Chapter 6
Six
JASON
Jason Everett glared at the quarterly reports displayed across three monitors, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he made rapid-fire notations. The untouched lunch that Barbara Henderson had ordered for him hours ago sat forgotten at the edge of his desk, now cold and congealed.
Barb, his executive assistant of seven years, appeared silently at his desk with fresh coffee—black, two sugars—precisely when he needed it. She’d perfected the art of anticipating his needs years ago, making her invaluable to his operation.
“The Beijing team is waiting on line three,” she informed him, her efficiency as crisp as her charcoal pantsuit.
Jason nodded, already reaching for the phone. “Hold my other calls unless it’s?—”
“The board, legal, or your wife’s lawyers. Already done.” She turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, and the new junior assistant managed to jam the copy machine. Again.”
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose. Sophia Reeves. Fresh out of business school, eager as a golden retriever puppy, and about as graceful as one. When Barb had suggested taking on an additional assistant after losing Gina to a Silicon Valley startup, he’d agreed. He hadn’t expected…
A crash from the outer office, followed by a mortified “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” confirmed his thoughts.
Barb’s lips twitched. “I’ll handle it.”
“Please do.” He turned his attention to the Beijing call, trying to ignore the sound of papers being frantically gathered in the other room.
An hour later, emerging from what felt like his thousandth conference call of the day, Jason found Sophia carefully—very carefully—placing a stack of reports on his desk.
Her emerald eyes were wide with concentration, her movements deliberate as though handling explosive materials rather than quarterly projections.
“The Q3 reports, Mr. Everett,” she announced proudly, only to knock over his pen holder in her hasty retreat.
“Thank you, Miss Reeves.” He caught the holder before it could spill, his reflexes honed by weeks of similar incidents.
She blushed prettily—objectively, he could acknowledge she was attractive, in a fresh-faced, ingénue sort of way—and scrambled to straighten his desk items. “I’ve color-coded the tabs according to Barb’s system and double-checked all the figures and?—”
“That will be all.” He turned back to his computer, already mentally moving on to his next task. He caught her slight deflation from the corner of his eye but didn’t acknowledge it. She was here to learn professional efficiency, not seek validation.
Barb appeared as Sophia retreated, looking faintly amused. “She alphabetized the entire filing system this morning. Backward, but she’s learning.”
“Hmm.” Jason pulled up his afternoon schedule. “The Singapore merger?”
“The contracts are ready for final review. Legal’s confirmed everything’s in order.” Barb’s efficiency was, as always, impeccable. “And the board meeting is set for tomorrow morning to finalize the details.”
“Good. Make sure Miss Reeves doesn’t try to help by reorganizing the legal files. Again.”
“Of course.” She paused at the door. “Though you have to admit, her system of organizing by how scary the opposing counsel looks was creative.”
Jason’s lips twitched despite himself.
As his PA left, he heard Sophia’s voice drift in. “Barb, should the coffee beans be stored alphabetically by country of origin or by roasting date?”
“Neither, dear. Step away from the coffee station. Slowly.”
Jason turned back to his work, pushing thoughts of his well-meaning but chaotic junior assistant from his mind. He had an empire to run, after all.
But for once, the numbers swimming before him on the screen failed to command his full attention.
Instead of quarterly projections and profit margins, his traitorous mind kept drifting to Victoria—a phenomenon about as common as finding a bargain-hunting billionaire at a dollar store.
The morning’s encounter in the kitchen played over in his thoughts, disrupting his usually laser-focused concentration.
Victoria, standing there in a silk robe, clutching her coffee cup like it contained liquid gold instead of her usual precisely temperature-controlled, shade-grown, single-origin brew.
The way she’d jumped when he spoke, spilling coffee everywhere—a move so un-Victoria-like, he’d almost checked the ceiling for pod people.
And that look in her eyes when she’d gazed up at him—wide, startled, almost innocent.
For a moment, she’d seemed like a different person entirely.
Gone was the calculating ice queen who could freeze Hell with a single raised eyebrow.
Instead, there had been something genuine in her expression, something that stirred memories he’d thought were locked away tighter than his company’s security protocols.
He leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.
When they’d first met, Victoria Hayes had been everything he thought he wanted in a wife—a checklist of perfection wrapped in elegance.
Stunning? Check. Sophisticated? Double check.
Sweet? Well, that one turned out to have a shorter shelf life than week-old sushi.
That first year of dating, she’d been attentive, warm, always touching his arm or leaning into him during social events like a perfectly programmed girlfriend. He’d actually believed he’d found someone who saw past his wealth to the man beneath. More fool him.
The change after their wedding had been subtle at first, like a software update that slowly corrupts your system.
Small criticisms about his table manners, his choice of ties, the way he handled social situations.
Then came the bigger issues—his work hours, his background, his apparent inability to live up to the Hayes family standards, which seemed to rival the Ten Commandments in both number and rigidity.
Intimacy became a battleground worthy of its own historical documentary.
Victoria treated his attempts at physical affection like he was suggesting they rob a bank together.
“I’m not some common slut,” she’d snap, recoiling from his touch with the horror of a vampire facing sunrise.
Eventually, they’d moved to separate bedrooms, their marriage existing only on paper and at public events where they performed their roles with all the warmth of two robots making small talk.
But this morning… this morning she’d looked at him like she’d never seen him before, as if he’d suddenly sprouted wings and a halo.
There’d been no disguised contempt, no careful manipulation.
Just genuine surprise and something else—was it appreciation?
The way she’d stared at him, her cheeks flushing pink, her mouth forming a small ‘O’ of surprise.
Jason shook his head sharply. What was wrong with him? Victoria was probably just plotting something new, though he had to admit, spilling coffee and stammering about roommates seemed about as much her style as bargain hunting.
The sound of muffled laughter pulled Jason from his memories.
Through the glass wall of his office, he had a clear view of the usually orderly sea of desks that made up the executive floor.
Usually, his employees maintained the precise efficiency of a well-oiled machine.
Now, they were clustering like teenagers at a gossip session, heads bent over phones, hands covering mouths in poorly concealed shock and amusement.
He watched as Sophia—who should have been filing those reports—practically bounced over to Barb’s desk, phone extended like she was holding breaking news. Even his unflappable PA’s eyebrows shot up as she looked at the screen.
Jason’s finger hovered over the control panel that would frost the glass walls, giving him privacy from this unexpected chaos.
But curiosity—something he usually had no time for—got the better of him.
He hadn’t seen this much excitement in the office since someone had accidentally sent the entire company their cat video compilation instead of the quarterly presentation.
Barb appeared in his doorway moments later, her own phone in hand and an expression that suggested she was trying very hard not to smile. “Sir, I believe you should see this.”
“What now?” He held out his hand for the phone, half expecting another viral cat video from the IT department. Instead, what filled the screen made him sit up straighter.
The video started innocently enough—another high society luncheon that typically bored him to tears.
Then he saw Victoria, and for the second time that day, he had to do a double take.
Gone was her usual razor-sharp appearance that could cut glass.
Instead, she looked… softer somehow, her usual severe updo replaced by elegant waves, her stark power-suits swapped for something that actually had color.
But what truly caught his attention was how she stepped between two screeching socialites with the calm efficiency of a veteran bouncer.
“Is that—?” He leaned closer to the screen, unable to quite believe what he was seeing.
“Your wife breaking up a catfight between Fiona Harrison and Harper Winters? Yes, sir.” Barb’s voice carried a hint of admiration. “Just wait.”
He watched, fascinated, as Victoria—his Victoria, who once called security because a delivery man looked at her “threateningly”—handled the situation like she’d been working crowd control her entire life.
The way she positioned herself, hands visible, voice firm but calm, was textbook de-escalation…
if the textbook had been written by someone who’d worked the night shift at a rowdy bar.
When the wine went flying, Jason actually flinched.
But Victoria just stood there, dripping in what was probably obscenely expensive red wine, and delivered what could only be described as a master class in cutting someone down to size without raising her voice.
Her casual dismissal of Bradley Thompson had him fighting back a very unprofessional grin.