Chapter 13
Rose
I see him before he sees me. I always see people first.
Grey is at the copier, feeding a stack of contracts through the machine with that same careful, invisible efficiency.
An office furniture in human form. On the surface, that is.
Underneath, he’s different. I watch people for a living, it’s my job, and I’m very good at my job.
He’s not walking the way he walked three weeks ago.
He’s tighter, coiled. Something happened with Cain.
I know the pattern. Cain doesn’t change easily, but when he does, the shift radiates.
The office has been humming differently for days, a slightly off-key note under the usual corporate symphony.
Email response times altered. Meeting schedules bent around one man's availability.
Glances that linger too long on a particular desk.
Grey's desk.
The copier finishes its run. He gathers the pages, straightens them twice like he’s aligning his entire life in a neat stack.
Pathetic. I step forward.
"Grey."
He jolts. Only for a second. His face smooths over like he's been practicing it in the mirror.
"Ms. Sophie."
He says my name with that quiet politeness that makes most people underestimate him. They see the soft voice, the lowered eyes. They forget the folder labeled C on his laptop, ah but most people don’t know about that folder, and the way he looks at Cain when he thinks no one‘s watching.
"Where are you headed?" I ask, as if I don’t already know the office floor plan by heart.
"Board room." He lifts the stack of papers slightly. "Quarterly projections Mr. Michaels asked for them."
Of course he did.
"Walk with me," I say. My tone makes it sound like a suggestion.
He hesitates. Then falls into step beside me, matching my pace down the corridor.
His stride is measured, quiet, my heels click together, we sound wrong.
Like two different songs playing over each other.
We pass two assistants, a junior associate, and the glass wall of conference room B.
Cain is not inside. He’s on a different floor, buried in numbers and power.
For now. We reach the corner where the hallway splits, one way to the boardroom, the other to a smaller, seldom-used meeting space. I stop, turn toward the empty room.
"In here."
He glances at the board room door. At the clock on the wall. Five minutes until his meeting.
"Mr. Micheals is waiting for these," he says.
"He’s waiting for you," I correct, and watch the words land. Then I soften my mouth into a smile. "A few minutes won’t kill anyone. Come on, Grey. I just want to talk."
He doesn't believe me. Smart boy. But he still follows me into the room. The door closes. The noise of the office cuts off like someone pressed mute. It's just us, a long table, eight empty chairs, frosted glass and no cameras in here. Leo showed me the blind spots months ago.
Grey moves to the far end of the table, placing the papers down. Then he turns back to me, hands loose at his sides, expression courteous.
"You wanted to talk," he prompts.
I want to do a lot of things. I walk toward him, slowly, letting the silence stretch. He’s watching me now, not the way he watches Cain, but with an edge. I stop a few feet away. Close enough to see the faint shadows under his eyes. He isn’t sleeping well.
"You’ve been busy," I final say.
His eyebrows lift. "Work has been demanding."
"Work. Interesting choice of word. That’s one way to describe breaking into your boss's apartment."
He freezes.
It’s a beautiful reaction, total stillness. Like prey caught in headlights. Then the smallest movement, a tightening around his mouth, and a flicker in his eyes.
But his voice, when it comes, is almost steady. "I beg your pardon?"
"I'm bored of polite lies, Grey. You broke into Cain’s penthouse. You knew the code for the lock. You walked through his living room like you belonged there. You went into his bedroom." I take a step closer.
“You lay in his bed. You put on his jacket. You touched his things. And then you touched yourself."
His throat works, just once, swallowing something heavy.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," he says softly.
I could list the evidence. The hallway camera that caught him outside the apartment door, the brief glitch when he jammed the feed, the timestamp matching the GPS data from Cain’s car, downtown at some tedious board dinner.
The faint silhouette on the bedroom camera, barely there but enough for me to know. The audio file.
But that’s for later.
I tilt my head. "Do you know how many feeds and logs Cain has access to now? How many he showed me, thinking I was just being a careful board member?"
He says nothing.
Still nothing. His hands are no longer loose. One of them curls against the edge of the table. I step into his space.
"Ive been watching you, Grey. Long before you ever googled Cain Micheals net worth. Long before you made a folder labeled C. Long before you took your first paperclip and hid it in that shoebox."
There. A blink, faster than a breath. He knows exactly which shoebox I’m talking about.
I lower my voice. "Do you want to know something fun?"
He doesn’t answer me, but I tell him anyway.
"I watched you take out the watch, the coffee sleeve, and the keycard. I watched you line up everything he’s ever accidentally left in your orbit. I watched you hold those things like they were holy."
I step around him, circling slowly, like I’m studying a specimen. He draws in a breath through his nose, sharp, and controlled.
"You’re very interested in Mr. Michaels, aren’t you? Such dedication. Such attention to detail. Such…investment." I mock
He turns his head, tracking me as I move. The politeness is cracking around the edges.
"If you have a point, Ms. Sophie, I'd appreciate you getting to it." His voice is still quiet, but there’s steel under it now.
"My point is that your little obsession isn‘t as secret as you think it is. And that secrecy is the only thing keeping you employed. Keeping you out of jail. Keeping you near him."
His jaw tightens. I lean in, close enough that my perfume wraps around both of us.
"If I walk into the board meeting in ten minutes and show them what I have, you’re finished." I murmur. "I tell them their golden boy secretary broke into the CEO‘s home. Watched him through cameras. Stole his things. I tell them you came on his desk. In his bed. In his sheets."
His eyes flick to mine at that, angry.
"And I tell them," I continue, "that Cain knew about at least some of it. That he didn't call security. That he let it happen. That he’s compromised. That he’s reckless. That he’s letting an unstable employee orbit him like a moon he can‘t quite shake."
I straighten, smoothing a hand down my blazer.
"HR would have a field day. The board even more so. He’s already on thin ice with some of them; they think he’s too independent, too arrogant, too willing to bend rules for the sake of a deal. Imagine how they’d react to a stalking scandal."
I let the silence stretch.
"You think you’re protecting him by being careful." I say. "In reality, you’re the easiest weapon anyone could use against him."
He laughs. It’s a small sound, half breath, half derision.
"You’re very dramatic, Ms. Sophie."
I arch a brow. "Am I wrong?"
"You don’t know everything you think you know," he replies quietly. "And you certainly don’t know me."
"Oh?" I smile.
He doesn’t move away from me. He stays exactly where he is, spine straight, fingers flexing against the table, eyes locked on mine. Something dangerous flickers there, barely contained.
"You talk like you’ve been watching me. Recording things. Collecting. You talk like you’re the only one who can do that."
Then his mouth twists.
"But you’re not, are you?"
There’s the first flash of teeth.
I tilt my head. "Careful, Grey."
"You’re very careful," he says. "I’ve noticed. Always in the right place at the right time. Always with the right story. Stalker, was it?" He lets the word hang between us. "How fortunate for you that Leo believed it."
My fingers still. Only for an instant. He sees it.
"For someone who’s so worried about evidence, you trust people very easily when they give you access." He continues, voice soft. "Maybe you should worry about what some of us do with that access."
My lips press together.
"You think you’re untouchable because you’re on the board. Because you’ve known Cain longer. Because you saw him first, or whatever story you’ve told your delusional self."
His eyes are bright now. Focused. He’s shaking a little.
"But you’re just another person who wants something from him," he says. "Another person collecting him. Another person watching. You’re not special."
The words land harder than I expect. Interesting.
"Be very careful," I repeat, quieter. "You’re talking to someone who can end your life here with one email."
He laughs then smirks "I don’t have time for your temper tantrums Ms Sophie, besides I have to get back to Cain."