Chapter 17
I slipped out of the mansion as dawn's first light painted the sky, a pale pink hue that felt at odds with the turmoil swirling inside me. The crisp morning air bit at my cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the cold dread pooling in my stomach.
I couldn’t face Vaughn, not after what had happened last night. What could I possibly say to him? The entire situation had been a nightmare, but it wasn’t new. Vaughn had always been a presence lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
This was a man who had shamelessly watched his father fuck me, his eyes never leaving us, as if he were cataloging every detail for later use.
He had touched me, tried to take what wasn’t his, all while Colson was just down the hall.
The memory sent a shiver down my spine, but I quickly shook it off.
I couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Vaughn had made it clear he thought I wasn’t worth his time, yet his actions screamed the opposite.
He still wanted me, and that was dangerous.
I had seen it in his eyes, the way they darkened with jealousy when Silas Bass tried to charm me at that dinner.
Vaughn couldn’t stand the idea of another man being close to me, and that made him unpredictable.
Untrustworthy. I needed to be careful around him, to keep my distance.
I wouldn’t go back to the mansion alone again.
It wasn’t safe, not with Vaughn’s unpredictable temper and that unnerving intensity he always directed at me.
As I climbed into the back of the car, I made a decision.
I would spend Christmas at the penthouse this year.
The mansion held too many memories, and with Colson gone, it felt like a hollow shell of what it once was.
I couldn’t bear the thought of spending the holidays there, surrounded by ghosts and shadows.
Instead, I would hire a crew to decorate the triplex from top to bottom, just like we used to do at the mansion.
The thought of garlands and twinkling lights brought a small smile to my lips, but it faded as quickly as it came. Part of me didn’t want to celebrate at all. What was the point? But I knew I had to do it, for my family’s sake. They needed to believe I was okay, even if I wasn’t.
The car started to pull away from the mansion, and I forced myself to look forward, to focus on the path ahead instead of the one behind.
Snow would have been nice, a white blanket to cover the world in quiet, but the forecast didn’t call for any.
I sighed, leaning my head back against the seat, trying to block out the thoughts that threatened to consume me.
But no matter how hard I tried, Vaughn’s face kept creeping into my mind, that smirk, those eyes that seemed to see right through me.
I couldn’t let him get to me. I had to be strong, had to keep up the facade for everyone else.
Christmas was supposed to be a time of joy, of family and love, but all I felt was a deep, aching loneliness.
As the city skyline came into view, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I would get through this. I had to. But as the car drove on, a part of me couldn’t shake the feeling that this Christmas would be anything but merry.
As the days crept closer to the anniversary of Colson’s passing, a heaviness settled over me like a shroud.
Christmas had been a blur of forced smiles and hollow laughter; my family gathered around me in the penthouse as if their presence alone could ward off the grief.
But the moment they left, taking their warmth and cheer with them, the melancholy returned with a vengeance.
I couldn’t escape the memories, the way they clawed at me with every passing day. The pain was a constant, gnawing ache that threatened to pull me under. I knew I had to do something—anything—to keep from drowning in it. So, I turned to the one thing I could control - business.
Throwing myself into work was a welcome distraction, a way to push the memories to the back of my mind.
I became more ruthless, more determined to make my mark.
It wasn’t enough to simply maintain the status quo; I needed to dominate, to expand.
That’s when I found the perfect target, a financial company, ripe for a hostile takeover.
I had my investigators comb through every detail, every facet of Wickshire Financial Services Group. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake as we had with Bass Banking. This time, everything had to be airtight. Clean. And it was—just woefully mismanaged, a sleeping giant waiting to be awakened.
The board meeting was tense, with Vaughn glaring at me from across the table as I laid out my plan.
He was against the purchase, of course. He always was.
But the board approved, swayed by my arguments and the potential for massive profit.
I didn’t even spare Vaughn a glance as they voted in my favor.
I could feel his anger simmering, but I pressed on, determined to see this through.
Later that evening, I found him waiting for me in my office, his posture rigid, his expression thunderous.
“You’re making a mistake,” Vaughn snapped the moment I stepped inside, his voice low and dangerous.
I shut the door behind me, leaning against it as I crossed my arms over my chest. “The board doesn’t think so,” I replied coolly.
“The board doesn’t see what I see. You’re pushing too hard, too fast. This company is a sinking ship, and you’re too blinded by your ambition to notice.”
I raised an eyebrow, refusing to back down. “It’s not sinking. It’s mismanaged, and I intend to turn it around.”
“Like you did with Bass?” he shot back, his eyes narrowing.
“That was different, and you know it,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “This company is clean.”
“You’re acting like you have something to prove, Joey. But at what cost?”
“At any cost,” I hissed, stepping closer to him, my pulse quickening. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing? I’m building this company up from the ashes of your father’s legacy. I’ve fought tooth and nail for every inch, and I’m not about to stop now.”
Vaughn’s eyes blazed with something I couldn’t quite place—anger, yes, but there was something else there too, something darker, more primal. The air between us crackled with tension, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re reckless,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And it’s going to get you hurt.”
I forced myself to hold his gaze, even as the heat of his proximity made it difficult to breathe. “I’m doing what needs to be done. You’re just too afraid to take risks.”
“Risks?” Vaughn took a step closer, his eyes locking onto mine. “Is that what you think this is? A game?”
“Everything’s a game, Vaughn,” I shot back, my voice barely above a whisper. “And I intend to win.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke, the tension between us thick enough to cut with a knife.
I could feel the heat radiating off him, could see the flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.
My breath hitched as his gaze dropped to my lips, his hand twitching at his side as if he was holding himself back.
But then, just as quickly as it had flared up, the moment passed. Vaughn clenched his jaw, stepping back as if to put distance between us.
“You’re going to regret this,” he muttered, his voice hard.
“Maybe,” I replied, forcing myself to remain calm. “But that’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
Without another word, Vaughn turned and stormed out of the office, leaving me standing there, my heart still racing.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, trying to steady myself.
The sexual tension between us was palpable, almost unbearable, but I couldn’t afford to give in.
Not now. Not ever. Vaughn was dangerous in more ways than one, and I needed to stay focused. There was too much at stake.
But as I sat down at my desk, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning, that things were about to get far more complicated than I had ever anticipated.
The Wickshire deal went off without a hitch, and the success only deepened Vaughn’s frustration. The board's approval and the subsequent seven-dollar rise in our stock had silenced his objections, but the tension between us had only grown more obvious.
The day after the deal, on my birthday—Valentine’s Day—I woke up with a heaviness I couldn’t shake.
I called in sick, unable to face the world, and sat by the floor-to-ceiling windows in my penthouse, cradling a cup of tea.
The snow outside was falling steadily, covering the patio pavers in a pristine blanket of white.
The sight should have been calming, but instead, it brought tears to my eyes.
I couldn’t stop thinking about last year, when Colson was so sick, so close to death. In three weeks, it would be the anniversary of his passing. The thought clawed at my insides, and before I knew it, I was on my feet, drawn to the balcony like a moth to a flame.
I slipped into my robe and stepped outside, the bitter wind slicing through me like a knife. The snow crunched under my slippers as I walked toward the railing, the cold seeping into my bones.
“COLSON!” I screamed into the wind, the sound of his name torn from my throat, raw and desperate.
The tears came faster now, mingling with the snowflakes that clung to my hair and shoulders.
I gripped the railing, staring out at the avenue below, feeling the darkness descend with the fading light.
The world was silent, blanketed in white, and I was numb—numb from the cold, numb from the grief that had taken root in my heart and refused to let go.
“Josephine.”
The voice startled me, and for a moment, I thought it was Colson. I looked up, searching the darkening sky, but there was nothing.
“Joey, what are you doing?”