The CEO Above My Desk (Mckenzie Shinabery) novel Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Violet

Walking into Ashcroft Industries feels like moving through water.

Everything is slower. Thicker. Heavier.

I’m exhausted. Hollowed out. Still numb in a way sleep didn’t fix and coffee won’t touch. My body is here, upright and functioning, but my mind is lagging

half a step behind, processing things it doesn’t have language for yet.

And yet-

I look… different.

I didn’t plan it. I didn’t choose it. I just put on what fit and left the house because the world doesn’t stop for grief or investigations or sleepless nights.

Emerald dress. Heels. Hair pulled back. Jacket over my shoulders.

Pulled together in a way that doesn’t match how I feel.

People notice.

It starts at the security desk-an extra beat before the guard waves me through. Then the lobby. Conversations dip. A laugh cuts off mid-syllable. I catch my

reflection in the glass and barely recognize myself.

Whispers follow.

They stop when I pass.

Camille walks beside me, chin high, daring anyone to say something. She doesn’t need to. The building already feels… off.

Like I’ve violated an unspoken rule.

I reach the desk and set my bag down, pulling up Rowan’s schedule automatically. Muscle memory. Survival instinct. Everything familiar I can cling to.

He arrives three minutes later.

As always.

Rowan stops at the desk without looking at me. I slide his schedule forward. Perfectly aligned. His coffee follows-black, no sugar, no foam, no mistakes.

Routine.

He reaches for both automatically.

Theo steps into his path just before he can move on. “Hey-before you disappear. Marketing needs a tweak on the west-side numbers. Five minutes.”

Rowan exhales, annoyed, but pauses.

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Chapter 18

That’s when Avery sweeps in.

She doesn’t look at me.

Not even a glance.

“Rowan,” she says brightly, slipping into his space. “I was thinking lunch across the street today. That new place? I can make reservations.”

“I’m busy,” Rowan replies flatly.

She laughs like he’s teasing. “You’re always busy.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’ll just have Violet handle it for us.”

She turns.

And freezes.

Her eyes flick over me slowly. The dress. The heels. The posture. The fact that I exist differently today.

Her mouth curls.

“Well,” she says, loud enough for half the lobby to hear, “someone looks confused about what building they’re in.”

Theo’s brows knit. Camille stiffens.

Avery tilts her head, eyes sharp. “I mean, no judgment, but this isn’t exactly a 1-800-escort kind of workplace.”

Silence detonates.

I don’t react right away.

I let it breathe.

Then I lift my eyes to her and smile.

Not sweet.

Measured.

“Is that what you think professionalism looks like?” I ask calmly. “Because if so, I’d ask for a refund.”

Theo snorts so hard he nearly chokes on his coffee.

Camille’s mouth actually falls open.

Avery flushes. “Excuse me?”

I lean back slightly in my chair. “You’re the one confusing proximity with qualification, Avery. Easy mistake. Common, even.”

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And that’s always a mistake.

The lobby doesn’t stay quiet for long.

It never does.

Ten minutes later, my screen flickers.

My stomach drops.

Rowan’s afternoon calendar-meetings I confirmed not an hour ago-has been altered. Blocks shifted. One erased entirely. Another doubled. A legal call overwritten with a blank space that shouldn’t exist.

I don’t breathe.

I don’t react.

I pull the access logs.

And there it is.

Avery Quinneth.

Camille leans in beside me, eyes scanning the screen. “She didn’t even try to be subtle.”

Theo mutters, “She never does.”

I don’t look up when Rowan reappears in the lobby.

I don’t need to.

I don’t need to.

Rowan looks at her like she’s already gone. “You’re done.”

Avery stares at him. “You can’t-”

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Chapter 18

“Pack your things,” he says. “Security will escort you.”

She collapses.

Actually collapses.

Knees buckling. Hands scrambling for the floor. A sob rips out of her chest, ugly and loud.

Rowan doesn’t react.

“Security,” he says calmly.

They arrive within seconds.

Avery screams as they lift her, clawing at the marble, mascara streaking down her face as she’s dragged away. “This isn’t fair! She shouldn’t even be here!”

The doors close behind her.

Silence slams down.

Rowan turns back to me.

Not soft.

Not kind.

But steady.

“Fix the calendar,” he says. “Then come to my office.”

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The CEO Above My Desk