Chapter 12

Xander

What the hell is she doing here?

My eyes locked with a familiar pair of green ones across the room, narrowing instinctively.

“What? Who?” Mike, sitting beside me, turned toward the direction of my gaze. I hadn’t even realized I’d spoken out loud.

“Isn’t that your sexy little secretary?” he asked with a smirk.

I ignored him, eyes still fixed on her. She let her gaze linger for a moment—cool, indifferent—before turning back to her companion. Natasha, of course. Perfect.

“Stop staring,” I muttered to Mike, tearing my eyes away and taking a long sip of my drink. Her brushing me off like that—barely a glance—raked at my ego more than I cared to admit.

Mike and I usually came here to decompress after work. But tonight, her presence ruined the ease I craved.

I told myself I’d ignore her.

“Kidding me? I should be telling you that,” Mike scoffed. “I don’t blame you, though—she’s straight-up eye candy. Must be hard, huh?”

He patted my back like he pitied me. I shrugged it off.

“But hey, look on the bright side. You’ve got Yasmine.”

I glared at him. “Don’t start. You know how I feel about her.”

“She’s your fiancée,” he said, amused, lifting his glass.

“Not for long.”

That got his attention. He paused mid-sip, eyebrows raised.

“Barker’s got a grip on me with the shares he holds in Nowelle,” I continued. “But I’m working on a blueprint that’ll flip the game. New investors. Expansion. Once I’ve got enough weight behind me, I’ll buy out Barker’s stake—and end this farce of an engagement.”

He let out a low whistle. “Sounds like war.”

“She’s unbearable. Spoiled and manipulative. Having to work with her in the office makes it worse. If her dad hadn’t stepped in with the investment, I’d have kept her out.”

“Man... if she ever sees your secretary, she’s gonna lose her shit.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s her problem. And for the record, let’s not talk about Evelyn. She’s my employee. I’m her boss. That’s all.”

“Hm.” Mike tilted his head, grinning. “Wanna bet on that?”

“Fuck off.”

I looked back toward Evelyn’s table—empty. Only Natasha waved at me across the room. I gave a nod and rose from my seat.

“Restroom,” I told Mike, already walking.

As I approached the hallway to the bathrooms, the ladies’ room door swung open—and a petite woman crashed right into me.

Her small body hit mine, and instinctively, my hand wrapped around her waist—slim, impossibly so. She gripped my shirt slightly for balance.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t see you,” she breathed.

Her voice. Soft, a little husky. Familiar.

My eyes met hers, and I froze. Evelyn.

Why her?

Why did she feel exactly like the masked girl from the charity ball? Same curve of her frame. Same heat. My grip tightened slightly, pulling her in closer. She didn’t resist.

I stared. For the first time, I truly looked at her—at the freckles dotting her cheeks like constellations. I had the sudden urge to trace each one with my tongue.

And those lips...

Plump, parted slightly, as if inviting me. They looked sinful. Made for biting. For kissing. For silencing moans.

The tension spiked. Her chest brushed mine with every breath. I didn’t imagine it—her nipples hardened beneath her blouse. My hand still rested on her waist, and neither of us moved.

She blinked, clearly affected. Then she pulled away, smoothing her top and taking a half step back.

“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

My voice came out lower than usual. Rougher.

Silence. Thick. Charged.

She avoided my gaze. That irritated me.

“I didn’t know you were familiar with Long Island,” I said, coaxing her eyes back to mine.

“I’m not,” she replied. “Natasha is.”

“Didn’t know you two were close.”

“We’re not. Just colleagues.”

“Right.”

Another pause. Her eyes stayed on me this time—watchful. Expectant.

“I need to get back to my seat,” she said finally.

“I need to go to the restroom. See you tomorrow.”

She turned and walked away, and I let her go. But damn it, the scent of her lingered—clean, warm, intoxicating—and it followed me into the men’s room like a ghost.