Chapter 7 Tessa
TESSA
I arrived at Cross Capital forty-five minutes earlier than usual, ready to prove my worth the way Lucian said I could.
The security guard nodded at me from behind his desk, accustomed to my early arrivals, though this morning was much earlier. Typically, I was here at a quarter 'til eight, not at seven.
My stomach twisted with anticipation and dread as the elevator carried me to the fortieth floor.
The executive suite was dark, the gunmetal sky out the picture windows not adding much light to the place.
I flicked on the lights and started my morning routine—brewing Lucian's coffee, reviewing his calendar, preparing briefing materials for his first meeting.
But the tasks were no competition for the lingering thoughts of what we did last weekend—what we'd done every evening this week as soon as the employees clocked out and his car got us to his penthouse.
How was I supposed to look him in the eye after all of that? After the way he'd made me feel?
Last week was difficult and I'd managed, but this morning, I found it hard to concentrate.
The arrangement we'd agreed upon seemed so clear in the heat of the moment, but I was beginning to question it.
The elevator chimed at eight fifteen, and my breath caught as Lucian stepped out, impeccably dressed, with hungry eyes sweeping over me.
His silver hair was perfectly styled, his expression neutral as his pale gray eyes swept the reception area. When his gaze returned to mine, the hungry, almost predatory way he looked for that split second was gone.
Nothing.
Now only his professional, plastic smile remained. "Good morning, Miss Wynn." He kept walking past me like any other morning, and for some reason, part of me wilted. "I'll need the Henderson files on my desk in ten minutes, and please confirm my two o'clock with the Morgan team."
"Of course, Mr. Cross." The formality felt foreign after the way he'd said my name last night as he came so hard his body twitched for two full minutes. "Your coffee is on your desk, and I've pulled the quarterly reports you requested."
He nodded and disappeared into his office without a backward glance. I stood frozen for a moment, my hands trembling as I reached for the Henderson files.
Had I imagined the connection between us? The way he'd looked at me with such intensity, as if I were the only woman in the world?
And if I hadn't, how on Earth was he so good at putting all of that connection into a box and packing it away for work hours?
I wasn't going to survive this.
The morning crawled by as painfully normal as it could be. Lucian emerged for meetings, dictated correspondence, and handled phone calls the way he'd done the past few years of my working for him.
Not once did his eyes linger on mine longer than necessary.
Not once did his fingers brush against mine when I handed him documents.
By noon, frustration and confusion warred in my chest. I'd been foolish to think things could be simple between us.
The professional distance felt jarring after the intimacy we'd shared, even if it was the way it was supposed to be.
This was the exact messy situation I'd hoped to avoid by refraining from intimate relationships and doing IVF on my own.
The intercom buzzed and startled me, and Lucian's voice rumbled out of the speaker at me. "Miss Wynn, please come to my office."
I smoothed my pencil skirt as I stood and walked toward his office, then knocked on his door. "Come in," he called, and I felt my pulse flutter.
Lucian stood behind his desk, reviewing a contract. When I entered, he glanced up briefly before moving to close the door behind me, which made my heart race.
"Sit." His voice had changed, becoming warmer, more personal. The transformation was subtle but after the agonizing day I'd had, I recognized the shift.
I took the chair across from his desk, watching as he rounded it to lean against the edge. This close, I could smell his cologne, could see the way his shirt pulled across his chest.
"I want to be clear about expectations," he began, his gray eyes finally meeting mine with the intensity I'd been craving all morning. "When we're in the office, we maintain complete professionalism. No one can suspect anything beyond a normal working relationship."
Relief flooded through me. So he hadn't forgotten or dismissed what was growing between us.
"I understand," I managed, but he had to have noticed the glimmer of hope I felt. I had a horrible poker face.
"However," he continued, "I've been thinking about our conversation regarding your career development. You're wasted in an assistant role, Tessa. You have the intelligence and instincts for much more."
The use of my first name had warmth spreading through me, but in respecting his wishes, I kept my face stoic. "I'd be interested in any opportunity to grow professionally."
"Good. I have a lunch reservation at Le Bernardin at one.
" He checked his watch, but I already knew how soon that was.
"We'll discuss specific ways I can mentor you—bringing you into client meetings as my analyst, having you review investment proposals, teaching you deal-making strategies.
" He moved closer, his voice dropping. "It's a legitimate business lunch, but it also gives us time together without raising suspicion. "
I didn't know why it sent a thrill through me, but I felt my cheeks flush as I stood. "I'll be prepared to leave when you're ready, unless you'd prefer we arrive separately."
"Nonsense," he said, sinking onto the corner of his desk as he let his eyes wander for the first time. They landed on my chest where a bit too much cleavage was currently showing, then his gaze flicked back up. "We'll take the company car and meet out front in thirty minutes."
I walked out with a skip in my step, and this time, it wasn’t because of Lucian. I was genuinely excited to have this opportunity.
The restaurant was everything I'd expected—elegant, expensive, intimidating.
Crystal glasses caught the light from massive windows overlooking the city.
I'd never eaten anywhere this upscale, and I tried not to gawk at the elaborate floral arrangements and pristine white tablecloths.
Lucian ordered wine without consulting me, and I was surprised he was drinking on the job. But he knew what he wanted, always, and that confidence was magnetic.
For the first hour while we snacked on appetizers and received our dinner, we discussed market strategies, valuation methods, and risk assessment.
His questions were probing, challenging, designed to test my understanding.
I found myself leaning forward, energized by the intellectual stimulation. This was what I'd been craving.
The chance to prove my capabilities went beyond scheduling meetings, answering phones, and making coffee.
"You have excellent instincts," he said as he cut the last few bits of his fish. "Most people see numbers and stop there. You see the story behind them, the human element that drives market behavior."
"I've always been interested in the psychology of investing. Why people make irrational decisions even when the data suggests it's too risky."
"Exactly. That understanding is what separates good analysts from exceptional ones.
" He paused, his eyes fixed on mine. "I have a business dinner tonight with potential clients from Tokyo.
Join me as my junior analyst." His hands folded on the table in front of him, and while I knew this was a business thing, It felt very personal.
A rush of adrenaline gave my heart a jolt, though I tried to keep my expression neutral. Opportunities like this didn't just appear.
Lucian was offering me something that as an assistant, I shouldn’t have. But I didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty accepting it. "That sounds like an excellent learning opportunity."
"Seven thirty at Eleven Madison Park. Wear something professional but memorable. These clients appreciate attention to detail."
I felt giddy inside, and it probably showed on my face too, but he called for the check, just as professional now as he'd been in the office.
My heart was on cloud nine for the rest of the day until I overheard things I didn't think I was supposed to and it left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I was organizing client files near the copy machine when voices drifted from around the corner. James Ellery and another senior associate whose name I couldn't remember were discussing something in low tones.
"Did you see how Cross took his assistant to lunch?" James's voice carried a note of speculation that piqued my curiosity. Lucian and I had been very careful, so hearing them talking about me had me on edge. "She's getting awfully cozy with the boss."
I almost scoffed audibly. I knew the truth was that Lucian and I were crossing lines, but we'd been nothing but professional in the office.
These men were trash talking without any reason to suspect things. It was my worst nightmare, and that made it all the more difficult to stand there listening, but I couldn’t walk away without knowing what they'd say.
"My friend at Goldman said their assistants never get that kind of access," the other man replied. "Fancy restaurant in the middle of the day? Something's definitely going on."
My hands stilled on the files. They were talking about me, about my lunch with Lucian. The professional facade we thought we'd maintained had already attracted attention.
"I mean, look at her," James continued. "She's attractive enough, and Cross has been single for years. Wouldn't be the first time a powerful man mixed business with pleasure."
"Dangerous game for both of them. The board doesn't tolerate that kind of scandal, especially not with everything else happening with the Henderson acquisition."
Their voices faded as they moved away, but I remained frozen by the copy machine, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I had been nothing but professional, yet somehow, people were already talking.
What would happen when our arrangement progressed?
When we started spending more time together as he mentored me?
The files slipped from my numb fingers, scattering across the floor. As I knelt to gather them, panic clawed at my throat. Everything I'd feared was already beginning. The whispers, the speculation, the judgment. And we'd barely begun.
How long before those whispers reached the wrong ears? Before someone with real power decided I was a liability?
I thought about my small apartment, my careful savings, my dreams of motherhood that depended on this job.
The elevator chimed, and I scrambled to my feet, clutching the files against my chest. Lucian emerged and his eyes narrowed as he took in my flushed face and shaking hands.
"Miss Wynn. Is everything all right?"
"Yes, sir. Just organizing some documents." The lie tasted bitter on my tongue.
His gray eyes studied me for a long moment, and I wondered if he could see the fear written across my features.
"Alright, I'll see you this evening," he said, lingering for a few more seconds with a dark expression on his face before walking away.
I hated that my anxiety got triggered so quickly. I took a minute to try to collect myself and I picked up the rest of the scattered papers.
I would have to tell him tonight what I overheard, and both of us would have to be way more professional and careful at work.
I couldn't afford to lose this job because people spread rumors about me.