The unexpected visitor

CHAPTER 7

The office was quieter than usual that afternoon.

Too quiet.

I kept glancing at the door, half-expecting someone to burst in with bad news or worse.

And then the elevator dinged.

I looked up.

Ivy.

Of course.

She didn’t knock. Just stepped in like she owned the place.

High heels clicking, hair perfect, smile sharp enough to cut glass.

“Reign,” she said. Her voice was smooth but not friendly.

He didn’t stand. Didn’t move. Just… watched her.

I shrank back, clutching my tablet like a shield.

“Good afternoon, Ivy,” he said finally. Controlled. Calm. But I could see the tension in his jaw.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything… important?” she said, glancing at me. Her eyes flicked past me, but I felt every second of her gaze.

I swallowed. My palms felt sweaty.

“You’re not interrupting,” Reign said. His voice was even, but the warning behind it was clear.

She smiled. That dangerous, knowing smile.

“You have a new assistant,” she said, turning to me. Her eyes scanned me like a judge.

“Yes,” Reign said. “Maya.”

I bowed my head slightly. “Hello.”

Ivy’s gaze lingered a second too long. “I see. You’ll do.”

I froze.

“You’ll do?”

Reign didn’t answer.

Ivy’s smile widened. “I like people who can handle themselves.”

I tried to nod. Tried to smile. My hands were sweating.

Reign stepped closer to me. Just a fraction. Protective.

“Ivy,” he said. “Let’s get down to business.”

“Business,” she repeated. Then she leaned against his desk. “Of course. But we all know there’s more than business happening here.”

I didn’t breathe.

He didn’t flinch. Not visibly. But the air between them… charged. Dangerous.

“Ivy,” he said again. Low. Controlled. “Stay on topic.”

She tilted her head. “Always so serious. Don’t you ever relax?”

“I do. Just not with you around,” he replied.

Her laugh was soft. Fake. Playful, but edged with something darker.

I realised she was testing him. Watching. Looking for cracks.

And he wasn’t giving her any.

I exhaled silently.

Then she turned her gaze on me again.

“You’re the new assistant?”

“Yes,” I said. “I am.”

“Bold,” she said. “Not many survive here without getting burnt.”

I swallowed. Burnt? That didn’t sound like a metaphor.

Reign cleared his throat. “Maya will handle the logistics. That’s all.”

Ivy tilted her head again. “Of course. Logistics. But don’t forget—Reign, people notice everything. Especially loyalty.”

I looked between them, heart hammering. Loyalty? She wasn’t talking to me, was she?

“Let’s move on,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Fine. But I’ll be watching.”

Then she left. Just like that. Her heels clicked as she disappeared down the hall.

I exhaled, feeling my knees go weak.

Reign watched her go.

Silent. Immovable. His hands in his pockets.

Then he turned to me.

“Stay close today,” he said.

I blinked. “Why?”

“Because Ivy doesn’t make mistakes. And she doesn’t forget who’s around her.”

My stomach tightened.

“I… understand.”

He studied me a second longer. His eyes unreadable.

“Good. Now… back to work.”

I nodded, but my mind wasn’t on work.

It was on him.

And her.

And the storm that had just walked into our office.

Ivy wasn’t just a problem.

She was a warning.

A threat.

And somehow… she was making Reign more dangerous than I’d ever seen.

I retreated to my desk, heart still racing.

Ivy had this way of leaving a trail behind her—a sense of unease, of sharp eyes watching even after she’d gone.

Reign returned to his own desk, sliding into his chair with that same controlled precision.

I watched him, trying not to stare, but noticing every small detail.

The way his shoulders stayed tense.

The way his fingers drummed lightly on the desktop.

The way his jaw flexed, hard and deliberate.

And yet, underneath it all, there was something… human. Vulnerable, even if he would never admit it.

I bit my lip.

The phone rang, cutting through the silence.

Reign answered immediately.

His voice shifted. Business mode. Cold. Controlled. Unreadable.

I recognised the name he mentioned. It wasn’t good.

He spoke for a few minutes. Short sentences. Orders. Warnings. Precautions.

Then he hung up.

His expression was unchanged—controlled—but I could feel the storm just beneath the surface.

Evan entered the office then, casual as ever, but his eyes were sharp. Concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asked me quietly.

“Yes,” I said too quickly.

He didn’t press. Just nodded. “Good. Keep an eye on him.”

I swallowed. That was more than a casual suggestion.

Reign motioned for me to follow him into the boardroom.

The meeting that had been scheduled seemed minor, but I could sense the tension before we even entered.

Ivy had stirred something. Something I couldn’t name.

She had been gone only a few minutes, but the air still felt electric.

When the board members arrived, their questions were pointed, sharp, and probing.

Reign answered each one. Controlled. Precise. But I could see it in his eyes—he was weary. Frustrated. The kind of frustration that didn’t show anger, but danger.

I tried to focus, to stay invisible, but my attention kept snapping back to him.

To the way his fingers tightened around his pen.

To the way his jaw worked beneath his sharp features.

To the tension coiled in his shoulders.

And I realised something.

I was already invested. Too invested.

When the meeting ended, everyone left except us.

Reign turned to me.

“Good work today. You kept your composure.”

“I… tried,” I said.

“You did more than that.” His voice softened. “You notice things others don’t. That matters.”

I nodded, but my heart was still hammering.

He walked past me toward his office. Then stopped.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

I watched him go, every step precise. My mind racing with thoughts about Ivy. About Reign. About the subtle danger in the room.

Then my phone buzzed.

A message. From an unknown number.

You don’t know me. But I think you should be careful around him.

I froze.

I didn’t reply. Couldn’t.

And somewhere deep inside, I knew—whatever Ivy started, whatever Reign was holding back, I was about to be dragged into something bigger than spreadsheets, charts, or daily tasks.

Something personal. Dangerous.

And there was no way to run.