Chapter 14 Rising tensions
Saturday.
I was supposed to be out of the city by now. The meeting was scheduled weeks ago....three hours north, a tedious negotiation that would have been concluded before lunch. Instead, I’m standing in my office, watching the long curve of the driveway that winds up from the gates.
My mind reminds me, quietly and insistently, that I’ve already sacrificed enough time for a pretty face and a hot body. That it's not an efficient use of resources. I straighten slightly, folding my arms across my chest as I stare through the tall glass windows.
Sacrifice is the wrong word, I don’t sacrifice...I choose. And choice implies control. The distinction between those two things matters.
Angela reached out to him, exactly as I instructed. A brief message asking whether Kaden would be available to come by and discuss his sudden decision regarding the contract.
He agreed.
The thought pulls faint amusement across my mouth. What I can’t quite decide is why. Whether he genuinely believes I won’t be here. Or whether some small, reckless part of him is hoping I will be.
My gaze drifts toward the clock on the wall. 10:57 a.m, he said eleven. Right on schedule, my eyes narrow slightly as movement appears near the gates far below. A car rounds the bend in the driveway, sunlight glancing off a faded hood. The same sedan from yesterday.
The thing looks like it belongs in a scrapyard. I watch it climb the long curve of asphalt toward the building, engine humming faintly even from this distance. The car disappears beneath the overhang near the entrance. I remain where I am, arms still crossed, gaze steady on the place where it vanished.
He’s here to meet Angela, too bad she isn’t in today.
I walk over to my desk and settle into the chair, letting my fingers trace the smooth surface. The wood is pristine, perfectly polished. I know it’s clean....I always know. Still, the habit is too ingrained. My hand disappears into my pocket, and with the swift, practiced motion of a ritual I’ve repeated countless times, I squirt a dollop of sanitizer and rub it over my hands until they gleam.
Satisfied, I adjust the stack of files on the edge of the desk, half an inch off where it should be, and smooth the top one down. Then I wait, and I listen.
Footsteps echo down the hall. Kaden and my new P.A., Sylvie. She’s twenty-two. I’m not sure why I’ve kept her. Half the time she’s a frazzled mess, unpolished, doesn’t bend to the rhythm I demand. But she speaks her mind, doesn’t force a smile, keeps a respectful distance without needing instruction. There’s a kind of honesty there that irritates and intrigues me simultaneously.
A sharp knock interrupts my thoughts and I answer. Sylvie steps in first, a small frame in soft, practical clothing, hair pulled back in a careless bun, eyes sharp and unafraid. She glances back, a subtle urge in her gesture, and Kaden follows.
He enters like a coiled spring....compact, wound tight, violin case strapped across his back, every line of his body taut and restless. He scans the room quickly, probably hunting for Angela, and then the motion stops. His eyes land on me.
Sylvie clears her throat. “Can I get you two anything?”
“I’m good,” I say without looking up, my voice calm, but my eyes never leave him. “Please, excuse us.”
She nods once and shuts the door behind her. Kaden doesn’t move an inch. I tilt my head slightly, letting my gaze linger on him. “Morning, Kaden,” I say smoothly, gesturing to a chair near my desk.
“I’m good,” he mutters stiffly, clearly trying to hold himself together.
I rise and begin to circle the desk slowly, letting my presence occupy the space. I settle on the edge of the desk, legs crossed at the ankle, eyes tracing him like I’m taking inventory. Finally, his voice breaks the silence. “Where’s Angela? She said to meet here.”
I glance at him, lips curving subtly. “She’s.... otherwise engaged at the moment.” My tone is smooth, but there’s weight behind the words. He can feel it. The air between us tightens, charged and dangerous. I lean back slightly, letting him stew in it. The room is large, but every sharp inhale, every slight twitch of his shoulder, carries across the distance between us.
“Otherwise engaged,” he says, voice tight with sarcasm. “Of course she is.”
“Naturally.”
He huffs, rolling his eyes, and I can almost hear the gears turning behind them. “So,” I drawl, letting the silence hang just long enough to taste it, “are you any good?”
He frowns, narrow and incredulous. “Excuse me?”
I gesture casually toward the violin strapped to his back. “That,” I say, “do you actually know how to make it sing?”
He leans back slightly, tilting the case. “No, I just carry it around to make people think I’m talented. It’s very effective.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. There’s a rhythm to him, a sharpness I like, but goddamn, it irritates me in the best way.
“What exactly am I supposed to do here?” His voice carries a mixture of frustration and wary caution. “I told Angela I want out. Are there papers I need to sign, forms to fill, ceremonial handshakes?”
I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, a low, tsking sound. “About that...”
His eyes narrow. “Don’t play your games with me.”
“I heard you asked for a copy of the contract,” I say, voice smooth, almost conversational. “You should go through them carefully.” I let that settle for a beat, letting the weight of it land.
“The agreement is already active,” I continue. “We’d need at least a two-week notice period.”
He blinks, incredulous. “Consider this my two-week notice, then.”
I arch a brow, the corner of my mouth lifting. “We were set to start the campaign on Monday. Pulling out now, you’d set us back. Lead to losses.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
I shrug. “In that case, I hope you have a good lawyer. You’ll need one.” My eyes pin him sharply.
His jaw tightens. “The hell are you talking about?” His voice flares, the calm facade cracking just enough to show the heat underneath.
“I’d be suing you for losses,” I reply evenly.
His expression cracks. Shock, disbelief, a flicker of something raw and primal.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“On the contrary,” I say, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. “It would be very unwise, as a businessman, to let an opportunity to cash in slip by.” My tone is measured. “Expect a formal call before the day ends. Consider it standard procedure.”
His eyes narrow, his whole body coiled. I can practically feel the storm building in him, and it thrills me.....every flicker of fire, every sharp inhale.
“And is it also standard procedure to tell every new employee you can’t wait to cum on their faces?”
I tilt my head, a hint of amusement threading through my voice. “No,” I say, slow enough for it to sting. “That only applies to those I take a particularly keen interest in.” I let the pause stretch, letting the implication sink in. “So far.... there’s only been one.”