Chapter 7 #2
She answers Livianna. “Mr. Crowne built a multibillion-dollar empire without stepping into the spotlight. He won’t be interviewed by the press, and getting a photograph of him is impossible, but he’s written about daily.
He’s always ten steps ahead of everyone.
It’s fascinating to me. I wanted to be an insider and see how it all works. ”
Livianna shakes her head. “How what works? There’s a lot you just mentioned.”
“Don’t you see? He doesn’t chase influence. He engineers it, and he does it by being a ghost no one can touch.” Natalie motions around the room. “You’re getting access to him like very few do. And I get to be a part of everything he does day in and day out. It’s intoxicating.”
Livianna tilts her head and seems to consider something. She scans the room, and something in her eyes shifts. Where she was curious before, she now seems to understand her surroundings better.
I place my cup down. “Livianna, Natalie’s one of the most important people in my business. She’s my organizer, gatekeeper, and so much more. I need her here as much as she wants to be here. But I almost lost her.”
“Why?” Livianna’s gaze moves between us.
“Because Natalie was afraid to ask for what she wanted.” I stand, round my desk, lean against it, and peer at Natalie. “Tell Livianna what I’m talking about.”
“But Mr. Crowne, I’ve signed an NDA.” Natalie rises. “Is there another way you’d like me to explain without sharing the details?”
I study Livianna. Can she keep the information to herself? My intuition screams yes.
One thing I’ve figured out about Livianna is she has wounds and secrets. Likely, some she’s never spoken of. She can be trusted.
My instincts are never wrong about trust, so I address Natalie.
“As a counterparty, I’m waiving confidentiality for this conversation only.
I’ll draft an amendment before day’s end.
I want Livianna to understand that if she wants my help, she has to be completely honest with me.
Otherwise, I won’t know how to guide her. ”
“Okay.” Natalie returns to her chair. “I’ve worked at CVI for nine years. Two years in, I got pregnant. My boyfriend made more money than I did, and we didn’t have enough to pay for daycare. I tried to quit, but Mr. Crowne wouldn’t let me.”
Livianna leans forward, showing her interest. “What did he do to help?”
“He asked me how much money it would take to keep me.” Natalie laughs. “I was thinking about leaving my newborn with strangers and wanted to run for the hills. I was joking and said it would take at least a million dollars and three months of paid maternity leave.”
It takes Livianna a second for what Natalie’s implying to register.
She gasps. “You must be the highest-paid assistant I’ve ever met!”
Natalie explains more. “It became a retention package and a re-level to Executive Assistant with a child-care stipend. They even added a written parental leave policy for the whole operational team.”
Livianna’s shocked gaze flicks to mine.
“Livianna, Natalie is an executive assistant and the best. Her salary reflects that, but her why for the money was the reason she got the raise she wanted.” I reach for my tea. “Once she explained that, I made the changes and everything went back to normal for CVI.”
“Why did you want a million dollars?” Livianna’s genuine curiosity shines through.
“If I were going to continue to work, I wanted my boyfriend to be with the baby. He hated his job, so it wasn’t a stretch.” Natalie flashes me a grateful smile.
I return it. “Tell her the best part.”
Natalie’s entire demeanor lights up. “We’re married now with two kids, and he’s the best and happiest stay-at-home dad in the universe. When Mr. Crowne has us change headquarters or offices for a few months, my husband and kids can come with me. It’s perfect. I’m living my dream life.”
Livianna tightens her grip on her sketchbook and peeks up at me. “You did all that for her just because she told you her motivation?”
I nod. “And I’ll do the same for you if you can open up and tell me what you’re trying to build.”
Livianna swallows and scratches at her wrists. This time it’s more intense, and that makes my stomach knot. I give Natalie a look, telling her she’s excused. She leaves, closing the emotional perimeter down to just us.
I take Natalie’s seat and relax my stance. “Livianna, tell me what’s going on with you.”
She pauses for a few beats, then lifts her notebook.
“She needs to come alive.” Livianna’s voice cracks. “She has to breathe.”
“What I’m hearing you say is you want your fashion house to be a living entity.”
She places the sketchbook on the side table near her chair. “No. That’s not it.”
“Then help me understand.”
“She deserves to be seen.”
“Who?”
Livianna’s chest rises and falls in a frantic rhythm. Her wild gaze hooks with mine, and she trembles. Now she’s digging into both wrists with her pointy fingernails. The skin breaks. Blood beads to the surface.
Shit!
She’s having a panic attack.
“Here.” I pull out my purple pocket handkerchief and hold it toward her. “You’re bleeding.”
She doesn’t move. Whatever slammed into her has taken full control. I’m not sure she can hear me. She’s frozen and trying to catch her breath.
I kneel in front of her, hands steadying her shoulders, locking onto her blue eyes. “Focus on me and let everything else go.”
“Jax…” It barely escapes. “I...need air.”
Her vulnerability shakes me to my core. She needs more than air. She needs anchoring, and I know exactly what to do.
I pull her to her feet, cradle her in my arms, and rush us to the hidden elevator in the back corner of my office. It looks like an unremarkable black-sliding-door closet until it opens and the biometric monitor wakes.
The panel scans my retinas. I speak my name to complete the voice authentication.
The doors slide open, and the internal sensor reads my temperature. Inside, the lighting shifts to a deep indigo, designed to calm the nervous system.
No one but me has ever been where I’m taking her. Only two engineers even know this floor exists.
I should stop. I should keep this part of my life sealed off. But her trauma is so intense it manifests in blood. That alone strikes the deepest wounds I carry.
I step in, holding her close, as the elevator ascends. The air fills with vetiver, neroli leaf, and blue sage formulated to drop cortisol fast. Livianna’s tiny frame softens in my arms.
Once we get to the top floor, the doors open. I carry her straight into the circular, sunken meditation pit and lower her gently onto the crushed-velvet cushions. It’s lined with various white pillows and different textured weighted blankets that provide soothing comfort.
I sink back on my heels, gauging what she needs now. The lights dim to a softer ocean teal to evoke a deep calmness. She appears to be pulled out of her panic because her breathing has leveled off and she’s taking in every part of my secret weapon.
I swore nobody would ever see this side of me. And all it took to shatter my promise was the desperate desire to erase Livianna’s agony. My shoulders tense and my throat closes.
She straightens, scanning the space like she’s trying to decipher the alternate universe I just dropped her into. One sculpted with curved, seamless walls and a reality I’m not sure she believes in yet.
Her gaze finds mine, unblinking. “Jax… What is this place?”
I start to answer, but the words stick.
Because the truth is something I can’t speak out loud. Not without exposing too much. Not without risking her seeing the parts of me I’m not ready to put in her hands.
And now, I don’t know how to get myself out of the situation I’ve got myself into.