Chapter 30: Miss Brown, You're Glowing

Friday morning.

The elevator dinged, and the usual wave of grey, black and navy-blue suits flooded onto the 29th floor of Mason Equity Group.

But one figure stood out.

Not because of volume, or wild gestures, or even one of her signature chaotic accessories.

No — this time it was the glow.

Katherine Brown entered the office dressed in a simple, cream-colored pantsuit that hugged her hips and swayed slightly as she walked. Her hair was tied back — still messy, but in that purposeful, editorial way that made it look like she'd just stepped out of a Vogue spread titled "Power Meets Rebellion." A thin silver bracelet with a tiny charm winked from her wrist, and her eyes held a spark that hadn't been there before.

People stared.

Silently. Openly. Confused.

Maddison Mason stood by the glass conference room, holding a black folder and a latte that clearly cost more than most rent. She narrowed her eyes.

Katherine smiled at her.

"Morning!" she sang, with a voice light as air — like nothing had happened. Like no one had been blackmailed, embarrassed, or publicly undressed with nothing more than colored Post-its and Wikipedia searches.

But oh, something had happened.

And everyone felt it.

Sebastian Mason walked in exactly five minutes later.

His hair was still a little too perfect — like he’d used expensive water instead of gel — but the way his eyes instinctively scanned the floor and stopped on her made three assistants collectively suck in their breath.

He nodded to Katherine.

She nodded back.

That was it.

And yet it was everything.

Maddison almost dropped her coffee.

---

The morning passed slowly — or perhaps too fast. Katherine was answering emails with one hand and finishing a SWOT analysis of Maddison's latest campaign with the other. Technically it wasn’t her project. But technically... Maddison shouldn't still be employed either.

Around 11:42 a.m., just as the office settled into the awkward post-coffee, pre-lunch lull, the sound of heels cut through the space.

Maddison.

"Miss Brown. A moment?"

Katherine slowly turned her chair.

"Of course," she smiled. "Conference room?"

"No. My office."

"Oh, goody. I’ve always wanted a private tour of Hell's annex."

The assistant next to Katherine coughed to cover a laugh.

---

Maddison’s office looked like an expensive apology. White orchids. Marble desk. Framed press clippings of her past victories.

Too bad those days were over.

"You’ve been busy," Maddison began coldly, folding her arms.

"Busy is my cardio."

"You think you’re clever —"

"I know I’m clever. But continue."

"You have no idea what you’re getting into, Miss Brown. You think you’ve won just because you —"

"Just because I uncovered the fact that your third wedding was illegal because your second divorce wasn’t finalized? Or because your ‘consulting’ firm ran a fake survey to sway a vote last year? Or is it because—"

"Enough!" Maddison hissed.

There was silence.

Then Katherine stood, walked to the window, and smiled.

"I don’t want your job, Maddison. But I do want the truth. And the truth is, you hurt people. Sebastian included. You chewed and spit him out like he was nothing. But he’s not nothing. Not to me."

Maddison blinked. “You think this is about a man?”

Katherine turned to her, fire in her chest.

"No. But you made it about power. And now... the power’s shifting."

She walked out before Maddison could reply.

---

1:30 p.m.

Lunch in the break room was a little more crowded than usual. People kept stealing glances at Katherine, as if she’d grown wings or a halo.

She didn’t care.

She texted Sebastian: "You free after 3? Need your signature on something “important.” 😉"

A single reply: "Already cleared my schedule. Don’t keep me waiting, Miss Brown."

---

3:07 p.m.

Elevator.

Sebastian stepped in.

Katherine followed.

They were alone.

"So," he said, eyes not leaving hers. "That suit. That energy. Are you trying to kill me in broad daylight?"

"Maybe."

"Miss Brown," he whispered, inching closer, "you're glowing."

She leaned into him, voice low and wicked.

"And you, Mr. Mason, are in serious danger of falling for me."

He didn’t answer.

He kissed her instead.

Just before the doors opened, Katherine laughed.

"You know, Maddison had a meltdown today."

"I'm shocked," Sebastian deadpanned.

"She told me I didn’t know what I was getting into."

"And do you?"

Katherine looked up at him with a grin.

"No. But it’s going to be one hell of a ride."

---

They didn’t go far.

Just across the street, tucked behind a row of office buildings, was a small Italian bistro — red brick walls, ivy creeping up the side, and an outdoor patio that looked like it belonged in Florence, not downtown New York.

Sebastian had booked it, of course.

Privately. Quietly.

But that didn’t stop the hostess from greeting them with a knowing smile and leading them to a corner table on the terrace — half-hidden by jasmine vines, with a single lit candle in the middle even though it was only 3:30 in the afternoon.

"Wow," Katherine murmured, sliding into her seat, "this place is beautiful. Romantic, even."

"Is it?" Sebastian asked innocently, opening the wine list.

Katherine arched a brow. "This isn’t lunch, is it?"

He glanced over the menu. "It’s food."

"And candles. And privacy. And… jasmine?"

He didn’t reply.

Just smirked.

Katherine leaned across the table, eyes narrowing playfully.

"If this is a date, I’m going to need to approve your outfit in advance next time."

Sebastian looked down at his perfectly tailored charcoal suit, then back up at her.

"Is this not 'date appropriate'?"

"You’re wearing enough Armani to fund a semester of my college."

"Sounds like a good investment."

She laughed — loud enough that the couple at the next table turned their heads. She didn’t care.

And neither did he.

They ordered pasta, shared a bottle of red, and talked about everything except work. Childhood stories. Her imaginary iguana named Clarence. His obsession with perfectly aligned spreadsheets. Her secret fear of clowns. His irrational hatred of raisins.

It was easy. Too easy.

And then, as dessert arrived — one plate, two spoons — Katherine reached for her wine and suddenly froze.

Sebastian followed her gaze.

Across the street, behind the tinted glass of a second-story window… someone was watching them.

A woman.

Short dark hair, blazer with rolled sleeves, a notebook in one hand and a phone in the other.

The head of HR.

Sebastian raised his glass slowly.

"She sees us."

Katherine sipped her wine, then shrugged.

"Maybe we’re just... networking."

He chuckled.

"Over tiramisu?"

"And jasmine."

Sebastian leaned in, his voice lower now, warm against her skin.

"You realize we’ve just broken at least three company policies."

"Only three? Disappointing."

He smiled — not the cold CEO smile.

The real one.

Then Katherine added with a wink,

"If HR calls a meeting, I’m bringing dessert."

---

The elevator dinged softly as they reached the twenty-ninth floor.

Still slightly flushed from wine and laughter, Katherine stepped out first, brushing her hand lightly against Sebastian’s wrist — just a touch, just enough. They didn’t speak, but the silence between them was easy now, warm.

And then —

“Mr. Mason. Miss Brown.”

The voice sliced through the air like a knife dipped in cold professionalism.

Both froze mid-step.

Standing by the glass-walled HR office, arms crossed and expression unreadable, was Clara Jennings, Head of Human Resources.

“Could you step into my office for a moment?”

The “moment” sounded eternal.

Sebastian’s jaw tensed. Katherine swallowed.

They followed her in. No words. Just the click of heels and the closing of the glass door behind them.

Clara gestured to the two chairs opposite her desk.

Sebastian didn’t sit.

Neither did Katherine — though her knees screamed at her to.

Clara folded her hands on the desk.

“So. Imagine my surprise when I looked out the window and saw two of my employees — one of whom owns the company — having… what appeared to be a very cozy, candle-lit afternoon.”

Katherine tried to speak.

“I —”

Clara held up a hand.

“I’m not asking for clarification. Not yet.”

Her gaze slid to Sebastian.

“Technically, Mr. Mason, as founder and majority shareholder, you are not bound by the same restrictions as the rest of us. But Miss Brown…” — her eyes darted sharply back to Katherine — “...you are.”

Silence.

Painfully loud silence.

“Romantic involvement between managerial executives and subordinate staff,” Clara continued, “has to be declared immediately. Or there are consequences.”

“Then declare it,” Sebastian said. Flat. Final.

Clara blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’m declaring it now. We’re involved.”

Katherine stared at him.

Clara’s brows shot up.

“That puts you in direct violation of our internal code of conduct.”

Sebastian didn’t blink.

“Then rewrite the code.”

Clara turned to Katherine now.

“You do understand, Miss Brown, that if the board gets wind of this before it’s documented and resolved internally, they’ll call for your dismissal?”

Katherine’s throat closed up. Her fingers clenched.

She wanted to disappear. Crawl under the table. Vanish between spreadsheets.

But Sebastian’s voice came again — sharper now.

“If anyone’s going to leave this company over this, it won’t be her.”

Katherine looked up, wide-eyed.

Clara narrowed her eyes.

“You’re willing to stake your position for this… relationship?”

Sebastian leaned forward, resting both hands on the edge of her desk.

“I’m willing to burn the whole damn place down if it means protecting her.”

Katherine blinked fast. Her chest felt tight.

Clara sighed, finally sitting back. “That… won’t be necessary.”

A beat. Another.

“Document it,” she said. “Sign it. Both of you. Today.”

Then, dryly:

“And for the love of God, please try to avoid candle-lit lunches in full view of the HR department.”

Sebastian almost smiled.

Katherine didn’t dare move.

But as they walked out together, papers in hand, she whispered:

“You’d really burn it all down for me?”

Sebastian glanced sideways, then down at her.

“No,” he said softly. “But I’d start with HR.”

---