All Chapters of It's Just Business : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

CHAPTER 12 Lexi's POV The moment my shift ended, I was already sweating, despite it being only about 11°C. I felt nauseous, as if I were a sixteen-year-old who just found out she was pregnant. My entire body ached from hours spent on my feet, and my hair was damp from helping out in the kitchen since Lori had called in sick. I was the only one who knew how to make everything just right. But none of that compared to the storm brewing in my stomach—nausea, nerves, and a kind of fear that didn’t come with sirens or shadows; it came from choices, from names like Brandon Wilson and contracts that could rewrite your life.I was in the back, gathering my things, when my phone buzzed.Aria 🦋 :Can I come with you? Please. Just to make sure he doesn’t try anything weird. I promise I won’t say anything.I stared at the message for a long moment before replying.Me: No, babe. I need to do this alone.Aria 🦋: At least let him send a car. Please, Lex.Me:I can handle it. I’ve got this.Aria 🦋:

Lexi's POV The car ride home was silent. I both liked and hated it at the same time; I could think, yet I also didn't want to think. The driver, all professional and clean-cut, didn’t ask questions or glance at me through the rearview mirror. It was like being chauffeured by a ghost, quiet, eerie, and somewhat fitting for the storm still swirling inside me. As the city blurred past my window as we drove past the city, I pressed my fingers against my thighs to keep from shaking. My mind replayed every word, every expression of Brandon Wilson across the table. Cold. Calculated. But honest, in his own terrifying way. When the car finally pulled up to my building in East New York, I hesitated before stepping out. I wanted to ask the driver how he knew where I lived when I hadn’t told him anything, but I remembered whose driver this was in the first place. The streets here were quieter, older. Familiar in a way that the rest of Manhattan could never be. The cool air smelled like...

Lexi's POV The building stood tall like a monolith almost reaching the sky, a blend of glass, steel, and power wrapped into one intimidating structure. I had passed it a hundred times before, on the bus, on foot, name it, it a building that just can't be avoided.I always stared at it from the outside, wondering who lived their lives behind all that shine. Never, not once, did I imagine I would walk through its doors. But here I was. I stood at the edge of the sidewalk, staring up like someone who didn’t belong, which... actually, I didn’t. Not really. Not yet. A deep breath didn’t help. Neither did the second one. But I stepped forward anyway. The doors opened automatically, of course, and I entered a marble lobby that looked like the inside of a luxurious commercial. The floors were so polished I could see my reflection; the walls adorned with minimalist art that probably cost more than my yearly rent, but didn't come close to Aria's. I'm biased, I know. The air smelled expensiv

Lexi's POV I woke up feeling like a stranger in my own skin.For a split second, I convinced myself it had all been a dream: the contract, me signing it, Brandon’s cold voice and colder eyes. Six months of pretending for money and survival. But the dull ache in my chest and the unfamiliar weight pressing behind my ribs said otherwise.I sat up slowly, letting the early morning light spill across the room. My head was pounding, but coffee would help. Coffee always helped—at least a little. I had hardly slept the night before, and let's be honest, I hadn’t gotten any real sleep in forever.I pushed off the sheets and padded towards the kitchen. I could already smell something cooking. God help me, Aria.When I entered the kitchen, I found her by the sink, elbows deep in suds, her short hair tied—or at least attempted to be tied—in a messy bun, and a determined look on her face. The counter behind her displayed the tragic remains of what might have once been pancakes, burned edges, lo

Brandon's POV I stepped into my penthouse, already expecting the usual silence. It had become a ritual by now: the still but cool air, the dim lights automatically triggered by motion sensors, the quiet that greeted me every evening. It was how I liked it—controlled, predictable, mine. But tonight, something was different. The lights responded, but they weren’t the only things greeting me. It was the scent. Warm. Rich. Something savory, laced with a hint of garlic and spice. Pasta? Maybe. But not the kind Nina ever made. This wasn’t one of her carefully portioned, bland, saltless meals. This was comfort food. Real food. I loosened my tie, my brow twitching. Who the hell was cooking in my kitchen? I didn’t hear voices until I turned the corner, but then—laughter. Soft, girlish laughter. One voice was familiar; the other, I assumed, belonged to Aria. The kitchen glowed under the pendant lights. The once-silent space was now alive. Alexis stood barefoot in front of the stove