LOGINEvery nerve on edge. She straightens her shoulders, forcing control, even as her heart threatens to betray her. Fine. She doesn’t back down. . . When the presentation ends and the boardroom slowly empties, Jade finally exhales. It feels like she’s been holding her breath for an hour. Her palms are damp. Her fingers tremble slightly as she closes her laptop. The air still feels charged — thick with judgment, whispers, and the echo of Kain’s slow, deliberate applause. She doesn’t look at him. If she looks at him, she’ll feel it again. And she’s tired of feeling it. She stands, stacking the papers neatly, pretending she isn’t hyper-aware of every movement behind her. Then she feels it. That subtle shift in temperature. That familiar, dangerous warmth closing in. Him. Her breath stutters before she can stop it. Why am I still reacting to him like this? Why does my body remember him before my mind allows it? She almost laughs under her breath. Maybe he was never fully ou
“What’s that supposed to mean?” “You sheltered me. You’re engaged—temporarily—to Scarlett. Publicly. That makes us in-laws, right?” He considers, lips twitching with amusement. “In-laws… and friends. Family and friends. Family friends.” She dares a small, fleeting smile. Relief flickers. Until he adds, casual, lethal: “Temporary.” . . Her chest ached. Then the doors slide open, and the rest of the staff trickle in. Jade leans over to Kain, her voice low, sharp. “Over here. I’m Mia Cooper. We don’t know each other.” The group immediately splits, giving them space. Kain is greeted by the managers and shown to a seat. Jade’s chest tightens. Something’s… off. Why am I even worried? Pfft. He’s got nothing on her. He can’t have moved on this fast. Since they agreed to be “mutuals,” it feels like a crime to let her emotions slip…and the only way to resist the pull is if he backs out of the company. Everyone settles. Mocha shoots her a quick thumbs-up. Do well. The manager c
Before Jade can even get through the fifth page—her fingers still fumbling with the stack—the manager’s sharp voice cuts through the office. “VIP client is here. Hands on desks!” When was thirty minutes suddenly over? Mocha leans toward her, urgency flashing in her eyes. “You need to be in the boardroom now. The client just arrived. You’re project head—start moving, or you’re in trouble.” Jade’s breath catches. Her chest tightens, stomach twisting. Panic claws at her throat. “Move, Mia!” Mocha shouts, her voice sharp, almost desperate. Jade’s heart thunders. She grabs the papers, shoving them clumsily into her bag, fumbling at the strap. The VIP client is already moving through the hallway, imposing and confident, steps echoing. Jade picks up her pace, nearly stumbling over her heels. Her hands shake as she hustles forward, every nerve screaming, adrenaline pounding through her veins. She bursts into the boardroom, a gust of nerves and chaos trailing her. Her bag slip
“The picture is blurry because we haven’t zoomed in enough.” “Give her the card back,” Mocha says. “Or I’ll report you for harassment.” Clarice studies Jade one more time before finally handing the ID back. But she doesn’t let go immediately. She steps closer. Too close. Low enough that only Jade can hear, she whispers, “You’re lying. I can always tell.” Jade’s spine stiffens. Clarice’s smile widens slightly. “And I will find out who you really are.” Her voice drops further. “You took my position. I want it back.” The words are soft. Deadly. “You won’t be comfortable here for long.” She releases the card. Then, louder, sweet as poison, “Nice hair, Mia Cooper.” She lightly flips a strand of Jade’s hair between her fingers before walking away. The room exhales. Jade sits still, heart pounding so loudly she’s sure it’s visible. Her second chance just turned into a battlefield. And she’s not even sure whose game she’s playing. . . Mocha exhales the second Clarice walk
Her palms turn damp. There it is. Her past. She knew it wouldn’t stay buried. The manager clears his throat. “A smile would be appropriate.” They comply. Barely. At least her assigned team offers hesitant waves. “Hi,” one of them says gently. It steadies her enough to sit down. She lowers herself into the leather chair. And freezes. There’s a breakfast package waiting on her desk. Neatly wrapped. Expensive branding. A small folded card rests on top. You skipped breakfast :) — KW Her heart slams against her ribs so hard she thinks someone might hear it. No. He wouldn’t. Before she can grab it, a girl with bright copper braids and sharp eyeliner snatches the card from her hand. “Oooooh,” she sings. “Who is KW?” Heads turn instantly. “I don’t know,” Jade says too quickly. “It’s not mine.” Mocha—because that has to be her name—tilts her head. “Really? Because it’s sitting on your desk.” Someone lifts one of the cups. Tiny red hearts are printed around the rim. I
“Sorry. I just— I got excited.” His expression doesn’t change much. “It’s fine.” But his voice is lower. She looks back at the message, excitement fading into suspicion. “What if it’s a scam? What serious event company sends random job offers?” He takes the phone from her hand, fingers brushing hers briefly. He scrolls. “Where is it?” “What do you mean?” “It’s not here.” She steps closer, confused. He scrolls again. Nothing. “It was right there,” she insists. He hands the phone back slowly, watching her reaction. For a second, she forgets about the message. She’s too close. She notices the faint stubble on his perfect jaw. The way his dark eyes narrow when he’s thinking. The warmth radiating off him. He almost catches her staring. She looks away quickly. What in the world was wrong with her?! “It’s gone,” he says. “You sure you didn’t imagine it?” Her pulse spikes. “I didn’t imagine it.” “Then verify it. Search the company. If it’s real, go there before the position
Kain had pulled the truth out of her ,piece by piece. God. She had just dodged hell with Madeline. No. Focus. Breathe. Hold it together. He can’t know… not everything. It would only cause more trouble for her. He caught her wrist, pulling her close—protective, possessive, impossibl
Jade blinked. Once. “…The cock?” Kain froze. Actually froze. He blinked, the regret immediate and spectacular. He’d meant to ease the tension, not detonate it. But the word was already airborne, unretractable, and now she was staring at him like he’d just confessed to a felony. Silence
“Then defend yourself,” Kain said evenly, voice low, deliberate. “Congratulations,” he murmured. “You’ve just been given the job.” “…The job?” “Defend yourself well enough,” he stepped closer, shadowed eyes beneath the cap locking on hers, “and maybe you’ll keep it.” “…I got hurt too,” sh
“You see sparks and assume they’re yours to keep. That’s not bonding. That’s entitlement dressed up as depth.” For the first time, something real cracked through his confidence. **** “You think I don’t know the difference?” Kain asked, voice lower now. “I don’t invest like this casually.”







