Chapter 5 #2
“So,” I continue, sneaking a glance at Chase, who hasn’t so much as twitched in my direction. What’s he even doing—drafting my severance package letter to HR?
“The core algorithm is progressing on schedule. We’ve optimized the processing pipeline, which has reduced load time by twenty percent. This will allow for smoother scaling. Our next target is refining the predictive models to handle larger datasets.”
Austen smiles in approval, but it’s Chase’s reaction I’m waiting for.
When his dark eyes finally lift from the screen, they lock onto mine—intense and impossible to read.
My stomach flips. For a brief moment, I remember last night’s dream—his hands gripping my waist, his mouth trailing my thighs, his stubble rough against my skin.
I swallow hard and force myself to hold his gaze, pretending to be unaffected.
“What are your projections on scalability? Chase asks, his voice low but authoritative.
I glance at my screen, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I anticipate a thirty percent increase in capacity with the adjustments I’m making.”
My heart thumps as he studies me for a beat too long. Then, without another word, he turns to Mark. “We need to move faster. Adjust the timelines and make it happen.”
My jaw tightens at his dismissive tone, but I keep my features impartial. I’m already on thin ice. And if he wants me to be a perfect little Knightwell robot, that’s what I’ll be.
“Thank you,” Austen says, taking the sting out of Chase’s indifference. I sit back down, determined not to let it bother me.
But when Chase directs his next question at Mischa.
He listens intently, and this time, the smile isn’t subtle—it’s clear, appreciative, and I think Mischa just died and went to heaven.
And I just died a little, too—but not in a good way.
I’m not sure where all this irrational jealousy is coming from.
As the meeting wraps up, Chase leans forward in his chair, drumming his fingers against the boardroom table, drawing all eyes to him. Just his presence alone effortlessly commands the entire room.
“We need to stay on top of this,” he says, his impenetrable focus making everyone shift in their seats. “There is no room for delays. Mark, I expect an updated timeline by the end of the day.”
Mark’s shoulders sag, but he quickly recovers. “Understood.”
Chase shuts his laptop with a decisive snap and rises, slipping his jacket on in one fluid motion.
“Austen, a word,” he says, already moving to the door. Austen follows as Mark watches them go with a pained smile. As soon as they are out of sight and earshot, the smile slides off his face faster than cheap face paint.
“Right, we need to step it up,” he says, not a trace of the fake cheeriness from five seconds ago. As if we haven’t already been working ourselves to the bone.
“But if we rush too much, it could have negative consequences for the finished system,” I grumble, sliding my laptop back into its case.
Mark raises a brow. “You volunteering to tell Chase his demands are unreasonable?”
I stay silent because, of course, I’m not.
“Exactly,” Mark says with a smirk, satisfied with my lack of response.
We trudge back to our desks, the weight of a million unfinished tasks pressing down on me. The morning blurs into a mess of emails and code until my stomach stages a full-blown protest. I skipped breakfast, but no one dares to leave before Mark does.
I’m eyeing my pencil sharpener like a viable snack when Mark finally slips on his jacket and announces he’s off for a two-hour lunch appointment. Woo-hoo. Two whole hours of freedom.
“Alright for some,” Seb mutters.
“He’s probably meeting his other woman,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “Did you smell him today? He’s got so much cologne on, I’m practically high.”
Seb grins. “Millie said she saw him with someone last week. Definitely not business.”
Millie is the eyes and ears of this place. No scandal escapes her radar, so I’m confident it’s true.
“I’m shocked he even has a wife,” Seb adds. “Let alone a mistress.”
“At least he’s gone for a bit,” I say, standing. “Want to grab a sandwich? I need food before I eat the leaf from that office plant over there.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” Seb spins in his chair to face me, already reaching for his jacket.
As we wait for the elevator, Seb taps his foot. “You know, Vi, this entire project would crash and burn without you. Mark knows it, Austen knows it, and I’m damn sure Chase knows it. Why was he so quick to rehire you?”
As if to answer his question, the elevator doors slide open to reveal Chase draped in his dark suit, his phone pressed to his ear, his gaze slicing through me with unnerving precision—like a demon summoned to remind me who’s in control.
“You coming, Vi?” Seb asks, holding the elevator door with his arm.
Another thing I can add to my Seb appreciation list is his ability to remain unruffled.
Even if the Pope and the Dalai Lama were inside negotiating world peace, he would still breeze in without batting an eyelid.
Following his lead, I step in, every muscle tense as Chase’s presence squeezes the air from my lungs.
Why is his damn scent so intoxicating? Raw and masculine—like the promise of the best sex of your life.
Chase shifts slightly, angling his broad shoulders as he continues speaking into his phone. His voice drips through the elevator, low and smooth, like whiskey poured slowly over ice. It brushes against my nerves, soft as velvet, right before it cuts.
“I don’t want to hear about obstacles. Find a way around them,” he snaps, ending the call with a flick of his thumb, sliding the phone back into his pocket like the conversation was never worth his time.
Awkward silence drifts in like a dense fog.
I watch the illuminated floors flash by as if it’s the most fascinating thing ever.
My breathing suddenly sounds obnoxiously loud, like I’ve been chain-smoking for the past decade.
Has it always been this loud? And now it’s all I can hear, a full-on respiratory crisis in Dolby surround sound.
In contrast, Chase remains perfectly composed, the picture of cool indifference.
He doesn’t fidget, doesn’t shift, just stands there with effortless control as if I’m invisible.
When the elevator finally arrives at the Ground Floor, I feel like I’m returning from a ten-day expedition at high altitude.
Chase, the perfect gentleman, stands back to let Seb and I pass, finally acknowledging our existence with a wry smile. “Try not to die from alcohol poisoning during your lunch break, Violet. We need you on the project, and it would be a headache to replace you at this stage.”
Seb, the traitor, chuckles while I stare at Chase like he’s sprouted two heads. Great, now I look like I’m functioning with one semi-working brain cell and a breathing affliction.
Meanwhile, Chase glides past us to a goddess waiting for him at the plush sofas next to reception. Of course, she’s gorgeous. I bet she wouldn’t be seen dead on Tinder. Only the Raya dating app. good enough for her.
“I think today calls for a cheeseburger,” Seb says, unaware I’ve just died inside for the tenth time today.
“And a chocolate milkshake,” I add, sneaking a glance at Chase and Miss Ten-out-of-Ten as he leads her to the company chauffeur, holding the door open as she slides in gracefully.
Of course, I’m not jealous.
Maybe if I keep telling myself that, I’ll start to believe it.
Christ, who am I kidding?
I so am.