Chapter 4
Chapter four
Olivia
Idon’t know what I expected when I stepped into this building.
But it wasn’t this.
The Beaumont brothers are nothing like I imagined. I assumed I’d be meeting with an assistant today, not Wesley Beaumont himself. My pulse stutters. Surely he doesn’t remember me… not after all these years.
He looks… different.
Wesley is striking, all clean-shaven charm and a sharp suit, his blue eyes bright and welcoming. I study his face for any sign of recognition. Nothing. Just professional warmth.
His handshake is firm but polite, like he’s careful not to squeeze too hard. A gentleman.
The other two?
Different story.
One is lounging, shirt untucked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes, a touch darker than Wesley’s and there’s a roguishness to him, a casual energy that says troublemaker.
And then there’s him.
The eldest Beaumont.
I’ve read about him. Everyone has.
New buildings. Renovations.
He’s always in the media, for something.
If it’s not business, it’s galas.
Auctions.
A different woman on his arm each time.
He’s not lounging.
He’s not smiling.
He’s watching.
Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes the color of ice; and just as merciless.
His suit fits him too well, broad shoulders filling it out in a way that makes the air in the room feel smaller.
He doesn’t just look at me. He pins me down with it.
His hand is on the table, fingers drumming slightly, slow, rhythmic, like a ticking bomb only he can hear.
There’s tension in his body, a controlled stillness. And his gaze?
It’s heavy.
Like he’s waiting for me to notice that he’s noticing me.
I shake Wesley’s hand, then pull back quickly, willing myself to focus.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me,” I say, keeping my voice steady.
“Of course,” Wesley says, his hand going to my shoulder as he turns me toward the door. “Let’s take this to my main floor.”
His eyes flick toward his brothers, but I don’t turn to see their reactions. I don’t need to.
The weight of Warren’s stare drags down my spine, heavy and invasive the whole way out.
Wesley takes me to the elevator and up to the next floor, he talks about his new project and his day to day schedule, what he expects and what he wants.
I just tell myself to keep walking. If he knew, I’d see it—the flicker, the question. But there’s only professional ease in his voice.
Wesley stops just in front of a sleek, minimal desk nestled near a frosted glass office door.
“This is where you’ll be,” he says, gesturing to the workspace. “You’ve already been set up with a company email and calendar access. Leslie will walk you through the rest.”
“Wait, I-I have the job?” I ask confused as I follow him.
Wesley smiles, “You have an excellent resume and glowing references, yes Ms. Baker you have the job.”
For the first time since stepping inside, I relax. Maybe he really doesn’t remember.
He doesn’t say anything else, but his eyes flick, quickly, to the glass wall behind me. A barely perceptible shift in his expression. Like he’s trying not to look at something.
Or someone.
Before I can follow his gaze, he clears his throat and pulls out his phone.
“I need to step into something,” he adds smoothly, already tapping at the screen. “But I have Leslie coming, she’s one of our lead systems engineers. She’ll help you get settled.”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. Just disappears, casual but brisk.
A woman approaches a beat later, slim build, a clean ponytail, and an expression that reads efficient but kind.
“Hi,” she says, offering a hand. “I’m Leslie Rankin. Ready to get set up?”
“Yes, thank you,” I reply, sliding into the desk chair.
Leslie grabs a another chair from an empty cubicle and sits beside me, unlocking the computer and pulling up a series of onboarding systems.
“I’ll walk you through the basics; email, calendar, project dashboards, security protocols. Nothing too painful.”
I nod. I already know all of the basics.
Things I could handle without Leslie.
Her tone is gentle, her pace slow.
But my focus is elsewhere and the longer I sit there, the harder it becomes to concentrate.
Because I feel it again.
That gaze.
I don’t need to turn around to know where it’s coming from.
It’s not casual or fleeting.
It’s deliberate.
Like a spotlight pressed between my shoulder blades.
I click into a training tab Leslie just opened, pretending I’m absorbed in the text. But my breath catches slightly when I hear the low murmur of voices behind the glass.
Wesley and his brother.
They aren’t loud, but the cadence is tight. Clipped. Tense.
I feel like a cracked window between two storm systems, exposed and rattling without fully understanding why.
Leslie glances at me, then behind us, and smirks slightly. “Try to ignore it,” she murmurs under her breath.
I blink. “What?”
She leans in, typing something on the keyboard as she speaks. “War. He stares. It’s a thing.”
My chest tightens.
“I wasn’t imagining it then,” I say quietly.
“Nope,” Leslie replies. “He watches everything. Everyone. It’s how he processes. Creepy at first, then you sort of… get used to it.”
I nod slowly, though nothing about it feels easy to get used to.
“So… he just watches everyone?” I ask, keeping my voice low. “Is he, like… Wesley’s boss or something?”
Leslie chuckles under her breath. “No. If anything, Wesley’s been trying to get War to stop hovering for years.”
She shrugs, pulling up a new tab. “Go ahead and enter your password here.”
I shift my focus back to the screen and type in: Bakers_Brood
A soft laugh slips from me. “My mom used to call us the Bakers Brood growing up because of our last name, Baker. We’re not that big, really. Just a family of five, but—”
“Don’t use your last name in your password,” Leslie cuts in gently, her tone firmer now. “And don’t share it. With anyone.”
My face flushes hot. “Right. Of course,” I mumble, eyes dropping to the screen.
Rookie mistake.
Leslie gives a small nod and clicks into the next field. “Let’s go ahead and try a new password.”
I pause, hands hovering over the keyboard for a second.
I can feel his eyes.
Then I backspace slowly, each letter of Bakers Brood disappearing one by one, before typing a secure password, one I know no one would be able to pick apart.
I hit enter.
The confirmation screen blinks green.
I exhale.
“…Is he still watching me?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
Leslie glances, smirks, and turns back to me.
“Yep.”