Chapter 5
Ruby
I’m sitting at my desk pretending to answer emails when the notification pings with the subtlety of a gunshot.
From: Jaxon Cole
Subject: Interview, Today
Today.
Today.
TODAY?
My stomach drops into my shoes. I click the message with hands that absolutely betray me.
Ruby,
You’re free in fifteen minutes. Let’s use my office.
J
He doesn’t even ask, he just assumes. The audacity is astronomically attractive.
Ava walks by and whispers, “You look pale and horny; you need to fix that before the meeting.”
“Shut up,” I hiss.
Sienna fans herself dramatically. “Tell him the plant needs watering. The plant is me. I’m the plant.”
“Both of you go away before I commit violence.”
They scatter, mostly because my editor appears with a stack of papers and a glare sharp enough to cut bone.
“Ruby, Mr. Cole wants you in his office. He’s very specific about wanting the interview done immediately.” She pauses, giving me an oddly curious look. “Do you know him?”
“No,” I squeak. “Never. Absolutely not. First time hearing his name. Jaxon who? Never met him. Don’t even know what a man is.”
She blinks. “You’re acting strange.”
“I’m always strange.”
“Stranger than usual.”
I fake a laugh that sounds like a dying blender. “Deadline nerves!”
She sighs. “Fine. Go. And for God’s sake, be professional.”
“I’m always professional.”
Her stare says otherwise.
I grab my notepad and recorder and walk toward the glass corner office like I’m heading to an execution, albeit a sexy execution and one with abs.
The door is open. Jaxon stands inside with his jacket off, his sleeves rolled to his forearms, and the top few buttons of his shirt undone like he’s intentionally endangering lives with chest access.
His gaze hits mine instantly, and I feel it; deep, low, and everywhere.
“Ruby,” he says softly. “Come in.”
I close the door behind me. The click sounds obscene.
“This looks… official,” I say, gesturing to the office.
“I’m an official man,” he replies with the slightest smirk. “Sit.”
The command curls through me like smoke.
I sit. He leans against the edge of his desk, his arms folded, watching me like he’s replaying every second of last night.
I clear my throat. “Okay. Let’s begin. This is, um… for the Valentine’s Desire Issue. Bachelor Number Seven.”
“Yes.” His gaze doesn’t move from my mouth. “That’s me.”
“Right.” I flip open my notepad. “So. Question one. What’s your full name?”
“Jaxon Cole.”
I write it down even though my brain has already tattooed it somewhere inappropriate.
“Occupation?”
“Investor. Private holdings.” Then he pauses. His voice lowers. “You already know what I do with my hands.”
My pen freezes.
“Jaxon,” I whisper, horrified. “This is a professional interview.”
“And I’m answering honestly.”
He’s impossible.
“Okay,” I say tightly. “What do you look for in a partner?”
“You.”
My breath catches. “That’s not…, you can’t say, that’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer.” He steps closer, just a few inches, but it feels like the whole world tilts. “I know what I want.”
“No.” I hold my hand up like a traffic cop. “Absolutely not, this is not last night, this is work.”
His voice softens. “It can be both.”
“No, it can’t be both. That is literally the definition of a workplace hazard.”
He lifts a brow. “Are you filing a complaint?”
“Maybe!”
“Then file it after the interview,” he murmurs, brushing a finger along the edge of my notebook. “Finish your questions first.”
“Fine,” I say, possibly louder than necessary. “Next topic, Valentine’s Day, what does it mean to you?”
His eyes lock onto mine, slow and consuming. “It means the night I met you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “This is not productive.”
“It’s extremely productive for me.”
“Jaxon!”
He moves again, one step closer, then another. The air shifts, it's warm and electric, like a storm building behind my ribcage.
“Last night wasn’t supposed to happen,” I say, my voice unsteady. “It was a mistake.”
“Do you regret it?” he asks quietly.
My mouth opens. No sound comes out. He sees the truth anyway.
“I don’t,” he says. “Not for one second.”
I stand abruptly because sitting makes me too easy to corner. “I should go.”
“You’re not finished.”
“Yes, I am.”
His hand brushes my wrist; not grabbing, not controlling, just enough to stop me. The touch sends a bolt of heat through my entire body.
“Ruby,” he says, low and certain. “One night wasn’t enough.”
I suck in a breath. “You have to stop.”
“I can’t.”
“You’re my boss now.”
“I didn’t know who you were,” he says. “But now that I do, I’m not going to pretend last night didn’t mean something.”
“It didn’t,” I lie.
He steps closer, close enough to feel his breath. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that again.”
I do. I try. I fail.
Silence stretches between us, heavy and hungry.
Finally, he speaks.
“We’re not done,” he says, his voice soft but unbreakable. “I’m not done with you.”
I swallow hard. “I’m leaving now.”
“Ruby…”
“No.” My voice cracks. “If I stay, something will happen, and we can’t afford that.”
He watches me like every cell in his body wants to argue, but he lets me go.
I open the door, step into the hallway, and exhale shakily.
Ava is standing twenty feet away, holding a clipboard upside down.
“Holy shit,” she whispers. “You look like you just survived sex with your clothes on.”
“I need… air,” I mutter.
“You need hydration, therapy, a priest, and three days off work.”
I walk past her on trembling legs.
“What did he do?” she calls after me.
I don’t answer because I don’t have words.
And because she’s right… I absolutely survived something.
And I’m not sure I’ll survive the next round.