Chapter 21 Chase
Chapter twenty-one
Chase
I step into Austen’s office, adjusting my cuff as I head toward the reception desk. The meeting at Monarch had been a disaster. What was supposed to be a finalization discussion felt more like a step backward—cold, hesitant, like they were already looking elsewhere.
And I have a damn good idea of where.
Austen’s secretary, Zara, fluffs her hair the second she sees me, her cheeks flushing pink the way they always do. In the past, I might’ve played into it, just for the hell of it, but right now, I don’t have the patience.
“I need to see Austen immediately,” I clip.
“Of course, Mr. Knight. Let me just—” She scrambles to press the intercom, her voice a little breathless. “Mr. Wells, Mr. Knight, is here to see you.”
Austen’s reply is immediate. “Send him in.”
I push through the glass doors into his office. A minimalist’s dream—sleek black furniture, clean lines, not a single thing out of place.
“Chase,” he says, motioning me in. “Didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“Yeah, well,” I say with a grimace, “neither did I.”
Austen frowns, sitting across from me. “What happened?”
“They’re pulling back.” My jaw tightens. “They barely looked at the final contract. Their entire attitude has shifted.” I rake my fingers through my hair. “Austen, this should have been a done deal. Something has changed.”
“Elliot.”
I exhale sharply. “It has to be. Their hesitation felt like they already had another option in mind, and let’s be real—who else is in play?”
Austen’s jaw tightens. “It’s these damn leaks. If he’s using our proposal to strengthen his own bid...”
“Then we’re screwed unless we find out how he got his hands on it. Where are we with the internal investigation?”
Austen runs a hand through his hair. “I.T.’s checked our system—no unauthorized logins, no data breaches. Legal has reviewed access logs for our cloud storage, nothing unusual. And if someone printed a hard copy of the proposal, there’s no record of it.”
“So this isn’t accidental,” I say flatly. “Which means this isn’t just a leak—it’s a mole.”
Austen nods grimly. “Someone inside is feeding Elliot information.”
I exhale sharply. “We need to put someone on this full-time.”
“What about Devlin?” Austen suggests. “He handles risk assessment—this is his territory.”
I nod. Devlin’s meticulous, discreet. If there’s a mole, he’ll find them.
“First step,” I say, “we look at who had access to the Monarch proposal and the algorithm. Any files shared, meetings attended, notes taken—anyone who knew enough to help Elliot tweak his bid.”
“And if the mole printed a copy, even if they covered their tracks digitally,” Austen adds, “they still had to physically take it.”
“Which means someone, somewhere, saw something.” I tap my fingers against the chair’s arm. “We’ll find them.”
Austen nods.
I exhale, standing up. “Before I forget about this Saturday—still good for me to take the kids out in the afternoon?”
Austen’s expression softens. “Yeah. They’re excited.”
“I was thinking...” I hesitate for a beat. “Is it cool if Violet comes along?”
Austen raises a brow, amused. “Didn’t take you for a ‘bring your girl to the babysitting gig’ type.”
I smirk. “Didn’t take myself for one either.”
Austen chuckles. “Yeah, take her. You really like her, huh?”
I hold his gaze. “I do.”
“Good,” he says. “I’m glad it’s going well. I was wrong to think it wouldn’t work out.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t listen to you.” I wink, standing, pausing before I step outside. “I’ll keep you posted on the Monarch situation.”
Austen nods, but I can tell the weight of it is pressing on both of us. We need to figure out who the hell is feeding Elliot information—before it’s too late.
I march back to my office, purpose driving each step. Whoever is behind this is either reckless or a fucking idiot if they think they can outmaneuver me. They’ll regret the day they were damn well born by the time I’m through with them.
Dropping into my chair, I blow out a breath, my gaze flicking to the window.
Rain dots the glass, streaking silver against the muted gray skyline.
The Monarch meeting replays on a loop in my head, the pieces still refusing to click into place.
We should be finalizing the contract, not watching them pull back.
At least there’s one thing I can thank the Monarch deal for—bringing a certain someone into my life. The only person capable of cutting through my frustration.
Violet.
I grab my phone and shoot off a text.
ME
What are you doing?
I drum my fingers on my desk, waiting. A few minutes pass before my phone lights up.
VIOLET
In a meeting. Can't talk
I smirk. Like, that’s going to stop me.
As CEO, my needs take priority.
There’s a longer pause this time. My pulse beats in time with the three flickering dots.
VIOLET
Pretty sure HR would have some thoughts on that.
I let out a low chuckle.
If you want me to stop bothering you, have lunch with me.
VIOLET
That’s blackmail.
It’s an order—one o’clock. Don’t be late.
VIOLET
Only if you ask nicely.
A dark smile crosses my lips. Perhaps it’s time for another of Violet’s lessons.
I’m going to ignore that last comment and put it down to workplace stress. Albert will pick you up. Wait in the car like a good girl.
VIOLET
Yes, sir ?? *rolling eye emoji.
My damn cock swells, and I have to take a few deep breaths before swiping out of my messages and pulling up Devlin’s contact. Time is running out—if we want any hope of salvaging this contract, we need answers. Now.
He picks up on the first ring.
“Devlin, I’ve got a situation. Austen and I believe someone inside the company is feeding information to Elliot about the Monarch contract. I don’t want to get into the details over the phone, but I need you in my office now.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “On my way.”
I hang up and buzz through to Bethany. “Devlin’s coming up. Send him straight in.”
Drumming my fingers against the desk, I stare out the window. If it comes to it, I’ll have Elliot followed. Nothing is off the table. One thing I know for damn sure—he won’t win this time. Or the next. Because with Elliot, there’s always a next time.
I check my watch as the car door swings open, and Violet slides in, wearing the smile that makes me weak.
“You’re late,” I tell her, giving her a once-over.
“Hi Albert,” she says, ignoring me as she begins to fasten her seatbelt. “The meeting ran over. Which is your fault, by the way. You forced Mark to push forward on timelines.”
I grab her wrist before she clips the belt, pulling her into me.
“You forgot something.” Her eyes blink as she glances at Albert nervously.
I press a soft kiss on her lips. She tastes of her honey and vanilla lip balm, that I love.
She jolts back, eyes wide. “Stop, Albert will see us,” she whispers.
“Albert is watching the road, not us. Plus, he’s picked me up from your apartment in the early hours of the morning almost every day for the past two weeks.
I think he probably knows.” I lace my fingers through hers, my voice dropping.
“Speaking of which... when are you going to stay at my place? As much as I love being pressed up against you all night, it’d be nice to have some space to actually breathe. ”
She hesitates, worry flickering across her face as she pulls back to buckle up. “My sister’s leaving soon, so I want to spend as much time with her as possible.”
I don’t push, but I sense it’s more than that.
I stretch my arm across the back of the seat, letting my fingers brush against her shoulder, steering the conversation in a different direction. “Come with me this weekend. I’m taking Austen’s kids out for the afternoon.”
Surprise flickers across her face. “Austen has kids?”
“Yeah. Two.”
She tilts her head. “How old?”
“Four and five.”
Her expression softens. “That’s a fun age,” she muses. “And you agreed to this voluntarily?”
“I like a challenge,” I say, watching her. “That’s why I like you.”
She shakes her head, amused. “And what exactly do you need me for?”
I lean in slightly, my mouth close to her ear. “If you want to see me completely owned by a four and a five-year-old, say yes.”
A laugh spills from her lips, warm and easy. “Oh, I definitely want to see that.”
“So that’s a yes?”
She lifts her gaze to the ceiling like she’s pretending to consider it. “Will there be ice cream?”
I grin. “It can be arranged.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
Albert slows, pulling up at Le Jardin Privé, a French bistro with a waiting list stretching to Mars.
The second we’re through the front door, I know I’ve fucked up.
It’s the kind of place only the wealthy elite dine, where the women I dated previously would expect to be taken.
But it’s a million miles away from what Violet would like, and I should have thought of that.
As the servers fuss over us, bending and scraping to our every whim, I see her pull back.
She’s smiling, polite as ever. She’s eating everything on her plate, nodding when the sommelier explains the wine pairing, thanking the server each time he refills her glass. But her eyes...
That distant look. The one where it’s like the light inside her has gone out.
She’s here, but not really. She’s pretending.
And all I’m doing is making her believe we’re worlds apart.
But we’re not. Far from it. I guess over the years, I’ve lost sight of myself and become the person people expected me to be.
And I fucking hate it.
I should have known this wasn’t her. I should have taken her somewhere that feels like her, not this pretentious bullshit, because Violet doesn’t need to be impressed. She never did.
Just when I think the day can’t get any worse, a voice I’d rather never hear again drifts over my shoulder.
“Oh my god, Chase, it is you. I saw you from over there, and I wasn’t sure.”