Chapter 3
CAYDEN
“Cayden? The documents for the stadium deal. Hayes sent over the new clauses.”
I don't turn around immediately. Instead, I inhale one last second of controlled silence before today’s theater begins.
Chloe enters the room with the silent precision of a predator.
Her ink-black hair is pulled into a tight bun; her outfit is expensive, tailored, and doesn't reveal an inch of skin.
“Put them on the table, Chloe. And tell Hayes he can shove his clauses where the sun doesn't shine if he tries to cut the minority shareholders' voting rights again. I’m not a charity.”
Chloe gives me a thin, professional smile.
She steps closer than necessary to set the tablet on the massive dining table of the presidential suite at The Pierre.
I’m surrounded by vast luxury—gold-plated fixtures and heavy brocade, soaked in the scent of lilies and decadent emptiness.
A golden cage for five thousand dollars a night that I barely notice anymore. People get used to anything.
Her hand brushes my sleeve as she moves. A familiar, calculated move.
“You seem tense,” she notes. “Should I reschedule the interview? The journalist is already waiting in the foyer, staring holes into the carpet.”
The bitter taste of stale espresso sits heavy on my tongue. “No. Let’s just get it over with.”
A few moments later, Jade enters, and the air in the room thickens instantly, like someone sucked out the oxygen.
She’s wearing a simple charcoal blazer and slim pants—armor that feels like a foreign object in this plush luxury.
Her hair is tied back, but a few stray strands have escaped to frame her face.
She looks tired, like she didn't get much sleep last night.
Beside her, Chloe suddenly looks like a computer-generated simulation—flawless and smooth, but completely lacking that raw, nervous energy radiating off Jade in waves.
I watch closely as Jade’s gaze shifts from me to Chloe. A tiny hitch in her movement gives her away. She registers the level of intimacy in the way my assistant stands next to my chair, hiding an instinctive territorial spark behind a mask of professional distance.
“Mr. Miller,” she says, her voice bordering on freezing.
“Miss Sterling. You’ve met my assistant, Chloe?”
“A pleasure,” Jade replies with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
Chloe lingers a second too long before retreating. Her gaze brushes my shoulder. “I’ll be outside if you need me, Cayden.”
Jade sits across from me at the table, crosses her legs, and pulls out an old-fashioned notebook. No tablet, no voice recorder. Just paper and ink. An analog anachronism in a digital world that fascinates me despite myself.
The door clicks shut. The sound echoes like a gunshot. We’re alone.
“Alex didn't tell me it was you,” I say, standing up to tower over her. “He spoke of a journalist from the Chronicle who wasn't afraid of a few bruises. He conveniently left out the name. Probably to save my blood pressure.”
“Maybe he knew you’d fold,” she answers firmly, though I hear a slight tremor in the lower frequencies of her voice. She’s stressed. Good.
“Fold? Me?” I look her over, blunt and unashamed.
Twelve years have narrowed her face; the soft features of the girl I knew have given way to a sharp beauty that grates on my nerves.
She radiates the hardened aura of someone who’s fought too many battles.
“I rarely turn down a challenge, Jade. You should know that. I eat them for breakfast.”
“It’s been a long time, Cayden. People change. Some develop a backbone; others just a bigger ego.”
“Eleven years and nine months,” I interject.
She doesn't flinch, but her eyebrows draw together slightly. Direct hit.
“You’ve been counting,” she notes.
“I’m good with numbers. It’s my job. Statistics don't lie.” A flat-out lie on my part. I hadn't counted until she stood before me in the arena yesterday. But now, being near her, my mind rewinds the time like an old film reel.
I walk over to the coffee table and pour myself some water. The heavy crystal cools my palm. I don't offer her any. We aren't friends.
“You’re a mother now,” I say, sitting back down across from her. “The boy yesterday. What was his name again?”
“Parker.”
“Nice name. Sounds like someone who knows how to bury a puck.”
Jade stiffens at the mention. Her shoulders square; her chin drops a fraction. The lioness is unsheathing her claws.
“Yes.”
“He has quite the eye for the game,” I continue, studying her every reaction. I want to provoke her, to peel back the layers of her hard-earned facade. “The way he analyzed the gaps in the defense—you don't teach that to an eleven-year-old. That’s in the blood. A natural talent.”
“He likes sports. That’s all.”
“Are you married?”
The question hangs heavy in the room. I have no right to ask it, but the answer burns like acid in my mind.
“No,” she says shortly.
“Divorced?”
“No.”
“The father?”
“Is not part of our lives. He simply doesn't exist.” Her eyes flash, sharp as cut glass. “I thought I was the one asking the questions? Or are you analyzing my marital status for the Royals' annual report? As far as I know, I’m here to write about your empire, not a relationship column.”
“I need to know if you can be bought, if you’re emotionally unstable, or if you have an agenda that has nothing to do with journalism.”
“My agenda is my job,” she hisses. “And I’m here because your partner, Alex, thought you desperately needed to look more human before anyone would sign a half-billion-dollar stadium deal with you. Apparently, he was right. You have the empathy of a freezer and the charm of a bulldozer.”
I let out a short laugh. A dry, humorless sound. “There she is. The Jade I know. I thought you’d left your fire in Montreal and traded it for boredom.”
She presses her lips into a thin line.
I lean back, stretching out my legs. “Fine. Alex wants an interview. A one-time conversation to smooth things over and show investors I’m not the unpredictable playboy who can't manage his image anymore. We’re playing ‘serious businessman’ for the public.”
A glance at my watch sets the limit. “I have two hours, Jade. Then I have a meeting regarding Hayes, where I have to stop him from gutting my team. So don't waste my time with sentimentality. Ask your questions.”
Jade opens her notebook. A slight tremor runs through her hands as she puts pen to paper, but she doesn't write a single syllable. She stares at me, her expression shifting from defensive to utter disbelief.
“What do you mean, two hours?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
“Is that not enough? You’re a pro. You should be able to deconstruct my ego in a hundred and twenty minutes. Others only need a sharp look.”
She sets the pen down. The hard clatter on the glass table rings in my ears like an oncoming avalanche.
“Cayden,” she starts, and for the first time, I hear genuine uncertainty in her tone. “Did you not read the contract Alex signed?”
I frown as a sticky, bad feeling spreads in my gut. “Alex handles the paperwork. I handle the strategy. What’s your point?”
She reaches into her bag, pulls out a folded envelope, and slides it across the table to me like an official declaration of war.
“It’s not a one-time conversation,” she says. She looks me straight in the eye, and I see a steely resolve that makes me shiver. “This isn't a coffee date.”
I take the envelope, open it, and skim the first page. The black letters dance before my eyes until they form sentences that freeze my stomach into liquid nitrogen.
Exclusive accompaniment. Unrestricted access. Documentation of the entire negotiation process on-site.
“What the hell is this?” I ask quietly, my voice sounding hollow.
“Alex sold the Chronicle an exclusive,” Jade replies. Her voice has steadied, carrying an almost triumphant note now. “I’m not just here for two hours, Cayden. I’m not just going to disappear.”
I let the paper drop, staring at her face, trying in vain to grasp the scale of this disaster.
“How long?” I ask, even though I already see the answer in black and white.
Jade takes a deep breath. “Thirty days.”
The silence that follows her words sucks the last bit of air out of the room.
“Thirty days,” I repeat. My mind simply refuses to accept the weight of that number. “You’re telling me you’re going to be with me for thirty days? In my office? At my meetings? In my private life?”
“That’s the deal. I’m your shadow, Cayden. And you can’t just shake off a shadow.”
I shove myself up so abruptly my chair nearly tips over. In a few strides, I reach the window, but I don't see the skyline. I only see my own reflection in the glass—hard, successful, and suddenly backed into a corner.
Right behind me, Jade’s reflection sits on her chair like a verdict I can no longer escape.
Thirty days. With her. Do I really want this?
Fuck.
Don’t stop now!
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