And that’s when I know.
Something is wrong.
Maybe he’s got cold feet. Or perhaps it’s as simple as the fact he’s an asshole, and this is just what he does.
After that, the session blurs. I go through the motions, my body present, my mind miles away.
When I eventually get back to my desk, everyone has already left for the day. I’m not in the mood to fight the rush hour mayhem on the subway. I guess I’d gotten used to Albert driving me and Chase to either his or mine every evening.
The silence stretches, pressing in.
Anxiety creeps in, threading doubt through my mind. Was I naïve to think there was more between me and Chase? Buthewas the one pushing for more, even when I had doubts. Lately, we’d almost become inseparable. I stare at my laptop for a long moment before, on impulse, I open a new tab and pull up job listings.
I don’t overthink it. I don’t let myself hesitate. I tweak my résumé, attach it to an email, and hit send.
Just in case.
Because even if everything was perfect, like I thought it was, it makes sense to separate our work lives.
When I glance at the time, I’m surprised at how late it’s gotten. I’m about to shut down my laptop when another meeting request appears on the edge of my screen from Austen’s office—Tomorrow 9:00 a.m. Project Review: Austen Wells.
I can’t see if there are other attendees, as the list has been labeled as confidential. A thread of worry creeps in, but I pushit aside. Most likely, it’s a tech issue related to the Monarch rollout. I power down and grab my jacket, grateful that at least the subway won’t be unbearable.
Even though the sky has darkened, gray clouds are still visible, hovering with the threat of rain as I make the short walk home from the subway.
As soon as my apartment comes into view, so does the unmistakable outline of Albert’s black limousine stationed at the front. My stomach clenches. When I get closer, Albert steps out, his broad smile as polished as ever, but a flicker of uncertainty lingers in his eyes. “Good evening, Miss. Violet,” he says in his warm tone that instantly disarms me.
“Albert. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Mr. Knight requested that I drive you to his apartment.”
“He did?” Despite the mixed signals recently, my pathetic heart sprouts wings and flutters. Maybe everything is all in my mind after all. Even so, pride has me holding back. “We didn’t make plans. This is news to me, Albert.” I pull out my phone to check, and there’s nothing.
Albert clears his throat, his usual unshakeable composure ruffled. “If you’d rather I leave, that’s fine. But I get the impression he really wants to see you.”
“It’s fine,” I say, taking pity on him. “I’m sure you’ve got better things to do, Albert, than ferry my ass about all evening.” Albert is far too polite to agree. Nevertheless, he visibly relaxes as he opens the car door, and I slide in.
By the time Albert is pulling up in front of Chase’s steel fortress in the billionaire’s playground of Central Park South, mystomach is twisted in knots. Today and this week has been a tiny reminder of the Chase I used to despise. Cold. Untouchable. And liable to sell his soul if the price is right.
Albert opens the car door for me, smiling as I hop out.
“Thank you, Albert.” I smile back. “If I were you, I’d put your phone on mute and enjoy the rest of your evening.”
He chuckles, tipping his head as I head toward the building.
The glass doors glide open, swallowing me into a world that still seems a little surreal. I’ve been here before, but the scale always gets me—the polished marble floors, the vaulted ceilings that echo every step of my heels, the soft lighting that glows like candlelight over rich wood paneling and towering floral arrangements.
The concierge buzzes me through with a polite nod, and I step into the elevator. It glides upward like it’s floating, smooth and silent. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I haven’t been here before.
I smooth my hair down before I press the buzzer. My heart lurches when the door swings open.
Chase looks fresh out of the shower, wearing nothing but gray sweatpants riding dangerously low, just enough to expose that V that should honestly be illegal. Droplets of water glisten on his shoulders, the scent of his shower gel still clinging to his skin, warm and masculine and far too inviting.
I barely get a word out before he pulls me into his arms, backing me against the door as it clicks shut behind us.
“My Violet,” he breathes, fingers brushing over my lips like he’s not sure I’m real. There’s a trace of whiskey on his breath, his eyes tired, muted.
“Chase, is everything okay? You seem... tired.”
