Chapter 15
TESSA
After a long weekend in Miami, I settled behind my desk, happy to be back at work and in my routine.
But the office buzzed with tension that hadn’t been here when Lucian and I had left on Thursday afternoon.
He had meetings all week, back to back and butting right up to a board presentation on Friday.
I knew we wouldn't see much of each other this week, but with the work I had to catch up, I'd been okay with it.
But the way people were whispering and their conversations dropped to a lower volume or ceased entirely every time I walked past made me feel sick to my stomach.
I carried an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach after Blake's rude treatment a few weeks ago, and this wasn't helping at all.
"Morning, Tessa." Sarah from Accounting stopped by my desk, her smile a touch too bright. "How was Miami? I heard the client presentation went really well."
"It did. Mr. Cross was pleased with the outcome." I kept my response professional, but Sarah's eyes held a gleam of curiosity that made my stomach tighten.
Lucian had gone into those meetings believing they would dissolve into nothingness, but my research and strategic delivery of updated facts had salvaged the partnership, something that had Lucian and me celebrating afterward.
The sentiment seemed to not be shared around the office as thoroughly.
"That's wonderful. You've been traveling with him quite a bit lately, haven't you? The Boston trip, now Miami. Must be exciting to see that side of the business."
There was something in her tone—not accusatory, exactly, but probing.
As if she were fishing for information. I tried not to squirm under her scrutiny.
I knew it wasn't common for assistants to attend business trips with C-suite level executives, but Lucian was treating me like one of the team, one of his analysts.
"The client meetings require detailed preparation," I said carefully. "Mr. Cross values having support staff who understand the full scope of each deal."
Sarah nodded, but her expression remained calculating. "Of course. Well, it's great to see hard work being recognized. Not everyone gets that kind of… mentorship." That last word came out as bitter as the coffee in the staff breakroom, and I had to bite back my response.
After she left, I tried to focus on my tasks, but the conversation nagged at me.
The way she said "mentorship" felt like a stab at my ethics, as if Sarah suspected there was more to my recent responsibilities than professional development.
Of course, I knew there was, but there was no proof of anything outside of the real mentorship Lucian was providing for me. They were spreading rumors with no facts and it made me squirm because I knew the truth.
By mid-morning, my unease had solidified into genuine anxiety. Walking past the break room to deliver files to the CFO's office, I caught fragments of a conversation between two analysts from the investment team.
"—suddenly, she's sitting in on executive meetings—"
"—went from answering phones to presenting to clients?—"
"—rapid advancement is suspicious, if you ask me—"
I froze outside the doorway with my heart hammering. They were talking about me, dissecting my recent visibility in client meetings as if it was evidence of something inappropriate rather than recognition of that which I was capable.
Lucian would tear them limb from limb, but he wasn't here, and standing up for myself had never been my strong suit.
"—Cross has always been professional before—"
"—but she's attractive, and he's been divorced for years—"
"—wouldn't be the first time a boss got personally involved with staff—"
I cringed inwardly as I listened. Maybe they didn't know details, but they suspected something beyond professional interest was driving my increased responsibilities.
It didn't matter how careful Lucian and I were "on the clock" if people were already drawing their own conclusions.
I forced myself to continue walking, delivering the files to Daniel with hands that trembled slightly.
The rest of the morning passed in a haze of paranoia, every glance feeling scrutinizing, every casual conversation seeming to carry double meanings.
At lunch, I met Jamie at our usual cafe three blocks from the office.
She was one of the few people at Cross Capital I considered a genuine friend, someone who'd started around the same time I had and understood the challenges of being a young woman in the intensely masculine world of high-stakes finance.
We met at the counter to place our orders but barely said more than a hello until we found a table that was unoccupied.
"You look stressed," Jamie said as we settled into our booth with salads and iced tea. "Everything okay?"
"Just the usual chaos. You know how it is." I opened the plastic container for my salad but had no appetite after the amount of nervous energy my body had been fighting all morning. "How are things in Marketing?"
"Busy. We're launching that new institutional client campaign next month." Jamie studied my face and didn't seem satisfied with my answer.
We weren't super close, but she knew me well enough to be able to read me. "You sure you're all right? You seem… different lately."
"Different how?"
"I don't know. You've been in a lot more meetings, traveling with Cross. It's great to see you getting recognized for your abilities." She paused, and as she did her eyes dropped so she wasn't looking at me anymore. "Must be nice to have such a supportive boss."
There it was again—that particular emphasis that suggested something inappropriate was going on. And this time, it was coming from a friend.
My cheeks burned but I had no desire to turn this into a debate where I had to defend my position, which was clearly a lie. I was sleeping with him and it appeared I had a giant sign on my forehead that said as much.
"Mr. Cross recognizes competence when he sees it," I said, picking up my fork. I had recited that line a dozen times this morning already, but now it tasted like bile.
"Of course he does. And you're definitely competent.
" Jamie's smile was warm but knowing. And her expression beyond that felt sympathetic, like she was hearing the same rumors and giving me a warning.
"I'm just saying, not everyone gets the kind of opportunities you've been getting lately.
Personal attention from the CEO isn't exactly standard career development. "
I almost started to cry because she was too close to the truth I couldn't admit.
Shame made a knot tighten in my gut and I changed the subject to her dating life, desperate to steer the conversation away from my increasingly complicated professional situation.
She let me guide the conversation to safer ground, but I was unnerved by that point. I didn't remember a thing she said because my mind was being swarmed by angry and fearful thoughts.
When I returned to the office, Lucian was back from a lunch meeting with Elena—his second one in as many weeks.
The moment I saw him, I knew something had gone wrong. His usual composed demeanor had been replaced by guarded tension, his jaw set. He walked past my desk without his customary greeting, disappearing into his office and closing the door a little too loudly.
I waited fifteen minutes before knocking, and even still, I felt nervous to do so.
I opened it when he called for me to come in, but he looked visibly frustrated, hunched over his desk with his tie loosened uncharacteristically.
"Mr. Cross? Your two o'clock appointment with the pension fund representatives is confirmed. Do you need me to prepare anything specific?"
"Cancel it," he said without looking up from his desk. "Cancel everything for this afternoon. I'm working from home."
The abrupt change in schedule was unusual enough, but his tone alarmed me more.
Lucian never cancelled client meetings without compelling reasons, and he certainly never fled the office in the middle of a workday.
"Is everything all right?" I asked, stepping into his office despite the clear dismissal in his posture. I shut the door behind me because something told me this was going to turn personal, and after the day I'd been having, I didn't want anyone to overhear any of it.
He finally looked at me, and I saw exhaustion in his gray eyes. "Family issues. Nothing that concerns the office."
"Lucian—"
"I need you to reschedule the meetings and handle any urgent calls. Send everything else to Daniel." He was already gathering papers from his desk, clearly preparing to leave. "I'll be reachable by phone if there are emergencies."
The wall between us felt impenetrable, professional distance reasserting itself after the intimacy we'd shared in Miami.
I wanted to ask what Elena had said and offer comfort or support, but his body language made it clear that he'd retreated into the role of CEO and expected me to remain in my position as assistant.
"Of course," I said quietly. "I'll take care of everything."
He nodded curtly and left without another word, leaving me standing in his empty office with a growing sense of dread.
Whatever Elena had discussed with him during lunch had shaken him badly enough to abandon his usual ironclad self-control.
The afternoon crawled by and I rescheduled his meetings, fielded calls from clients, and managed the usual crises that arose when the CEO was unexpectedly unavailable.
But my mind kept circling back to the morning's overheard conversations and Lucian's sudden departure.
The gossip I'd heard, Elena's mysterious request for a family meeting, Lucian's obvious distress—the pieces formed a picture I didn't want to see.
His children suspected something.
Maybe his ex-wife had heard rumors. Maybe the entire Cross family was discussing my inappropriate relationship with their patriarch.
The thought made me physically ill. I was closer in age to Blake and Elena than to their father.
If they saw me as a gold-digger or an opportunist, could I really blame them?