Marking his territory.

VALENTINA

I laughed nervously.

“How may I help you?” Kendrick asked, stepping between Briana and me.

Her eyes narrowed, searching my face like she was flipping through an old mental yearbook. “I could have sworn I had seen you somewhere,” she said, but the recognition never clicked.

My makeup was flawless, a perfect shield. I let a tiny, secret smile bloom inside as her phone shrilled, forcing her to mutter an apology and vanish into the elevator, her stare still clinging to me until the doors slid shut.

Kendrick glanced at me. Something flashed in his eyes, but it disappeared before I could register it.

“Well, that was odd,” I said.

He ignored me and started walking.

He didn’t break stride, didn’t even glance back—just flicked his wrist toward the long corridor ahead and said, low and clipped, “Start walking. Now.”

I swallowed the last of my relief from the Brianna escape, heels clicking sharply against the polished floor as I moved past him, feeling his eyes burn into my back the whole way.

As I sank into the chair, my eyes flicked over the table. Piles of unsorted files teetered, pages curled at the edges, stray Post-its fluttered like dying moths, and a cold sweat prickled along my spine because I knew I was pushing my luck.

Then I saw it, one neat cream folder half-hidden under the wreckage, the tab screaming Nate Standford in sharp black ink.

A slow, vicious smile tugged at my mouth before I could stop it. I reached across, slid the file free, and flipped it open.

There it was—the exact business proposal I’d slaved over for him three months ago, the one he’d brushed off with a bored “Later” right before he made me donate my kidney to that wench.

The contract I’d practically begged our shared contacts to champion. Now it sat here, red APPROVED stamps blazing across the cover page, signatures pending, his big break just waiting for him to claim it.

So this is why she came here earlier? To confirm the progress of a contract I secured for that bastard?

I closed the folder with a soft snap, tucked it tight against my ribs, and felt something dark and sweet uncoil in my chest.

Karma is really a bitch.

I could alter it or let it quietly disappear in the shuffle, but it didn’t sit right with me. Then again, Nate had always said I was too soft, too cheap, and too easy to manipulate.

Now, he’s going to find out exactly how wrong he’d been.

I took the file, walked straight to the stairwell, fed every single page into the industrial shredder on the landing, and listened to the machine chew his future into confetti.

Then I fired off one anonymous email directly to him, “Check your inbox—your star prospect just lost the paperwork. Permanently.”

“Hey, Janet.”

Kendrick’s voice echoed from the CEO’s office as I packed up my things, ready to leave for the day. I answered immediately and slid through the half-opened door.

The moment I entered the office, I saw him sprawled behind the huge desk. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, his tattooed chest visible.

“What are you doing after work?” he asked, his eyes assessing me.

“I would be busy,” I said.

“Good,” he began. “We’re going to the Langston mansion. I need to introduce you to my father.” He explicitly ignored the fact that I said I’d be busy.

“Why?” I began, “Do you introduce all your employees to your dad?”

I smiled, he knew what I was playing at.

His smile froze.

“Look,” he said, ““Don’t let the fact that you’re connected to my brother in some mysterious way get into your head. You’re still an employee here and that means you have to talk to me with respect.”

I bowed slightly and muttered a quick apology.

He has a point. I am Valentina right now—I am Janet, the freshly graduated student with zero work experience.

I need to charm them in-order to get access to the computer.

Despite knowing that, I still couldn’t get over the fact that his casual tone sliced through me like I was still the invisible wife Nate discarded.

Him leaning back on my desk, smirking, tossing orders as though I owed him obedience.

Well, technically, I did owe him obedience since I worked here now. But still, he wasn’t making this any easier.

He cleared his throat, adjusted his tie slightly, and spoke.

“It’s part of company policy.” He leaned back in his chair. “Don’t read meaning into it. My father always meets his employees in person before hiring, especially high ranking employees.”

“I understand, sir,” I said firmly.

“Good. Go get your things,” he said. “We leave in five minutes.”

I nodded and exited the office.

The black Mercedes-Benz rolled up the long driveway just as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the Langston mansion in deep oranges and purples.

The place looked even bigger at night—stone walls, tall windows glowing warm, fountains lit up like they were showing off.

We got out, and the cool evening air hit me right away, carrying the scent of fresh-cut grass mixed with something floral from the gardens.

Before I could even smooth my dress, the front doors swung open and a tall, older butler stepped out in his perfect black suit. He gave a small bow. “Good evening, Mr. Langston. Madam. Welcome.”

I flinched at the word madam, turned to Kendrick who was smiling for no reason.

He handed his coat to the butler without a word, and we walked through the huge foyer, chandeliers sparkling overhead, past serious-looking oil paintings staring down at us. My heels echoed too loudly on the marble.

At the end, the dining room opened up—a long dark-wood table, candles flickering, soft classical music playing in the background.

His father sat at the head, silver hair neat, reading something on a tablet with half-glasses perched on his nose.

Kendrick gave him that easy, confident smile. “Good evening, Father.”

“Good evening, sir,” I said.

The man looked up, then glanced between us and nodded in acknowledgment.

“Take a seat, will you?” he said.

I pulled one of the chairs back and slid into it.

“Are you aware of your brother’s secret marriage?” He said all of a sudden.

My heart gave a sharp skip when the words casually came out of his mouth and I choked on nothing.

They both glanced at me with unreadable expressions, as I coughed gently. I poured myself a glass of water, gulped it down and muttered an apology.

Then, out of nowhere, Frederick appeared behind me, black suit ironed sharp enough to cut glass, his face all hard lines and quiet confidence.

Without a word, he pulled out the chair right beside me, sat down close—too close—and slid one arm around my waist, fingers firm against my side like he was claiming territory in front of everyone.

“So,” he said with a smile, “where were we?”