Chapter four

Grayson stood frozen in the middle of his office, staring at the door Shayla had just fled through like it held answers to questions he'd stopped asking years ago.

This wasn't happening.

This couldn't be happening.

Shayla Hale. Here. In his building. His employee.

Seven years. He'd searched for seven goddamn years, hired private investigators, called in favors, followed every lead that went nowhere. It was like she'd vanished from the face of the earth, dissolved into thin air, taking every trace of herself with her.

And now she was here.

"Mr. Cross?" Catherine's voice cut through the white noise in his head. "Sir, are you alright?"

He turned to look at her, and he must have looked as wrecked as he felt because her professional mask slipped for half a second, concern flickering across her features.

"I—" His voice came out rough, barely recognizable. He cleared his throat. "How long has she been gone?"

Catherine glanced at her watch. "About three minutes, sir. Should I—"

"No." The word came out sharper than he intended. "No, just... give her time."

"Mr. Cross, if there's a personal history here that might affect the working relationship, I need to know. We can find another candidate—"

"No." He said it again, more firmly this time. "She stays. The position is hers."

Catherine's eyebrows rose fractionally. "Sir, with all due respect, if there's conflict—"

"There's no conflict." The lie tasted bitter on his tongue. "We knew each other in college. Briefly. It's been years. We were both... surprised to see each other, that's all."

That wasn't all. It was everything. It was the weight of seven years of guilt and grief and wondering if she was even alive. It was the memory of her smile, her laugh, the way she'd looked at him like he was something worth believing in before he destroyed it all.

Catherine didn't look convinced, but she was too professional to push. "Very well. I'll check on Ms. Hale and make sure she's settling in."

"Thank you, Catherine."

She left, closing the door behind her with a soft click that felt too loud in the sudden silence.

Grayson moved to his desk on autopilot, sinking into his chair and pressing his palms against his eyes until he saw stars.

Shayla.

God, she looked different. Not bad different—never bad. Just... more. More beautiful, more guarded, more distant. The soft edges he remembered had sharpened into something harder, like she'd built walls so high even looking at him hurt.

And that body. Those curves that made his suit feel too tight, that made his mouth go dry—

"Shut the fuck up, Gray," he muttered to himself, dragging his hands down his face.

This wasn't about that. This wasn't about the way his body had reacted the second he'd turned around and seen her, the way every cell in him had recognized her before his brain caught up. This wasn't about want or need or any of the things that had gotten him into this mess in the first place.

This was about the fact that she'd run. From him. Again.

He deserved it. God knew he deserved worse. But it still felt like taking a knife to the chest, watching her bolt the second she realized who he was.

Why had she dropped out?

That question had haunted him for seven years. One day she was there—vibrant, alive, his entire world condensed into one person—and the next she was gone. No explanation. No goodbye. Just... gone.

He'd gone to her dorm room that morning, the morning after everything, ready to tell her the truth. Ready to confess that the bet had been real but that he'd called it off weeks ago, that what they had was real, that he loved her in a way that scared the hell out of him.

But she wasn't there.

Ruby—her roommate, her best friend—had looked at him with pure hatred in her eyes and told him Shayla was gone. Dropped out. Left in the middle of the night.

"What do you want from her?" Ruby had demanded, blocking the doorway like she'd physically fight him if he tried to enter.

"Nothing, I—I need to talk to her. Please, Ruby, just tell me where she went—"

"Stay away from her, Grayson. You've done enough damage."

And then she'd slammed the door in his face.

Ruby had dropped out too, he'd learned later. Followed Shayla wherever she'd gone, disappeared just as completely.

He'd tried everything. Called Shayla's phone until it went to a disconnected message. Tracked down her father—who'd told him to fuck off and never contact their family again. Even hired a private investigator who came back empty-handed after six months.

It was like she'd erased herself from existence.

The cruise ship. That goddamn cruise ship they'd bet on. The prize for successfully completing the challenge—make Shayla Hale fall for him before graduation.

It was still docked at the marina, untouched, gathering dust. He'd bought it outright after graduation—paid an obscene amount of money to own something he'd never use—because the idea of anyone else stepping foot on it made him want to burn it to the ground.

He couldn't enjoy it. Couldn't even look at it without wanting to be sick.

It was a monument to his worst mistake, and he kept it anyway. A reminder of what his arrogance had cost him.

Guilt had made him cold. Everyone said so. His business partners, his employees, the few people who still bothered trying to connect with him on a personal level. Grayson Cross, the Ice King. Brilliant, ruthless, completely devoid of warmth.

He hadn't been happy since it happened. Hadn't let himself be happy.

How could he be, knowing what he'd done? Knowing that somewhere out there, Shayla was living a life he'd destroyed?

Except she wasn't out there anymore.

She was here.

Twenty feet away, separated only by a wall of tinted glass.

And he had no idea what the hell to do about it.

His hands curled into fists on his desk, jaw clenched so tight it ached.

He'd called off the bet. That had to count for something, didn't it? He'd told Ivan and Jake to back off, told them he was done playing their stupid games. He'd fallen in love with her—really, genuinely fallen—and he'd been ready to tell her everything.

But she'd disappeared before he got the chance.

What had happened that night? What had driven her to run?

The questions had eaten at him for seven years, and now—finally—she was close enough to answer them.

If she'd even speak to him.

Grayson leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing.

She was his assistant now. That meant daily interaction. Meetings. Emails. Close proximity.

Either this was fate giving him a second chance—

Or it was karma preparing to destroy him completely.

---

Shayla locked herself in the furthest bathroom stall and tried to remember how to breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

Her hands were shaking so badly she had to press them flat against her thighs to make them stop. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like it was trying to escape her chest, and black spots danced at the edges of her vision.

Not a panic attack. Not here. Not now.

In. Out. In. Out.

Why him? Why, of all the companies in all the cities in the world, did it have to be his?

GC Group of Companies. Grayson Cross.

How had she not made the connection? How had she been so stupid, so blind, so completely oblivious—

A sob broke free before she could stop it, raw and jagged, tearing up her throat.

She'd spent seven years running from him. Seven years building a life where he didn't exist, where the past couldn't touch her, where she was safe.

And in one second, all of it had crumbled.

The tears came before she could stop them, hot and relentless, spilling down her cheeks as memories she'd buried deep clawed their way back to the surface.

---

**The Black Mansion party.**

She'd never wanted to go. Movie nights with Ruby were more her speed—quiet, comfortable, safe. But Ruby had insisted, practically dragging her there in that red backless gown that made her feel exposed and beautiful all at once.

"It's one night, Shay. You're coming with me even if I have to drag you there barefoot."

And Shayla had gone. For Ruby.

The mansion had been everything the rumors promised—golden lights, expensive perfume thick in the air, music that pulsed through your bones. She'd stood at the edge of the crowd feeling out of place, turning down guy after guy who thought a smile was an invitation.

And then she'd seen him.

Grayson Cross.

Even before their eyes met, her body had known. Some primal part of her recognized him across that crowded room—the dark-haired boy with the dangerous smirk and eyes that could ruin lives.

She couldn't look away. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't think about anything except the heat spreading through her chest every time he laughed or moved or existed in her proximity.

He hadn't even noticed her. Not then.

Then came the game. Truth or Dare.

Someone had dared him to kiss the most beautiful girl in the room, and he'd stood up with that cocky confidence she'd later learn was his armor, scanning the crowd like he owned every soul in it.

And then he'd stopped. Right in front of her.

"Let me give you the best kiss of your life. I know you've been dying to have your lips on mine."

The crowd had roared. Phones had come out. Everyone had waited for her to melt like every other girl did.

But Shayla had looked him dead in the eye and said, "Not interested."

The gasp that rippled through the party was audible. Shock. Disbelief. Whispers.

*No one turns down Grayson Cross.*

But she had.

And when he'd said something vulgar—something cruel and arrogant that made her blood boil—she'd fired back with words that cut just as deep.

"Your ego is just as ugly as you."

Then she'd walked away. Head high. Heart racing. Ruby laughing beside her in disbelief.

That should have been the end of it.

But it wasn't.

---

Grayson had pursued her after that. Not with his usual careless charm, but with something deliberate. Intentional.

He'd shown up at the library where she studied. Brought her coffee during late-night sessions. Walked her back to her dorm even when it was out of his way.

She'd fought it. God, she'd fought it.

But he'd been patient. Funny. Surprisingly gentle beneath all that arrogance. He'd asked about her mother's illness, listened when she talked about her family's implosion, made her laugh when she wanted to cry.

Enemies became friends.

And friends became something she'd never anticipated.

She'd fallen for him. Completely. Terrifyingly. The kind of fall that changes everything.

Ruby had been there through it all—her roommate, her best friend, the only person who truly knew her. Ruby had watched Shayla fall and had been skeptical at first, protective, warning her that boys like Grayson didn't change.

But even Ruby had softened when she'd seen the way he looked at Shayla. Like she was the only thing in the world worth paying attention to.

When Shayla finally gave herself to him—gave him her virginity in his apartment on a night when everything felt right—it had been beautiful. Gentle. Real.

Or so she'd thought.

---

The next morning, she'd gone to their private study spot. The place they always met between classes.

But she'd heard voices before she got there. Ivan and Jake. Grayson's friends. Laughing about something.

She'd frozen just outside the door, their words cutting through her like knives.

"I can't believe Gray actually pulled it off. Three months. That's gotta be a record."

"Told you he could do it. Shayla Hale, the ice queen who turned him down. He said he'd make her fall, and he did."

"Think he'll actually take the cruise ship?"

"Hell yeah. That bet was solid gold. Best idea we ever had."

Bet.

The word echoed in her mind, louder than her heartbeat.

He'd made a bet. On her.

Shayla had stumbled backward, vision blurring, the hallway tilting beneath her feet.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She'd pulled it out with shaking hands.

A notification. Someone had tagged her on the school blog.

No. No, no, no—

The video loaded before she could stop it. Her and Grayson. Intimate. Exposed. Everything private now on display for the entire campus to see.

The caption underneath twisted the knife deeper: “Used and dumped. Grayson Cross strikes again”.

Comments were already flooding in. Laughing. Mocking. Calling her naive, stupid, another notch on his bedpost.

The phone nearly slipped from her hands.

And then it rang.

The hospital.

"Ms. Hale, you need to come immediately. Your mother—there were complications—cardiac arrest—we did everything we could—"

The rest of the words blurred together, meaningless noise against the roaring in her ears.

Her mother was gone.

Grayson had used her.

Everything—everything—had fallen apart in the span of five minutes.

Shayla didn't remember getting to her dorm. Didn't remember packing. Didn't remember calling Ruby or withdrawing from school or buying the ticket.

She just remembered running.

Running like her life depended on it.

Because staying meant facing the truth—that she'd been a fool, that love was a lie, that the one person she'd trusted had destroyed her completely.

Ruby had found her at the dorm, tears already streaming down her face because she'd seen the video, seen the comments, understood immediately what had happened.

"I'm coming with you," Ruby had said. Not a question. A statement.

"Ruby, you can't just—"

"Watch me. We're leaving. Now. Tonight."

And they had.

By morning, Shayla Hale and Ruby had vanished from Thorncrest University like they'd never existed at all.

---

Shayla's breath hitched, another sob clawing its way up. She'd buried this. Locked it in a box she'd never intended to open.

But seeing him again—standing there in his expensive suit, looking at her like he'd seen a ghost—had ripped every wound wide open.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

She pulled it out with trembling hands. Ruby's name flashed across the screen.

"Ruby—" Her voice cracked the moment she answered.

"Mama bear, what's wrong? You sound like you're crying. What happened?"

"I—Ruby, I can't—" The words tumbled out, barely coherent. "It's him. It's Grayson. He's my boss. The CEO. Ruby, it's him."

Silence. Then, "What the fuck?"

"GC Group of Companies. Grayson Cross. How did I not see it? How—" She broke off, pressing her hand over her mouth.

"That motherfucker." Ruby's voice was tight with fury. "Shay, get out of there. Right now. I'll come get you."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can—"

"Ruby, I need this job." Desperation bled through every word. "The salary—it's more than I've made in months combined. Ayven's school fees are due. The rent is overdue. I can't walk away. I can't."

"Shayla—"

"I need this." She was crying openly now. "I know it's him. I know what he did. But I need this paycheck. I need to survive. I need to give Ayven stability."

Ruby was quiet for a long moment. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know." Shayla wiped at her face. "I just—I can't fall apart. Not here."

"Do you want me to come?"

"No. I need to handle this." She took a shaky breath. "I need this job. Which means I need to walk back out there and pretend seeing him didn't destroy me all over again."

"You don't have to pretend anything—"

"I know you'd support me. But I can't quit. Not this time."

Ruby sighed, heavy with worry. "If he says one word out of line, you call me. I will drag you out of there myself."

"I will. I promise."

"And Shay? You're stronger than you think. You survived him once. You can do it again."

Shayla wanted to believe her. But standing in that bathroom, face swollen from crying, she didn't feel strong.

She felt broken all over again.

"I have to go. I need to pull myself together."

"Call me later. Please."

"I will. Love you, Rubes."

"Love you more, mama bear."

The call ended.

Shayla stood there another moment, then moved to the sink. She splashed cold water on her face, fixed her smudged makeup, straightened her blouse.

Professional. Composed. In control.

Even if it was a lie.

She stared at her reflection—older, harder, carrying scars that had never healed.

"You can do this," she whispered. "For Ayven. You can do this."

Then she walked out of that bathroom.

Back toward the office.

Back toward the man who'd ruined her life.

---

Shayla stood outside Grayson's office door, her hand raised to knock, and forced herself to breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

Her face was a mask—smooth, blank, completely void of emotion. She'd practiced this expression in the bathroom mirror until it was perfect. Professional. Untouchable. The kind of face that revealed nothing.

She knocked. Three sharp raps against the wood.

A pause. Then his voice, rough and hesitant. "Come in."

Shayla pushed the door open and stepped inside, her heels clicking against the polished floor with a confidence she didn't feel. Grayson was already on his feet, moving around his desk like he was going to approach her, his expression torn between shock and something that looked dangerously close to hope.

She raised her hand, stopping him mid-step.

"There's nothing to say, Mr. Cross." Her voice came out steady, cold, perfectly controlled. "You're my boss now, and everything will be strictly professional."

"Shayla, I—"

"There's nothing," she repeated, cutting him off before he could finish. Her eyes met his, and she made sure there was ice in her gaze, nothing warm, nothing soft. "Absolutely nothing between us. And don't worry—I wouldn't make this awkward for you."

She turned to leave, her body moving on autopilot, one foot in front of the other.

But after a few steps, she stopped. Turned back.

Grayson was still standing there, frozen, his jaw tight, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

"You have a meeting with the board members in sixty minutes." She paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to sting. "Sir."

Then she walked out, closing the door behind her with a soft, final click.

---

Grayson stood in the middle of his office, staring at the door she'd just walked through, and felt like he'd been gutted.

“Mr. Cross”

“Sir”

The formality in her voice, the coldness in her eyes—it was worse than hatred. Hatred would've meant she still felt something. This? This was indifference. Like he was nothing. A stranger. Just another boss she had to tolerate to collect a paycheck.

He sank into his chair, dragging a hand down his face, his chest tight.

She'd looked at him like he didn't exist. Like the years they'd spent together—the laughter, the late-night conversations, the way she used to say his name like it was something precious—had been erased completely.

And maybe they had been.

Maybe he'd destroyed them so thoroughly that there was nothing left to salvage.

But then why was she staying?

That was the question eating at him. If seeing him was this painful—and it clearly was, he'd seen the way her hands had trembled before she'd locked them at her sides—then why hadn't she walked out the second she realized who he was?

She really needed the job. That much was obvious.

But why? What had happened in the last seven years that made her desperate enough to work for the man who'd destroyed her?

He needed to know. Needed to understand what her life looked like now, where she'd been, what she'd done, why she's staying 

He needed answers.

Grayson pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found the name he was looking for. He pressed call and lifted the phone to his ear.