Chapter 5
Asher
“This isn’t the revised version I asked for.”
Claire freezes slightly across my desk. Her hands tremble as she reaches for the files. “I—sorry. I thought?—”
“You thought incorrectly.”
The words come out sharper than I intended. Her face grows pale as she takes a step back. That annoys me.
Roxanne wouldn’t have done that. She'd have lifted one perfectly shaped brow and informed me that I was the one who sent unclear instructions. Then she would’ve fixed the problem before I could finish being irritated.
Damn it! Why do I keep comparing them?
I pinch the bridge of my nose slowly.
It’s been ten days since I transferred her. Ten days, and somehow my entire schedule feels wrong.
Meetings run less efficiently, and coffee appears too late. Half my calls require follow-ups because Claire doesn’t anticipate things the way Roxanne did.
And worst of all, I keep looking for her.
Twice this morning alone, I almost called her name out of habit.
Roxanne.
The name alone feels like something dangerous to my body. It brings back memories I shouldn’t be replaying during board meetings.
Like the sound she made when I touched her or the way her whole body trembled beneath my hand.
Fuck.
I’m a goner.
I shove the thought away immediately.
“Just redo it,” I say flatly.
Claire nods quickly before leaving my office.
The second the door closes, I return to work, making sure to keep Roxanne locked out of my mind.
My sour mood returns when I’m coming back from a meeting and notice the movement near Hudson’s office.
My gaze immediately zoomed in on her. Roxanne stands inside Hudson’s office holding a tablet against her chest while Hudson says something that makes her smile.
And it isn’t the usual polished social smile she uses on investors or the cool professional one she gives me; it’s softer and real.
Something ugly twists low in my chest instantly as my brows pull together.
Hudson leans closer to show her something on his computer, and Roxanne laughs quietly.
I stare too long. Long enough that my jaw starts tightening.
Apparently, I dislike hearing her laugh with other men. That seems deeply inconvenient. Especially because Hudson is objectively harmless.
He’s in his mid-thirties and divorced. Might be mildly charming in a painfully corporate way, and the type of man women describe as stable.
He’s definitely not Roxanne’s type. Unless he is.
I know women who target divorced men.
As if sensing my attention, she glances up. Our eyes meet through the glass wall of Hudson’s office, and instantly that warmth disappears from her expression.
Cool professionalism slides back into place like armor. I frown.
It shouldn’t bother me, but somehow it does.
I snap my attention away from them and return to my office. Getting back to work is harder now. And the little control I’ve managed to garner disappears as soon as Roxanne comes into my office minutes later carrying a folder.
The air shifted as the room gradually welcomed her presence.
Even now, my body betrays me. I’ve never needed or wanted someone as much as I want Roxanne right now.
Today she’s wearing a deep emerald dress beneath a cream coat. The color against her skin should honestly be a criminal offense.
My gaze drops automatically to the curve of her hips. Then lower as the image of spreading her thighs apart against my conference table flashes through my head with violent clarity.
I look away first as my jaw ticks.
“Mr. Hudson asked me to bring these acquisition reports.”
Her tone is perfectly neutral as she hands the folders to me. I take them from her carefully, avoiding touching her hand. Mostly because I’m not convinced I’d stop at touching.
“Anything else?” I ask.
Her blue eyes meet mine briefly. The distant look in her eyes feels almost too strange compared to how she’d once stared at me with needy desperation.
I want that.
“No, Mr. Sterling.”
Mr. Sterling.
Her anger tells me I’m not the only one suffering through this disaster, and that doesn’t do anything to ease mine.
Roxanne turns toward the door. Then pauses slightly.
“Claire filed the investor projections incorrectly,” she says without facing me. “The corrected version is already in your email.”
It’s just like her to do something like this. Despite no longer working for me, she still noticed the mistake before anyone else.
As soon as she leaves, the office feels emptier. By noon, my patience is nearly nonexistent, and Hudson is the last person I want to see, but he walks into my office nonetheless, carrying two coffees and entirely too much amusement on his face.
“Good day, Mr. Sterling.”
I frown. The formality in the name tells me this clearly isn’t anything relating to work. It's ironic, but Hudson oddly loses the ability to remain formal when there’s urgent work involved.
“What’s this about?” I ask as I take the coffee.
Hudson sits across from my desk comfortably. “Claire says you terrified her before ten a.m.”
“She submitted the wrong reports.”
“She’s been your assistant for barely two weeks.”
“And?”
Hudson laughs quietly into his coffee.
Unlike most executives here, Hudson isn’t intimidated by me. Mostly because we’ve worked together too long for that.
His gaze drifts briefly toward the door. “She’s definitely not like Roxy. After working with Roxy these past few days, I can see why Claire gets on your nerves.”
The friendly way he refers to Roxanne rubs me the wrong way. What annoys me even more is the fond gaze in his eyes.
My mood worsens as every muscle in my body tightens. “Roxanne’s competent.” I lean back slowly in my chair. “Get to the point, Hudson.”
Hudson studies me for a second. Then he moves closer. “Was there something going on between you two?”
“No.”
My response is too fast, and I fear it’ll give Hudson the wrong idea.
“So you didn’t transfer her because things got complicated?”
“There were no things.”
There’s a momentary pause before Hudson leans back slightly.
“Good.” He smiles.
That smile stirs something dangerous low in my chest immediately. I already dread whatever it is he’s trying to hint at.
“What does that mean?”
His expression remains annoyingly calm. “I was considering asking her out.”
My grip tightens slowly around the coffee cup.
“Don’t,” I say flatly.
He lifts a brow. “Because?”
Because I might kill you if you do. The thought is so quick that I had to fight off the urge to spit it out.
“Because workplace relationships are forbidden.”
The lie sounds almost insulting even to my own ears. Hudson looks genuinely entertained now.
“Since when do we have a policy against office romance?”
“Since now.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “I’m not signing off on that.”
My jaw tightens hard enough to ache. The irritating part is that I can’t even explain why I’m so bothered. But the thought of Hudson touching her suddenly makes violence feel reasonable.
Which is concerning.
“You should get back to work now.”
Hudson studies me carefully and is about to say something elegant when my phone buzzes against the desk. I glance at it as irritation curls up my skin.
Tristan.
I calm down when I see it’s him.
“What?” I snap into the phone as I pick it up.
“Jesus,” Tristan mutters. “You are always this pleasant?”
“Yes.”
A laugh crackles through the line. “I just want to remind you about tomorrow.”
For God’s sake! I even forgot about the meeting tomorrow. Tristan has been trying to pitch some new business investment for weeks now.
Normally, I would’ve ignored it completely. But guilt is an irritating thing. We never had much of a relationship growing up, and despite everything, part of me still feels responsible for him.
“What time?” I ask.
“Noon.”
“Alright.”
“Perfect.” He says. “Maybe try not to sound like you want to murder somebody by then.”
The line disconnects after that. I stare at the phone for a second longer, then my gaze drifts toward Hudson’s office again.
I can’t see that from here, but the look Hudson gives me tells me he knows exactly where I was looking. And suddenly murder still feels like a perfectly reasonable option.