She's chaos in lipstick. He's order in an Armani suit. They were never meant to mix - and now the office might burn. When Katerine Brown storms into Mason & Co as the new creative hire, her loud laugh and unapologetic flair clash with everything Sebastian Mason stands for. He's the CEO with a no-nonsense policy. She's the woman who doesn't know how to stay quiet. But as late-night meetings stretch longer, stolen glances turn bolder, and tension crackles between coffee breaks and deadlines, Sebastian starts breaking all his own rules - especially the one that says he can't fall for a woman like her. A woman who challenges him. A woman who makes him feel. A woman who refuses to lower her voice.
View MoreSebastian Mason didn’t do chaos.
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t miss deadlines. And he most certainly didn’t tolerate laughter echoing through the polished glass corridors of Mason Equity Group. Three months into his quiet return to the corporate world, things were finally back under control. The press had moved on. The investors had stopped asking about “the incident.” And most importantly, no one dared ask him personal questions anymore. Just the way he liked it. This company was supposed to be a lean, no-nonsense machine. Efficient. Professional. Predictable. Like him. Until HR walked in with her file. “We’ve filled the open creative position,” “You’ll love her energy.” Sebastian didn’t look up from his screen. “You know how I feel about euphemisms. ‘Energy’ means disruptive. Loud. Chaotic.” “It means talented,” the HR manager replied with a diplomatic smile. “And she’s already signed.” Sebastian's jaw tightened by a barely visible fraction. “You hired someone without my sign-off?” “Technically, you gave blanket approval for qualified applicants after we restructured the onboarding—” He raised one brow. She coughed. “You'll see what I mean.” And then she was gone. Sebastian tapped his pen against his desk, stared at the portfolio left in his inbox, and opened the first file. Slides. Too bold. Too bright. Too alive. He scrolled. Paused. Went back. Paused again. The designs were unconventional. Sharp. Colorful in a way that shouldn’t work for finance… but somehow did. And at the very end of the presentation: “Money talks. But design? It sings — K.B.” He stared at the screen for a full minute, unmoving. Then closed the file. And opened his calendar. He needed to know when this… K.B. was starting. --- Katherine Brown had never once been accused of blending in. From the moment she stepped off the elevator that Monday morning, in a red blazer over a graphic tee that said “Make it bold or go home”, she had already turned three heads and startled a fourth with her laugh. She was five minutes early. A personal record. She carried her laptop, a handful of neon sticky notes, and a can of soda labeled “Creative Juice.” She hated coffee. The receptionist looked up, clearly unsure whether to call security or HR. “Katherine Brown. New hire,” she beamed. “Creative team.” “Uh... third floor.” “Thank you! By the way, killer nails,” she added, pointing at the woman’s silver manicure. The receptionist blinked. Katherine winked and disappeared toward the elevator. --- The creative department was... smaller than she'd imagined. Sterile. Quiet. White walls, chrome chairs, and silence so dense she could hear the tick of her own heels. This place needs a heartbeat. But she was here. And after a rocky freelance run full of flaky clients and unpaid invoices, she wanted one thing: stability. Even if it meant working under a CEO who, according to the internet, hadn’t smiled since 2011. Sebastian Mason. She'd Googled him, of course. She wasn’t a monster. He looked like the kind of man who ironed his shoelaces. All jawline and silence. There were headlines from a year ago—boardroom drama, resignation, scandal. Then suddenly, poof. He reappeared, opened Mason Equity Group, and built it into a rising star of the private finance world. People called him disciplined. Private. Unshakable. Katherine was determined to shake him—just a little. --- He didn’t know she was in the building. Not yet. But when his assistant slid a note onto his desk—“Your 3 p.m. intro meeting: Katherine Brown. Creative.” —he exhaled slowly and prepared for impact. Just as the clock turned 2:58, he heard it. Laughter. High, bright, unapologetic. He looked up. And there she was. Red lips. Curls. Sticky notes in five shades of fluorescent chaos. A wild kind of confidence he hadn’t seen in years. Not in finance. Not in his company. She didn’t knock. Of course she didn’t. “Mr. Mason!” she grinned. “You’re real. Excellent.” She entered like the room belonged to her, set her things on the edge of his desk, and leaned forward with the kind of enthusiasm normally reserved for winning lotteries or free cake. He blinked. Slowly. “Miss Brown,” he said at last. “We usually knock.” “And miss that face you just made? No thanks.” She plopped into the chair across from him, crossed one leg over the other, and produced a bright pink folder from her bag. “Anyway, since I’m new, I thought I’d make it easy and give you ten reasons why I’m not a mistake. Unless you like surprises. Then I might be number eleven.” Sebastian stared. Not in annoyance. Not yet. Mostly... confusion. This woman wasn’t a hurricane. She was a symphony of color in a grayscale world. And he had no idea what to do with her. ---The morning sun spilled through the glass walls of Mason Equity’s temporary offices, throwing long stripes of light across the floor. Katherine stepped in, heels clicking a little too sharply against the polished surface, her bag tucked tightly under one arm. She had rehearsed her expression all the way here: neutral, focused, untouchable. The kind of face that told people she had not, in fact, nearly been caught kissing her CEO against the door of her office less than twenty-four hours ago.It lasted about thirty seconds.Sebastian was already there, leaning casually against the corner of her desk, flipping through the morning’s reports as though he had been waiting all along. Perfectly composed, cufflinks in place, shirt collar crisp, not a single trace of the chaos from yesterday clung to him. He looked like he had slept eight uninterrupted hours and woken up immune to scandal.Katherine dropped her bag a little harder than necessary onto the desk. “If Sophie tells anyone —”He did
The morning sun had just begun to slant through the tall glass walls of the office floor when Katherine pushed open her door, balancing her coffee in one hand and scrolling absently through her phone with the other. She was already running through the day’s agenda in her head — client calls, a board update, that endless supply chain briefing she wasn’t looking forward to — when she finally looked up.And stopped.Sebastian Mason was in her chair.Not across from her desk in one of the visitor seats. Not standing casually at the window. He was behind her desk, leaning back with the relaxed arrogance of someone who had already claimed the territory as his own. Her laptop was open, his papers spread across her blotter, and a Montblanc pen tapped lazily against the edge of her notebook — her notebook.Katherine blinked once, set her coffee down a little too sharply, and arched a brow. “Excuse me?”Sebastian didn’t immediately look up. He finished a line in his notes, then glanced at her o
The rooftop had fallen into that rare kind of silence — not empty, not heavy, but warm, steady. Katherine stood against the railing, wrapped in his jacket, her body melting into the solid line of his chest behind her. His lips had just brushed her temple, the faintest kiss, enough to unravel the last knot of tension she had carried all day.For a moment she thought that was it — the quiet ending to a long, bruising day. But then he didn’t move away. His mouth lingered against her skin, the warmth of his breath soft against the shell of her ear.Sebastian shifted, his lips tracing a slow, deliberate path from her temple down the curve of her cheek. The touch was unhurried but filled with intent, a steady pressure that left her breath catching. When he found the corner of her jaw, the kiss lingered, heavier now, and something in the air shifted.Her lungs betrayed her, pulling in sharp, uneven breaths. She turned in his arms, her eyes finding his in the dim rooftop light. For one suspen
The elevator doors slid open with a low chime, spilling them into the still-silent top floor.The space was nothing like the polished Mason Equity offices she knew — no sleek conference tables, no glass partitions, no polished chrome nameplates. Just bare concrete underfoot, the faint echo of their steps, and walls still stripped down to white primer. Morning light streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the open expanse with gold, catching in the dust that hung in the air like glitter.Katherine took it in slowly, hands tucked into the pockets of her navy dress, her heels clicking against the floor. “Feels… unfinished,” she said with a little smirk.“Because it is.” Sebastian stepped out behind her, the click of his shoes more deliberate. He was in a dark charcoal suit with no tie, sleeves rolled just enough to give him an edge of informality — the only sign that this wasn’t a boardroom visit. In one hand, he carried a sleek leather folder, the kind she’d seen during h
The office was quiet. Too quiet.The kind of silence that seeps into your bones, heavy and still, like the world had exhaled and forgot to breathe again.Los Angeles glimmered beyond the tall windows — the lights blurred through the glass, like a city trying to dance its way into her line of sight. But inside, the room was frozen. Just her. And a desk lamp that flickered like it, too, was tired.Katherine stood by the window with her phone in hand. She wasn’t pacing. Not this time. Her heels were off, tossed beside the chair. Her blazer lay across the armrest, forgotten hours ago. The blue light of the screen made her look pale, and far too vulnerable for someone who had closed five major deals this week alone.But none of that mattered now.She stared at the screen, thumb hovering above his name.Sebastian MasonShe hadn’t texted him since landing. Not even a check-in. It was stupid, maybe. Immature even. But something about stepping into this office again, alone, after the weekend t
The first thing Katherine noticed was the light.Soft, golden, and filtered through linen curtains, it spilled across the bed like a whispered invitation to wake up gently. Her eyes blinked open, slow and heavy, her body still wrapped in the warmth of cotton sheets — and him. Or rather, the absence of him.She reached across the mattress, but the other side was cool.Empty.Then came the second thing — silence. Not the kind that felt lonely, but the kind that held the aftertaste of laughter, music, clinking glasses, and echoing footsteps. Her birthday. Her friends. Her people. Her noise.She sat up slowly. The sheets slipped from her shoulder as she exhaled, eyes drifting across the room.On the floor — her heels, tipped over like they’d danced too long.On the chair — the sleek dress she’d sworn she wouldn’t cry in.On the nightstand — a glass, faintly kissed with her signature red lipstick.And on the edge of the bed — a ribbon from one of the gifts.Still curled. Still glowing.She
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