Just Before My Wedding: Trapped By My Ruthless Boss novel Chapter 7

Chapter 7

OCEANS.

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We had to leave DC for Manhattan immediately after my call with Reeves, because Ken called as soon as Reeves dropped the call to tell me one of our investors, Bowman, was about to pull out to join one of our rival companies.

That’s one thing I didn’t tolerate.

I didn’t think about DC on the flight back. I had Bowman’s report to read, three calls to make, and a situation to contain.

The Bowman situation had been straightforward enough to resolve by the time my car pulled into the parking lot.

I stepped out, buttoned my jacket, and walked into the building.

I had a desk full of work waiting, a meeting first thing tomorrow morning, and a contract that needed reviewing before midnight. The DC trip had cost me two days I didn’t have to spare, and I intended to recover them tonight.

That was why I’d called her back to the office.

Kisarel.

I instructed her to meet me immediately, even though it was already past five in the evening. But she was my PA now, and that came with a different set of expectations than the reception desk she’d spent three years behind.

So if I say she works until midnight, she fucking works until midnight.

….perhaps, a part of me wanted to make sure whatever happened between us in DC remained in DC…

At least, that’s what I told myself, if it would quiet down the voices in my head telling me what we did wasn’t just “nothing.”

The office was quiet when I walked in. Most of the floor had cleared out for the evening.

She was sitting at her desk.

Something settled in my chest the moment I saw her – some stupid, involuntary ease that I did not ask for and immediately resented. She was engrossed in her phone, completely unaware I’d walked in, her bottom lip caught between her teeth the way it got when something had her full attention.

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Chapter 7

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“This is office hours, Miss Harry. You shouldn’t be paying so much attention to your phone.”

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I didn’t look at her. I walked through into my office, dropped my briefcase, and went straight to the desk.

She quickly dropped the phone on her desk, gathered some files in her hands, and followed me immediately.

“I’m so sorry, Oceans… I…”

“It’s Mr. Stark from here on, Miss Harry.”

I said it without looking up. I was already moving through the files. The Bowmans‘ situation needed my attention before anything else. The desk was a disaster–papers out of sequence, folders stacked with no apparent logic and I felt the familiar tightening at the base of my skull that came with disorder.

–

The silence between us had a texture to it. I sensed her shock and hesitation, but I didn’t give two fucks.

“The next time I find my desk like this, you won’t have a job to come back to.” I looked up. “Are we clear?”

She flinched as I counted my words.

“Y… yes, sir.”

“Good.” I finally looked up to meet her gaze.

She was standing at the edge of the desk with the files clutched against her chest. Her hair was up in that ponytail with the bangs framing those ridiculous glasses she still had on despite what I’d told her in DC.

Her palm moved against the fabric of her dress – that nervous habit she had, wiping her hand against her hip when she didn’t know what to do with her body.

I knew that habit, even though I had no business knowing it.

I held my hand out. “The files.”

She blinked.

“The

the files on Mr. Frederick’s investments so far…” She swallowed, separating one from the stack with trembling fingers. “He’s been one of our biggest…” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she stopped, her jaw pulling tight, as she tried to pull herself back together.

Something behind my sternum did something I told it not to do.

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Chapter 7

Jesus sweet Christ.

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“Stop.” I slammed my palm flat on the desk and stood. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She flinched, taking a step back.

I looked at her, and something about the sight of her standing there, with her lip trembling, and her eyes red at the corners, did the opposite of what it should have done.

It made me angrier.

“Put the files down,” I said.

She set them on the edge of the desk carefully, like she was afraid of making a sound.

“Look at me.”

She looked up. Those eyes of hers were glassy and enormous, and I felt the muscle in my jaw pull tight.

“Whatever you think happened in DC…” I started.

“Mr. Stark, I…”

“I’m speaking.” My voice came out flat, and she went quiet immediately. I straightened to my full height and kept my eyes on hers because I needed her to hear this clearly, and I needed to say it clearly, and I needed us both to be on the same page before another second passed. “Whatever you think happened between us – it was one night. One lapse in judgment under a specific set of circumstances that neither of us was prepared for and that will not be repeated. I want to be very clear about that.”

She said nothing. Something moved behind her eyes, but she kept her face still.

“I am your employer. You are my employee. That is the full extent of what exists between us inside this building and outside of it. What happened in DC stays in DC – not as a secret, but because it was a mistake that has already been filed and moved past. By me.” I held her gaze. “I expect the same from you.”

She looked down and refused to meet my gaze. But I didn’t stop.

“The reason I called you back here tonight is that I have an investor situation that requires immediate attention, and you are my PA. That is why you are here. Not for any other reason.” I pulled the chair back and sat down. “If you cannot separate what happened personally from what is required of you professionally, then this arrangement is not going to work. And I do not have the time or the patience to manage your emotions on top of everything else on my desk tonight. Are we clear?”

Something went quiet behind her eyes when she lifted them to look at me.

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Chapter 7

“Crystal clear, Mr. Stark,” she said in a completely, almost unnervingly steady voice.

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I looked at her for a moment longer than I needed to, then I pulled the Frederick file toward me and opened it.

“Sit down,” I said, without looking up. “And take me through the figures from the top.”

***

It was past nine when she finally left.

I stayed at my desk. Poured two fingers of scotch from the cabinet behind me and sat with the glass without drinking it.

It’s been six years.

I had built four companies from the ground up, buried three competitors who thought they could outlast me, and closed every deal I had ever opened. I did not leave things unfinished. That is not a personality trait – it is the architecture of how I function.

But one woman steps in front of a bullet meant for me, hits the ground before I disappeared into the panicked crowd, and six years later, I am still no closer to finding her than I was the night it happened.

I didn’t even see her face. The only thing she left me was the smell of her hair for half a second before the chaos swallowed everything.

It took me just four seconds to take my jacket off and cover her with it. That much I managed. Her hair had fallen across her face, and I reached to move it – I desperately needed to see her face – but Reeves grabbed my arm and yanked me away from the scene because the shooter might still be around.

That should have been nothing. I fucking know that. She saved my life, and I should be grateful and move on.

Instead, it had become the only problem in my life I could not solve, which meant it had become, by considerable distance, my biggest obsession.

I don’t even know if she’s alive.

That’s the part that doesn’t leave me alone.

I went back two days later with half my security team. My jacket was gone, along with the custom–made wristwatch I had put in it. And so was the girl.

And no one in the vicinity knew anything, or if they did, they weren’t saying it to the men in suits asking questions with too much urgency. So, I had to take another route to look for her. A longer one, indeed.

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Chapter 7

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It had stopped making sense as a search years ago. I fucking knew that. My head of security had told me that it might be time to consider the possibility that she hadn’t survived.

That was also true. But what if she survived? I had to find out. I needed to.

I fucking owed that lady everything I had.

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“Will Miss Harry’s loyalty withstand Mr. Stark’s harsh expectations and icy demeanor, or will hidden emotions lead to an unforeseen confrontation?”

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