Chapter 9 Ruby
Ruby
Imake it to my desk without face-planting, crying, or screaming, which honestly feels like a personal victory.
Ava, Sienna, and Trey track me like a pride of lions watching a baby gazelle prance directly into danger. I give them all my “I will kill you in your sleep” glare and sit down before my knees buckle.
I open my laptop.
I type nothing.
My fingers hover over the keys like they’ve forgotten how letters work. Behind my eyes, the café plays on loop, like a cursed 4K IMAX replay:
Jaxon leaning in.
Jaxon staring at my mouth.
Jaxon saying he wants more than one night.
Jaxon calling me beautiful like it was a casual observation AND a threat.
My thighs clench involuntarily.
“NO,” I whisper at my body. “Stop doing that.”
The body is unbothered, and the body is a traitor.
“Ruby?”
I jump ten feet. It’s Evan, Navy Suit Guy, leaning over my partition with a smile that’s way too curious for comfort.
“Oh. Hi.” I fake a smile that I’m 98% sure looks like pain. “What’s up?”
“Just checking on you,” he says lightly. “You looked… distracted.”
Distracted? No, I’m haunted. I’m spiritually inconvenienced. I’m being hunted by a billionaire with a jawline engineered for corruption.
“I’m fine,” I say too quickly.
Evan tilts his head. “You sure? Because you left the café with Mr. Cole. And then he…”
“He what?” I snap before I can stop myself.
Evan blinks at my tone. “He looked… concerned. Or frustrated. Hard to tell.”
I swallow. “Well, it was just an interview follow-up.”
“Right.” Evan smiles again, the kind of smile that says I absolutely don’t believe you, but okay. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m around.”
“Talk about what?”
He shrugs. “Whatever’s going on.”
NOTHING IS GOING ON.
EVERYTHING IS GOING ON.
I force another smile. “I appreciate that, Evan. Really. But I’m good.”
“Okay.” He steps back. “Let me know if you need anything.”
The moment he walks away, I release a breath that could power a hot-air balloon.
I scrub my hands over my face.
Okay.
Ruby.
Focus.
Focus on work.
Focus on not thinking about the way Jaxon looked at you.
Focus on the deadline.
Focus on breathing like a functioning adult.
I open my document.
I stare at the blank page.
The blank page stares back in judgment.
I type:
“Welcome to the annual Valentine’s Desire Issue, where..."
I stop.
I delete.
I type:
“Love is..."
Delete.
I type:
“Sex is..."
Delete.
I type:
“Jaxon Cole is ruining my life.”
DELETE DELETE DELETE DELETE.
This is impossible.
I decide to stand and walk it off, because movement is good, right? Movement clears the mind. Movement distracts me from… I turn a corner and almost slam chest-first into him.
Jaxon.
He’s standing in the hallway talking to someone from corporate, but the second he sees me, his attention snaps away like the conversation wasn’t even happening.
His gaze drags over me, slow and intentional, like he’s checking for cracks.
I freeze.
He excuses himself from the corporate dude and steps toward me.
“Ruby,” he says softly.
I can’t breathe.
“Hi,” I manage, sounding suspiciously like someone who has forgotten how vowels work.
His eyes search mine. “You okay?”
I nod way too fast. “Yes. Totally. Absolutely. Fine. Great.”
“You’re lying again.”
“Please stop calling me a liar.”
He lowers his voice. “Then stop lying.”
I swear my legs almost buckle.
I clear my throat. “I need to… get back to work.”
His voice warms. “Then go.”
I start to move past him, but he speaks again.
“Ruby.”
I stop.
“Dinner,” he says.
My heart stops. “No.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t.”
I turn around. “We can’t.”
He steps closer, not touching, not inappropriate, just enough to tilt the world slightly off its axis.
“You’re scared,” he murmurs. “That’s fine. I can be patient.”
“I’m not scared..."
“You are.” His eyes soften. “But you’ll still come.”
My throat is sandpaper. “I will not.”
He smiles slightly. “I’ll text you the address.”
“You don’t have my number.”
His smile widens. “Ruby… I own the company.”
MY brAIN LEAVES MY BODY.
“I’m not going,” I whisper.
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m..."
He leans in, voice low enough to melt the floor.
“I’ll see you tonight.”
He walks away, leaving me with a heartbeat that might qualify as a medical emergency.
I stand there gripping my folder like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality as the Nasty Nine peek around the corner like deranged meerkats.
Ava gasps dramatically. Sienna fans herself with someone’s report. Trey mouths the words: YOU’RE SO FUCKED.
I am. I absolutely am.
And the worst part?
I’m not even sure I want to be saved.