He isn't that bad

Anthena

I woke up to a familiar environment of my bedroom, but the comfort of it didn't lessen the crash from last night's indulgence. My head pounding, each a painful reminder of yesterday's ordeal. My mouth was dry, my throat raw as if lined with sandpaper, and my stomach was threatening rebellion.

The door creaked open, and Mandy stepped in, dressed for work with her brows furrowed. She perched on the edge of the bed, giving me a sad smile.

"I'm sorry, Anthena," she murmured, pressing her hand against my forehead. "I shouldn't have gone out without you."

I squeezed her hand. "It's fine, Mandy. I'm safe now." Mandy always felt responsible for me since I'd come to Oxford because of her. She took my wellbeing seriously, or maybe too seriously.

"So...the CEO brought me home, right?" I said, pressing my thumb on my pounding temple, hoping to chase the ache away.

She shook her head. "No, Lucian did."

I scoffed. Of course, it wasn't him. That was just a half-delirious fantasy. My boss would rather watch me drown than lend a hand. "Figures."

As I tried sitting up, the wall clock caught my eye. "What -?" I bolted upright. "I'm late!"

Mandy blinked, looking startled. "Just stay home today, Anthena. I'll explain to the CEO."

"No way. That man is a psycho. He'd fire me on the spot."

I rushed through my morning routine, hastily pulling on my work clothes before dashing out. Together, Mandy and I caught a taxi to the office since my car was still at the bar. When I arrived, my boss, thankfully, wasn't in his office yet, so I slipped into my own office, doing my best to keep the hangover at bay. I managed to sort through the morning's files, draft the schedule, and get everything in order.

A headline on my phone screen caught my attention just as I was scrolling to distract myself. My psychotic boss was making headlines—set to wed a beautiful woman whose picture was beside his. Talon Rashford. I raised an eyebrow. Well, the name did sound a bit ancient. I squinted at the headline again, disbelief prickling me. Married? Who would even agree to that?

It was almost laughable, imagining some poor woman spending her life tied to that man—cold and rude as hell. And she looked sweet, probably attracted by his good looks and wealth. I shook my head, pity gnawing at me. She deserves better.

The intercom rang, jolting me back to reality. Talon's gruff voice crackled through, the same commanding tone as ever. "Bring the Nexus file to Diamond Golf Club in fifteen minutes."

The line went dead before I could answer. Fifteen minutes. Anxiety shot through me. I'd barely finished gathering the file when I dashed out of the building, scanning the road for a taxi.

A black Benz pulled over, and the tinted window slid down to reveal a young man with a friendly smile. "Need a lift?"

"Yes, thank you." Without thinking twice, I got in, praying he wasn't some kind of creep. We sped towards the club, and the driver introduced himself.

"I'm Dan," he said with a small smile, his eyes focused on the road.

"Anthena," I forced a small smile, though I was in no mood for small talk. I could feel the minutes ticking down like a timer in the back of my mind.

The club loomed up ahead before I knew it. I muttered a quick "Thanks" as I leapt out of the car even before it came to a full halt, rushing inside and showing the receptionist my appointment. She directed me to the golf course, and as I approached, I spotted him—Talon, looking infuriatingly good in his golf gear, holding a club with an ease that spoke of power and control.

"He could have been the perfect man, if only he knew a thing or two about manners," my mind quipped.

He was laughing; I'd never seen him laugh before, nodding along as he spoke with another man—young, handsome, but not quite as striking. I moved closer, clutching the file tightly, wondering if he'd even acknowledge me.

Talon's eyes flicked up, locking on me, and he waved, playing the role of the polite boss. Good actor, I thought, biting back a sarcastic smile. He reached out a hand. "The file?"

I handed it over without a word, his eyes immediately locking onto the paperwork. The other man's gaze lingered on me, his interest evident and almost predatory. My skin prickled under his stare, and I shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to snap at him.

The man smirked, as if pleased with himself. "Mr. Talon, aren't you going to introduce me to your assistant?"

“She’s Anthena. Anthena Wellington," Talon muttered, barely looking up.

The man nodded, clearly not listening to Talon as his eyes roamed over me. "Anthena, right? Beautiful name for a beautiful woman. I'd love to meet up later tonight." He reached for his wallet, pulling a business card, holding it out to me with an expectant grin.

"Mr. Nathan." Talon's voice was suddenly sharp, carrying an edge I hadn't heard before. "Focus on the contract."

Nathan ignored him, his gaze fixed on me. "Fifty thousand dollars if you spend the night with me."

I stiffened, anger brewing inside me, ready to give him a piece of my mind. But Talon beat me to it. His voice dropped to a chilling level, his eyes darkening with a fury that surprised me.

"Watch your tone, Nathan."

For a moment, it was dead silent, an awkward tension hovering around them like a dark cloud. Then, to my utter shock, Talon ripped the file in half, letting the papers drift to the ground. "The contract is off," he said, his voice seething. "Tell your father I won't deal with men who lack respect."

“Wait—Talon, I’m sorry—” Nathan stammered, his arrogance crumbling to panic.

But Talon wasn't listening. "Evans," he called out to the assistant nearby. "We're done here."

I tried to intervene, my voice pleading, "Sir, you don't have to -"

But Talon was already moving, leading me briskly back toward the parking lot. I felt a strange sense of shock, almost unbelievable. Did he really just stand up for me?

Maybe he isn't that bad after all.

Nathan trailed behind us, desperate. "We can work this out, Talon. Please."

But Talon didn't look back. He opened the door of his Lamborghini, gesturing for me to get in, while Evans got into his own car.

Just as I slid into the passenger seat, his phone buzzed, and he glanced down at the screen. His expression shifted, going hard and unreadable. He started the engine, his jaw tense, eyes fixed forward.

"Buckle up," he said in a low tone. But something in his voice set my nerves on edge.

As we pulled out of the club, I dared to glance his way, watching him navigate the winding road in silence. Finally, I asked, "Sir, are you alright?"

He didn't respond, his grip tightening on the wheel, his eyes cold and distant. And then, so quietly I almost didn't hear it, he muttered, "You need to stay away from me, Anthena. For both our sakes."