Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
CASSY
The office is in chaos. Every manager and department head is in the conference room with Mr. Bowers. Men in dark suits have invaded with carts of storage boxes. I struggle to comprehend the drama, but the abrupt severance of our network access is a glaring clue.
All the departments are bombarding me with calls, demanding answers about what’s happening. Usually, I’m the one everyone relies on to solve problems. I have to uncover the truth behind this chaos. My phone jolts with an incoming text. I glance at it to see it’s from Tammy, Richard’s assistant.
What is going on? ~ T
I don’t know. Have you heard or seen anything out of the ordinary? ~ B
Well, this hot guy blew by my desk a little while ago, and afterward, Mr. Bower left the office. ~ T
Is the guy still in the office? ~ B
I don’t know; I am doing my nails. ~ T
I shake my head at her comment. Tammy’s attitude is consistently inattentive. Even now, I’m uncertain why Mr. Bower hired her.
Trying to determine Mr. Bower’s reasons for hiring Tammy will not help solve the mystery at hand.
I’ve got to come up with a plan. The first priority is getting the computers back online.
Pulling up my group text list, I message all the building admins, asking them to report anything unusual.
Minutes pass without any response. I can’t handle another weird problem. Okay, I can do this.
“Ms. Lincoln.”
I jump and turn to see Liam standing behind me. He is fairly new, and I haven’t interacted with him much. Over the months he has been here, he has been polite but standoffish. Always quiet but observant.
“Liam, how many times have I told you to call me Cassy?”
His lips turn up in a sly smile. “Oh, a lot. Cassy, you are needed in Mr. Bower’s office.”
I look down at my phone, feeling a small twist of confusion. I hadn’t missed a call or text from him. Why didn’t Mr. Bower just call me instead of sending Liam to relay the message? Frustration and anxiety build in my chest. If the CEO wanted me, I needed to get to his office without delay.
“Thanks, Liam, for letting me know.”
“Ms. Lincoln…I mean, Cassy, I was instructed to escort you to Mr. Bower’s office.” He offers me his arm with a smile. Why was he smiling, and why would Mr. Bower ask him to escort me?
“Oh, okay.” I slip my arm through his, and we head toward the office. As we turn the corner, I see Tammy isn’t at her desk. Damn it, why can’t she stay put? Liam drops my arm and pushes open the door. “Thank you, Liam.”
“You are very welcome, Cassy.”
Before entering, I rap my knuckles on the door and call out, “Mr. Bowers?” Silence greets me.
Hmm, maybe he’s tied up on a call. I push the door open and step inside.
Over the years I have worked for the company, I have only been in Mr. Bower’s office a few times.
The building exterior still held the glory of its architectural beginnings.
However, the interior is modern and ugly.
Why would anyone cover up the beautiful Art déco lines this building was built with?
Mr. Bower’s office isn’t decorated like the rest of the building.
No, his office is floor-to-ceiling dark wood.
I step further into the office and gasp.
Instead of Mr. Bowers, the man from the elevator leans casually against the desk.
I freeze, heat rising to my cheeks as his jacket hangs open, revealing a crisply tailored shirt that clings to his sculpted chest and defined abs.
My gaze drifts downward, heart pounding, captivated by the snug fit of his trousers, which leaves little to the imagination with the massive outline of his cock.
My heart skips a beat at the sight, and I desperately try to look away, swallowing hard.
I’ve never seen one in the flesh, but I’m no stranger to what they look like.
After all, I have my well-stocked spank bank videos and trusty vibrator, powered with a bulk supply of batteries from Costco.
“Ms. Lincoln, please have a seat,” the God of the man says, waving his hand to the office chair in front of him.
I know I must look distracted by his presence, and I wonder if he notices—my pulse quickens and my cheeks feel warm. Taking a deep breath and putting on one of my best smiles, I walk over to the chair. I sit down, crossing my ankles because a proper lady never crosses her legs.
My gaze reluctantly shifts from the breathtaking view of his chiseled physique to his striking features.
Earlier in the elevator, I found him attractive, but I underestimated his true allure.
High cheekbones, piercing green eyes, a jawline sculpted by the gods—he resembled a living Adonis.
I shake myself mentally, trying to break out of the reverie and focus on discovering his identity.
There was something eerily familiar about him, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
“Hello. It seems you know my name, but I don’t know yours.”
A smile curves up his lips before he rises and walks around the desk. “Well, Ms. Lincoln, my name is Edward Carson.”
A gasp leaves my mouth. This is Edward Carson, the owner and founder of Carson Enterprises. He is one of the world's top five richest men and is known for hostile takeovers of failing companies. Then it hits me what is happening today. Bower Holdings is being taken over by Carson Enterprises.
Although this news should have been a shock, it wasn’t.
For years, the company’s financial reports had shown it slipping deeper into debt.
I had always hoped that Richard would finally recognize the source of the problem and identify who was siphoning funds and on what extravagant ventures.
I had painstakingly compiled a detailed report highlighting the glaring excesses in expenditures and slipped it under Richard’s office door, hoping he would take action.
But he remained passive, ignoring the warnings and allowing Chad to continue unchecked.
“You are taking over Bower Holdings.”
“I knew you were the bright one among all these idiots. Yes, I took over Bower Holdings a few hours ago.”
A wave of dread hits. What will I do now? I may have to search for a job with no references, which will be nearly impossible. I might have to use my retirement fund to get by. I need to maintain my composure. Edward Carson will not see me fall apart.
Steadying my nerves, I stand up and look him in the eye. “Thank you for telling me. I will be out of the building in fifteen minutes.”
I turn slowly and walk to the door. Dread weighs down each step, my determination warring with the aching urge to break down and cry.
The gym class memory from ninth grade surges into my mind, reminding me of a day when public humiliation had shattered my composure.
I fight to keep my emotions in check as a familiar stinging threatens behind my eyes, desperate not to let the tears win now.
It was my first day in ninth grade, and as fate would have it, I was in the gym class with only skinny cheerleaders and dance squad girls. I was at my locker changing out of gym clothes back into my leggings and oversized top when I heard the loud, ear-piercing high voices on the other side.
“Did you see the size of her ass?” one girl said.
“Yeah. I didn’t know they made gym shorts to fit that much fat,” another girl giggled.
I waited until they left before slipping out and going to the office, pretending to be sick so my mom could pick me up.
At home, I cried until there were no tears left.
Then I promised myself I would never cry again.
I knew I’d never be skinny, but I’d be healthy.
The next day, even as they laughed at me, I didn’t run away again.
When my parents died on 9/11, I was totally devastated, but I didn’t break my promise to myself.
I’m just inches from the door when a strong hand grips my arm—not painfully, but with a searing intensity that startles me.
Jolts of heat radiate from his touch, shooting through my nerves and turning my resolve into a sudden, inexplicable yearning.
The sensation is so intense and bewildering that I freeze, heart hammering, as I whip around and meet a pair of piercing green eyes.
For a moment, the shock and confusion are overwhelming.
“Ms. Lincoln, please come back over and sit down.” His voice is full of concern and something else.
I swallow back the threat of my tears and walk back to the chair. His hand leaves my arm, but places it on the small of my back.
“I think we will be more comfortable on the couch for this discussion.” He directs me toward the leather couch near the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city.
“Okay.”
We sit down on either end. I take a deep breath and turn toward him.
“Ms. Lincoln.”
I relish the sound of my name from his lips before whatever this bubble bursts. “Cassy, please call me Cassy.”
A warm, genuine smile slowly spreads across his face, transforming his features and deepening the creases at the corners of his eyes, like tiny sunlit valleys etched into his skin. My fingers itch to trace those lines, to feel the history and what they represent.
“Cassy. As I was saying, you are the brightest one among the idiots who worked here. For months, I have planned this takeover, spending countless hours researching and determining what caused this company’s demise.
This knowledge lets me know what to keep and what to sell off.
However, the actual company wasn’t the only thing I researched.
I also gained information concerning every employee. ”
“Even me?”
“Oh yes, even you,” he says with that damn sexy smirk again.
“May I ask what kind of information?”
“A very detailed report. I had one of my trusted right-hand men obtain a job here so he could have direct eyes on all the innerworkings of the employees.”
“You had a spy here? For how long?”
“Three months.”
My mind races with thoughts of who was hired three months ago.
There was the guy who worked in the mailroom for two weeks before telling Chad to take his mail and stick it up his ass.
Then there was the girl hired in accounting, who left the same day without explanation.
The last person hired was Liam. He was in marketing.
Liam was friendly but interacted little with other employees.
But thinking back, I should have noticed how he was always around, listening and watching. “Liam. He is the guy you sent in.”
“Again, I knew you would figure it out. Yes, Liam is the guy I sent in. He is very good at what he does. Cassy, I don’t get to say this often, but you surprised me. You have something I admire.”
“What?”
“Common sense and drive. You think on your feet. When a problem arises, you look at it from all angles before coming up with a solution. I know you didn’t go to college, and I think that was smart.
You don’t need a college degree to be successful.
You have a sharp mind for the stock market and are wise enough to reinvest instead of wasting your profits. ”
I am shocked by his little speech. This is Edward Carson, the Edward Carson. His business sense is legendary, and here he is sitting here complimenting little old me…well, not really little. “Thank you. What is going to happen from here on out?”
“First and foremost, I want to bring you on board at Carson Enterprises.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I am moving all my US operations to this building.”
“Wow.” This is huge. A few minutes ago, I thought I was without a job, and now I was going to be part of one of the most significant transitions in Carson Enterprises’ history.
One of the things I enjoyed most was reading financial magazines and reports.
I read many articles about Edward Carson and how he built his company with the hundred dollars his grandfather had given him on the day he turned eighteen.
Even while he was in college, he was already building his stock portfolio.
Before he even graduated with a master’s degree in business, his company had already made its first million, and six months after graduation, his company made the Forbes top five companies in the United States.
From there, Edward Carson built his enterprise at an unheard-of rate.
Carson Enterprises had offices all across the country and the world.
I can’t believe he wants me to work for him.
“I am sure you have the transition all mapped out, but I would like to help in any way you need me.”
The smoldering intensity in his piercing green eyes ignited a fiery jolt of pleasure deep within me, an uncontainable force that seared through my veins.
My desire, raw and relentless, seeped through every pore, culminating in an overwhelming yearning for him I could no longer hide.
I tore my gaze away from his commanding stare just in time, stifling the desperate moan that threatened to erupt from my lips.
How could I possibly maintain my composure and work alongside this irresistible force of nature?
I could coordinate a massive conference for a thousand attendees in just seven days, with every detail meticulously planned out from seating arrangements to catering menus.
Yet, when it came to interacting with a man on an individual level, I found myself at a loss.
Men seemed uninterested in a woman of my size.
So here I stand at twenty-five, still holding my virginity.
Suddenly, I feel a finger under my chin, gently lifting my face. My heart races with both fear and longing as I struggle to meet those eyes. I can’t bear the intensity, yet something inside me yearns for the connection. Torn, I close my eyes, seeking refuge in the darkness.
“Cassy,” he murmurs, his warm breath brushing across my already heated face. “Open your eyes.”
No matter how much I want to keep them closed, hearing his deep husky voice commanding me to open them, I obey.
The fire I saw earlier was nothing compared to what was in his eyes now.
I watch as he takes a deep breath in, and when he does, his nostrils flare.
Can he smell my arousal? I can’t allow my foolish attraction to him to impede my work performance.
“I have lots of plans for you,” he says as he brushes his thumb along my jaw.
Damn, what did he have planned, and better yet, did I have enough panties to get through it?