Chapter 13 Tessa
TESSA
The afternoon light slanted through the windows of Cross Capital's executive floor as I finished updating Lucian's calendar for the following week.
Four o'clock on a Thursday, and the office had that quiet hum of late-day productivity—phones ringing in distant cubicles, the soft clicks of keyboards, the occasional murmur of conversation from the conference rooms.
I was reviewing his travel itinerary for the Miami meetings when the elevator chimed.
I glanced up expecting to see Lucian returning from his back-to-back presentations with the infrastructure committee, but it wasn't him at all. Blake Cross had inherited his father's devilish good looks, but the dirty scowl on his face was never an expression I'd seen on Lucian's.
"Where's my father?" The demand came without acknowledgment that I was even human enough to deserve the basic courtesy of a cordial greeting.
I rose from my desk, smoothing my pencil skirt as I arranged my most professional smile. "Mr. Cross is in a meeting. They should wrap up in about twenty minutes. I'd be happy to let him know you're here." I flicked a glance at the clock, praying Lucian would finish more quickly.
After what happened last time Blake came in for a meeting, I wasn't keen on being alone with him.
Blake's pale eyes—so much like his father's but cold where Lucian's held warmth—swept over me with undisguised contempt. "I'll wait in his office."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. Company security protocols require that his office remain locked when he's not present.
I can set you up in the executive conference room, though.
It has an excellent view, and I can arrange for refreshments.
" I was already moving, rising to lead him to the conference room when he snapped at me.
"Security protocols?" Blake's laugh was snarky and caustic. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"
Heat crept up my neck, but I maintained my composure. "Of course, Mr. Cross. However, the protocols apply universally when Mr. Cross isn't available to personally authorize access."
"Unbelievable." Blake shook his head, his voice dripping with disgust. "The help actually thinks they're in charge now. This is exactly what Elena and I have been talking about."
His words were such an insult, I had a hard time holding my tongue.
As if everything I'd done—every crisis I'd managed, every late night I'd worked, every way I'd made his father's life smoother—meant nothing.
I was furniture to him, an obstacle standing between him and what he wanted.
My throat constricted as his dismissal settled over me. This was Lucian's son, his flesh and blood, the heir to everything he'd built.
If Blake saw me as nothing more than an uppity servant, how could I ever imagine that Lucian saw me differently?
The painful truth crashed over me in waves—I was twenty-six, working class, nobody special. Blake was a Cross, heir to billions. In his eyes, I would always be exactly what he'd called me—the help.
"The executive conference room has the same view as your father's office," I managed, gesturing toward the glass-walled space. "I can have facilities bring up anything you need."
Blake dropped into one of the chairs facing my desk instead, pulling out his phone while rolling his eyes. "I'll wait here. Try not to hover."
I sank back into my chair, my cheeks burning with humiliation. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to put him in his place, to remind him that I'd been keeping his father's schedule organized while he was spending trust fund money on whatever caught his fancy.
But the ugly truth was that Blake was fundamentally right about our positions. He was a Cross. I was an employee. He had birthright. I had a paycheck that could disappear tomorrow.
I'd spent months telling myself that what I felt for Lucian was impossible, ridiculous, a fantasy born of too much proximity and too little perspective.
But some pathetic part of me had started to hope that maybe he saw me as more than his competent assistant. Blake's cruelty reminded me exactly how naive that hope had been.
I tried to focus on my computer screen, updating expense reports and confirming appointments, but Blake's presence made my skin crawl.
Every few minutes, he'd sigh dramatically or make some comment about his father's scheduling priorities, as if I controlled the complexities of international business negotiations.
Each remark felt designed to remind me of my place in the hierarchy—far below him, far below anyone who actually mattered.
"Does he always keep family waiting this long?" Blake asked after checking his expensive watch for the third time.
"The meetings were scheduled weeks in advance," I replied evenly. "Time zone differences make rescheduling particularly challenging."
"Right. Because heaven forbid anything interrupt the almighty business schedule." Blake's tone was petulant. "Some things should take precedence over profit margins."
I bit back the response that rose in my throat—that his father had built this empire by understanding that every meeting, every client, every deal mattered.
That the "almighty business schedule" funded Blake's lifestyle and paid for the trust funds he lived off. Instead, I kept typing, hoping he'd get bored and leave.
"You know," Blake continued, clearly enjoying my discomfort, "Elena thinks Dad's been distracted lately. Making questionable decisions about who gets access to sensitive executive level information."
Blake and Elena had been discussing me, specifically, analyzing my interactions with their father, looking for evidence that I'd overstepped my boundaries. The knowledge made me feel exposed and vulnerable.
"Your father values competence and discretion," I said carefully. "He includes staff members who demonstrate both qualities."
"Staff members who know their place," Blake corrected. "The problem is when certain employees start thinking they're partners instead of hired help."
I was livid with his fresh insult and ready to bite his head off when the conference room doors finally opened and Lucian emerged. I felt my shoulders drop with relief.
He looked composed but tired, his tie still perfectly knotted despite the long afternoon.
But when his eyes found mine across the office, I saw that familiar warmth that made my traitorous heart skip despite everything.
"Blake." Lucian's voice carried a hint of wariness. He wasn't planning for this visit, or at least that was what his expression said. "This is unexpected."
Blake unfolded himself from the chair, brushing imaginary lint from his jacket. "We need to discuss the foundation board appointment. But first, your assistant and I had a disagreement about appropriate boundaries."
My stomach plummeted to the floor. "Mr. Cross, I was just explaining—"
"She refused to let me into your office," Blake continued, like the spoiled brat he was. "Cited some policy about security protocols, as if family needs permission to access their own legacy. Frankly, I think she's gotten above herself."
The blood drained from my face as humiliation crashed over me.
This was it—the moment Blake would force his father to choose between family loyalty and employee dignity.
And there was no question which way that choice would go. I was replaceable. Blake was blood.
Lucian's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and I wanted to disappear through the floor. "Tessa was following standard procedures. My office contains confidential client information. Access requires my direct authorization regardless of family relationships."
"She's an assistant, Dad, not a business partner.
" Blake's frustration sharpened his voice.
"There's a difference between doing her job and acting like she runs the place.
Elena and I have been talking about this—certain staff members seem to have developed an inflated sense of their importance around here. "
My eyes burned with unshed tears as the full scope of my foolishness became clear.
I'd been so busy falling in love with my boss that I'd forgotten the fundamental truth Blake was now shoving in my face—I was the help, and I'd forgotten my place.
"Blake." Warning edged Lucian's voice, but the damage was already done.
"Is it wrong, though? Because from where Elena and I sit, it looks like your staff has forgotten the chain of command. Maybe if you spent less time coddling employees and more time with your actual family, we wouldn't have these problems."
I wanted to sink through the floor rather than endure another second of this public humiliation.
"My staff understands their roles perfectly," Lucian said confidently. "What they don't need is lectures from someone who's never worked a day in his life."
Blake's face flushed red with anger, and I felt my face blanching. "Right. God forbid anyone questions the great Lucian Cross. Maybe if you'd put half as much energy into being a father as you do defending your precious company, your children wouldn't have to schedule appointments to see you."
I watched Lucian's composure crack just enough to reveal the guilt and pain underneath.
My heart broke for him, for the weight he carried, for the way his son wielded that burden as a weapon, because I knew how Lucian felt. That statement probably gutted him.
Blake stalked toward the elevator and the silence he left behind felt suffocating.
When we were finally alone, I stood on unsteady legs, my hands shaking as I gathered my things. "I should go home. Let you process what happened."
"Tessa." Lucian's voice was soft, weary. "I owe you an apology for that display."
"You don't." I was barely holding it together. "He's your son. He has every right to question how you run your business."
"He has no right to treat you with disrespect." Lucian loosened his tie with one hand as he continued. "Family doesn't excuse cruelty."
The kindness in his voice made my throat tight with emotion.