the screen.

“Are you serious?” I barked. “You want to take a call while I’m still—”

She held up a single finger.

A fucking finger.

And then she put the phone to her ear, her face turning slightly as she walked away.

I stood there, stunned.

Mouth open. Blood boiling. Heart pounding.

What the hell just happened?

Did she really—

Did she actually just shush me?