Chapter 26 Itchy and Hollow
Jasper White's heart leapt into his throat.
Even through the phone, he could feel the murderous vibe radiating from the other end. Had he just ruined Mason Reed's night?
He glanced at his watch and slapped his forehead. Damn it! If someone interrupted his good time, he'd want to tear them apart too.
"Third Master..." Jasper forced a nervous laugh, scrambling to smooth things over. "I wouldn't call this late unless it was urgent. I figured you weren't asleep yet..."
"Cut to it!" Mason growled, stomping out to the balcony and slamming the sliding door shut behind him.
"Central City's buzzing," Jasper said, dropping his voice. "Word's out you're alive. Your granddad's over the moon, and your folks—they're..."
"Got it," Mason cut in, his brow furrowing. "I'll reach out to them quietly, but heading back to Central City? That's on hold."
Jasper blinked, confused, but mumbled an "Oh" anyway.
"Oh, and Third Master," he perked up, "I dug into your wife's sales run today. That client she met? Stacy Chen chased it for three months and got nowhere. I pulled a few strings—boom, Clara landed the deal. Nice commission too—ten grand in her pocket!"
Mason's temper flared. He hung up mid-ramble, leaving Jasper staring at a dead line.
Jasper poured a drink for Chase Ye, rattled. "What'd I say wrong this time?"
Chase nearly choked laughing. "You crashed his party, genius. You think he's thrilled?"
Jasper groaned, smacking his own cheek. "And bragging about Clara's deal?"
"What about it?" Jasper gaped. "Did I screw up again?"
Chase sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Stacy couldn't close that client in three months, and Clara, a rookie, swoops in? Office gossip's gonna have a field day. Everyone'll be spinning stories about her."
Jasper went blank.
"Plus," Chase added, "I saw Clara's pitch. Textbook perfect. That CEO would've signed with or without your 'strings.' Her win's all hers—you just stuck your nose in it."
Jasper's face crumpled, a mix of regret and despair.
"Think before you open your mouth next time," Chase said, patting his shoulder. "Man, I should've gone to med school—maybe I could've fixed that brain of yours."
Mason leaned against the balcony railing, his deep eyes blending into the night, unreadable. A cool breeze swept in, clearing his head. After a moment, he turned back inside. Clara wasn't in the bedroom anymore. He wandered the house, catching the faint hum of the washer from the bathroom.
She looked up as he stepped in, flashing a shy smile that dimpled her cheeks. Avoiding his gaze, she sorted the laundry—machine-wash from hand-wash—then murmured, "You head to bed. I'll finish this."
Mason let out a quiet sigh, but inside, he was screaming. That rush of heat from earlier had crashed in like a tidal wave, only to get snuffed out. Now he had to choke it back down.
It was torture—like ants crawling under his skin, itchy and hollow all at once.
But he couldn't act like some sleaze, dragging her back to bed, could he?
So he forced a smile, shuffled to the living room, and flopped onto the couch, yanking the blanket over his head like a shield.
Word of Clara Bennett's big sale spread like wildfire through Rainbow Trade Co.. Even the sales team vets started eyeing her with new respect. Zero deals her first two months, then bam—a massive win out of nowhere. A real Cinderella story.
At the weekly sales meeting, the director singled her out, praising her "limitless potential" and tossing her a bonus check to boot. Clara stayed cool-headed, quietly sizing up the room.
Some congrats were genuine. Some applause was fake as hell.
Then there was Stacy Chen, her jealousy loud and proud.
Clara didn't care about any of it. She just watched the numbers climb in her bank account.
"God, she's so fake," someone muttered as she passed the break room. "Acting all calm when the director hyped her up—like she's some seasoned pro."
"Maybe she is," a sharper voice snickered. "The quieter they are, the more skeletons they've got."
"Spill—what'd you hear?"
"Shh..." The voice dropped. "Rumor is, Clara didn't land that deal on her own. Someone pulled strings."
"Who? Jason? Word is he had it bad for her in college—chased her like a lovesick puppy. She shot him down cold."
"Nah, not Jason Ford," the other scoffed. "If he could swing it, he'd have handed it to Stacy, not Clara. And Stacy tanked that client for three months—Jason wouldn't have done better."
"So... you're saying Clara's got a bigger fish backing her?"
The group hushed, dissolving into giggles.
Clara rolled her eyes, ready to walk away—until she turned and locked eyes with Stacy Chen, whose glare could've melted steel.
Her heart skipped, but her face stayed smooth. "Hey, Stacy."
Stacy crossed her arms, sneering. "Oh, I'm just peachy—with you prancing around in my face all day."