Chapter 34

BRANDON 

The sun was already beginning to dip low, casting long shadows across the pavement as I leaned against the hood of my car, arms crossed, waiting.

The building behind me hummed with the last rush of employees heading out for the day. Some left in pairs, chattering about dinner plans and delayed projects; others moved quickly, eager to get home. But I wasn’t in a rush. Not tonight.

I’d finished up everything I needed to hours ago, but I’d told Freya I’d wait for her. She had one last check-in with the finance team, and given how numbers made her sigh like she was preparing for war, I figured she deserved the company afterward. Or, at the very least, someone to hand her a cold drink and let her vent about budget reports.

I tapped the hood lightly with my fingers, watching the building’s glass entrance. That’s when I spotted him.

Bryan.

He stood by his car parked a little further down the lot, arms rigid at his sides, eyes locked on the building like he was waiting for someone too. Someone specific.

I narrowed my eyes.

His posture was tense—too tense. Like a spring wound too tightly. Even from a distance, I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, his shoulders hunched in an oddly defensive way.

And then he noticed me.

Our eyes met across the lot.

At first, he didn’t move. Just stared. But then, like a switch had flipped inside him, he turned abruptly, got into his car, and pulled out without so much as a second glance. His tires squealed a bit as he sped off—not enough to be reckless, but enough to leave a sour taste in my mouth.

I stood up straight, still watching the spot where his car had just been.

What the hell was he doing?

If I hadn’t shown up... would he have stayed? Waited longer?

And more importantly—was he waiting for Freya?

The thought made my blood heat, a dangerous coil of protectiveness tightening in my gut. After what he’d tried to pull at the dinner party, I wouldn’t put anything past him. That man had proven he had no regard for boundaries—or consequences.

But I couldn’t bring it up to Freya. Not yet.

She was just beginning to find her footing, to settle into the role she never expected to fill but was handling better than half the board already. The last thing I wanted was to throw more paranoia into her already full plate.

So I pushed the image of Bryan's brooding silhouette to the back of my mind as the glass doors finally slid open and Freya stepped out, tucking a folder under her arm.

She looked tired, but still beautiful in that unintentional way of hers—hair loosely pinned back, a few strands framing her face, blouse slightly creased from a long day. Her eyes lit up when she spotted me.

“There’s my ride,” she called out with a small smile.

I chuckled. “You’re lucky your chauffeur is tall, handsome, and doesn’t charge by the minute.”

“Must be my lucky day.” She slid into the passenger seat as I opened the door for her, and I rounded the car to the driver’s side.

Once we were on the road, I glanced at her. “How was finance?”

She let out a long breath, the kind that said don’t get me started. “They asked me if I knew the difference between net profit and gross margin like I haven’t been reading their damn glossary for the past three nights.”

I laughed. “You should’ve said, ‘No, but my assistant does, and she’s terrifying.’”

“I was tempted.” She turned to me, her smile more genuine now. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Always,” I said simply. “I didn’t want you walking out alone.”

She tilted her head, catching the slight edge in my tone. “Everything okay?”

I hesitated. For a moment, I debated telling her. That Bryan had been there, lingering like a shadow, until he saw me.

But then she reached over and rested her hand on mine.

Her touch was soft, steady. Reassuring.

And I realized… she didn’t need to know. Not unless it became something more. Right now, she deserved peace. She deserved to feel safe without constantly looking over her shoulder.

So I gave her hand a light squeeze. “Everything’s fine. Just... long day.”

She didn’t press. Instead, she leaned her head back against the seat, letting the city lights wash over her face as we passed street after street. I could tell she was trying to unwind, to let go of the tension she’d carried out of the building.

“You’re getting better at it,” I said, breaking the silence.

“At what?”

“This whole ‘corporate queen’ thing. I saw the way you handled that guy from logistics earlier. You barely blinked when he tried to mansplain projections.”

“I nearly threw my coffee at him.”

I smirked. “But you didn’t. That’s growth.”

She rolled her eyes, but I caught the slight blush on her cheeks. “I don’t want to just survive there, Brandon. I want to prove that I belong.”

“You already do.”

“Not to them.”

“Then forget them,” I said, a little too sharply. “You belong because you work for it. You care. And I’ll make damn sure they see that—whether they want to or not.”

She went quiet, and for a few moments, the only sound in the car was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional car horn in the distance.

Then she said softly, “Sometimes I wonder if this is all too much.”

I looked over at her, my jaw tightening.

“You don’t have to do this, Freya. You know that, right? You don’t have to prove anything to anyone. You’re not alone in this.”

“I know,” she murmured, “but I want to. For you. For me.”

I reached over and brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers linger just a moment too long.

“You’ve already proven more than I ever asked for,” I whispered.

Her eyes met mine, wide and steady. And just for a second, the world slowed.

When we finally pulled up in front of the house, she didn’t move right away.

“I think I might sleep for two days straight,” she said, half-joking.

“You’ve earned it.” I cut the engine. “But unfortunately, we have a board meeting in the morning.”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

I chuckled and stepped out of the car, circling around to open her door. As she slid out, I caught her hand again.

And I made a silent promise to myself.

Whatever game Bryan thought he was playing—whether tonight in the parking lot had been coincidence or something darker—it ended here. He’d his chance. He’d made his mistake.

And I was watching now.

Very closely.