Bridgette’s POv
"Bridgette.” A low, raspy voice shook me out of my core, mercilessly dragging me back to reality. "I suppose you know you're staring at me like a prey you can't wait to hunt.” Rhysand said, making me ruffle my hands through my hair. "Bold of you to think that I'd even look in your way, Mr Rhysand.” I muttered in a barely audible voice, but from the look on his face, he heard my statement. “I'm still your boss, Bridgette.” He said firmly, his lips stretching into smirk. “ And I can fire you at my whim and want.” "You've said that so many times, Mr. CEO, and I'd be an idiot if I didn't know that cliche line of yours to the end.” I cut in, staring lazily at the document I picked up. "After this, I'll make sure the termination letter is what you get on that table of yours." He refuted, and I shrugged, getting up slowly. “If you're going to do that after this meeting, why don't I do it first? I'm quitting Mr. Rhysand.” I slammed the document in my hand on the table. Rhysand's brows furrowed, his cold demeanor faltering for a moment before a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're quitting?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief, though, his tone carried a hint of amusement. "Yes. I don't need to waste another second in this power-play circus of yours.” I shot back, leaning my weight on the desk. "I've got better things to do than deal with your inflated ego, Mr. Rhysand." His gaze darkened, and the playful smirk disappeared. "Better things to do? Like what, Bridgette? Find another boss to argue with? Or perhaps you're running from something else entirely?" I froze for a moment, his words cutting deeper than I expected. "Not that it's any of your business," I replied curtly, grabbing my bag. "But if anyone's running, it's you, hiding behind your CEO title like it makes you untouchable." Rhysand chuckled dryly, leaning back in his chair. "You're an interesting one, Bridgette. Always so quick to put up walls and throw punches. I wonder if you even know what you're really fighting for." "What I'm fighting for, Mr. Rhysand, is that your ego is too inflated to see that you're in the wrong here. If you're going to throw shades, do it respectfully and to the right people.” I sucked in a breath, keeping my eyes on him. “I work as I'm supposed to and I can proudly say that a significant amount of work in this company is directly from my end, so, however young I may be Mr. Rhys, accord me with the respect that I deserve.” Well, those were my final words before I slammed the door against his face. Finding a brown bench outside my office, I settled into it and took a deep breath. My feelings would overwhelm me soon if I couldn't get a hang of all these. I couldn't quit, I couldn't bear to, it was the only thing in my life that seemed productive. The thought of my mother getting married and the blurry memories of what happened in the past replayed tragically in my head. I shook my head to blink away the tears that formed in my eyes when I heard Jennie calling my name from a distance. "Miss Bridgette, the investors are here," She said, stepping closer. "Okay, I'll come right after you," I said as boldly as I could to avoid her seeing my situation. "Are you okay, Miss Bridgette? Do you need anything?" She asked, stepping closer. "No thank you, Jennie," I said, blinking back my tears as I stood up after her to the board room. The boardroom was alive with chatter when I entered. The investors sat on one side of the long glass table, their suits impeccable, their gazes sharp. Rhysand stood at the head, his commanding presence filling the room as he spoke with ease, effortlessly charming them. He barely glanced my way when I entered, but I could feel the weight of his awareness. Ignoring him, I squared my shoulders and took my seat, focusing on the stack of documents in front of me. The presentation was about to begin, and I had no intention of letting my earlier outburst affect my performance. "Ah, Miss Bridgette," Rhysand’s voice cut through the room, smooth and deliberate. "You’re just in time. Please walk us through the quarterly projections. After all, much of this success is a result of your... contributions." His tone dripped with sarcasm, but I refused to rise to the bait. Instead, I forced a professional smile, stood, and began my presentation. "As you can see from the data," I started, clicking through the slides, "our revenue growth this quarter is up by 17%, driven largely by the new product line’s successful launch. This was achieved through targeted marketing strategies and—" "Let’s not bore our investors with the technicalities, shall we?" Rhysand interrupted, his voice light but his eyes challenging. "Just give them the highlights." I clenched my jaw, keeping my composure. "Of course, Mr. Rhysand," I said, my voice even. "To summarize, the company’s current trajectory positions us to exceed our annual targets, ensuring significant returns on investment." A murmur of approval swept through the room, and I allowed myself a small moment of satisfaction. Rhysand said nothing further, but his gaze lingered on me as I returned to my seat. As the meeting progressed, I focused on the investors' questions, providing concise answers and deflecting any doubts with confidence. By the time it was over, I felt a sense of accomplishment, though the tension between Rhysand and me hung in the air like a storm waiting to break. When the investors left, Jennie approached me with a soft smile. "You were amazing, Miss Bridgette." She whispered. "Thank you," I replied, trying to ignore the burning sensation of Rhysand's stare from across the room. As I gathered my things to leave, his voice stopped me. "Bridgette, stay back for a moment." I sighed, already bracing myself for another round of whatever game he thought we were playing. But when I turned to face him, his expression was unreadable. "You did well today," he said simply, his voice softer than usual. For a moment, I didn’t know how to respond. "Thank you," I replied cautiously, not trusting the sudden shift in his tone. "Don’t get used to it," he added with a smirk, the momentary vulnerability vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "I'm just saying this because the investors were really happy with your ideas and demanded that I thank you for the idea.” He said gruffly. I rolled my eyes and walked out, determined not to let him get under my skin any more than he already had.Bridgette "I should be asking you the same question." A strong Italian voice echoed. Never in a million years would I have thought I would find myself in such a position, sandwiched between two devilishly handsome men with high testosterone, playing knights in shining armor. I winced, shifting slightly to accommodate my burning ankle, which was currently bearing the brunt of being jostled around by these two men. Not that they had any idea of my pain, and I admit that was partly my fault. If only I hadn't rushed out of Rhysand's car in a fit of anger. Then I wouldn't have stumbled against a rock and almost fallen face-first into a puddle of murky water. Luckily I had been saved from that frightening ordeal, and it just happened to be by none other than Paul Varlesk, also known as Mr. P. A popular record label manager known for his rich videos looking into the lives of artists, which was mostly a nice way of saying he made fun of them. I'd been so shocked when he'd saved me that
RhysandThe car ride was silent. Bridget had taken my offer to drive to the party, while Thorne rode in front, guiding us to the venue.Despite the joy I had felt when she'd taken my offer to go together, I was beginning to feel a sense of loss. Bridget wouldn't speak to me. She refused to acknowledge my presence and gave me no chance to bring up our earlier discussion.Currently, she sat with her eyes fixed on her phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Whenever I tried to broach the subject, she would ignore me or answer me with one-word sentences, giving me no chance to clear the air.The closer we got to our destination, the more panicked I felt. I couldn't brush aside the feeling that she was slipping away from me before she could even be mine.The opportunity to talk soon came when Thorne slowed down and turned into the hotel's parking space. I closely followed, purposely taking my time to find a good spot. Despite the valet sign offering to park, I waved him aside and
BridgetteThe meeting began without any problems thanks to the detailed work done by the staff. I ran through the plans for the contract, our part to be played, and what was expected of Clarkson and Co if they saw fit to take the project. By the time I was done, an hour had passed."And that's all for the project. I believe a collaboration between two giants, such as ARW and Clarkson and Co, will make waves for ages to come," I ended, then walked towards my seat."Thank you, Ms. Hayes, for that wonderful presentation," Rhysand said, holding my gaze for a few seconds longer than necessary before he turned towards Mr. Thorne. "Are there any questions you'd like to have answered, or would that be all?"Thorne leaned into his chair in silence, his eyes closed as though contemplating."Mr. Thorne, is there a problem?" Rhysand asked again, a hint of annoyance in his tone. "Did you not get the full gist, or would you like more time to think about it?"I frowned in disapproval at Rhysand's to
RhysandThorne Clarkson stood before us looking every bit as cocky as I remembered him, dressed in a flamboyant Armani blue suit, a white dress shirt, and a hat of the same color. He looked like a miniature version of his father, though a less smart and more watered-down version."Is now a good time?" he asked with a cocky smile, his eyes fluttering between me and Bridget before resting on our joined hands. "I don't want to interrupt anything. I can always come back."I scowled, my lips parted, ready to tell him to fuck off, when Bridgette snatched her arm away from my grip, her tone steady."Don't be ridiculous, Mr. Thorne," she said with a professional smile. "There's nothing more important than speaking with you. To what do we owe the honor?""Is that so?" Thorne drawled, his eyes darting towards me before looking back at Bridgette."Why are you here, Thorne?" I spat, willing him to disappear as quickly as he had arrived.Like his name suggested, Thorne had been a prickly thorn in
RHYSAND"Ms. Hayes is the exception. Always," I said, my tone sharper than I intended, and Rosa flinched.I didn't bother to apologize, ignoring the flicker of fear that crossed her face as she twisted her fingers tightly."I'm sorry, Mr. Rhysand, I… I didn't know… I thought—""I'm not paying you to think so deeply," I cut through her excuse coldly, letting my disappointment darken my words. "I thought you were smarter than this, Rosa. It appears I was wrong."She flinched under my brutal words, and her eyes grew red and wet as though she was about to cry, but the moment didn't come as she quickly closed her eyes and exhaled.When she looked up at me, gone were her impending tears, replaced with a determined look. "You are right, Mr. Rhysand. I didn't think. I assure you it won't happen again."I shook my head, secretly impressed by this new Rosa. Gone was the overtly crybaby that always managed to annoy me, replaced by a much stronger version of herself. I liked it."I really didn't
RhysandEvery once in a while, I am left speechless by my actions. Just like today, I had overslept.I, Rhysand Warner, had overslept, and no one had woken me up. The first thing I saw was sunlight bleeding past my curtains.Shit. I reached for my phone, and another expletive escaped my mouth. Past 9 a.m.I hadn't intended to stay up so late, much less talk to my father for more than five minutes, but last night had been different.For once, we hadn't argued about work or expectations. We'd sat by the pool, sipping aged scotch and talking about trivial things.My childhood, his. Old songs, and even a few stories about how he struggled to take care of me. Then he'd switched to Margaret, his love for her and how amazing she was. I couldn't remember the last time I had seen my father so emotional, so soft, like his marriage to Margaret had been the salvation he needed all along.Strangely, I was happy for him. Margaret was good for him, and I didn't regret the conversation. Not even as I