Page 46 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
I stared at the message as my thoughts raced. If the board was questioning Tessa's role, it meant they were questioning mine too. My judgment. My priorities. My fitness to lead the company.
I sank deeper into my chair and buried my face in my hands. What was I doing? Risking my career, my company, mychildren's inheritance for a woman who was planning a future without me?
I was too old for this. Too old to be falling in love. Too old to be dreaming of babies and second chances. Too old to believe that someone as young and brilliant as Tessa could want a life with a damaged man approaching fifty.
The smart thing would be to end this now. Before the board acted. Before the gossip became a scandal. Before I destroyed everything I'd built chasing something I could never have.
But sitting there in my empty office, all I could think about was the way she'd handled Blake's disrespect with such dignity.
The way she'd looked at me when I defended her. The way she fit against me in the darkness of my bedroom.
Smart had never been my strong suit when it came to Tessa Wynn.
13
TESSA
The afternoon light slanted through the windows of Cross Capital's executive floor as I finished updating Lucian's calendar for the following week.
Four o'clock on a Thursday, and the office had that quiet hum of late-day productivity—phones ringing in distant cubicles, the soft clicks of keyboards, the occasional murmur of conversation from the conference rooms.
I was reviewing his travel itinerary for the Miami meetings when the elevator chimed.
I glanced up expecting to see Lucian returning from his back-to-back presentations with the infrastructure committee, but it wasn't him at all. Blake Cross had inherited his father's devilish good looks, but the dirty scowl on his face was never an expression I'd seen on Lucian's.
"Where's my father?" The demand came without acknowledgment that I was even human enough to deserve the basic courtesy of a cordial greeting.
I rose from my desk, smoothing my pencil skirt as I arranged my most professional smile. "Mr. Cross is in a meeting. They should wrap up in about twenty minutes. I'd be happy to let himknow you're here." I flicked a glance at the clock, praying Lucian would finish more quickly.
After what happened last time Blake came in for a meeting, I wasn't keen on being alone with him.
Blake's pale eyes—so much like his father's but cold where Lucian's held warmth—swept over me with undisguised contempt. "I'll wait in his office."
"I'm afraid that's not possible. Company security protocols require that his office remain locked when he's not present. I can set you up in the executive conference room, though. It has an excellent view, and I can arrange for refreshments." I was already moving, rising to lead him to the conference room when he snapped at me.
"Security protocols?" Blake's laugh was snarky and caustic. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"
Heat crept up my neck, but I maintained my composure. "Of course, Mr. Cross. However, the protocols apply universally when Mr. Cross isn't available to personally authorize access."
"Unbelievable." Blake shook his head, his voice dripping with disgust. "The help actually thinks they're in charge now. This is exactly what Elena and I have been talking about."
His words were such an insult, I had a hard time holding my tongue.
As if everything I'd done—every crisis I'd managed, every late night I'd worked, every way I'd made his father's life smoother—meant nothing.
I was furniture to him, an obstacle standing between him and what he wanted.
My throat constricted as his dismissal settled over me. This was Lucian's son, his flesh and blood, the heir to everything he'd built.
If Blake saw me as nothing more than an uppity servant, how could I ever imagine that Lucian saw me differently?
The painful truth crashed over me in waves—I was twenty-six, working class, nobody special. Blake was a Cross, heir to billions. In his eyes, I would always be exactly what he'd called me—the help.
"The executive conference room has the same view as your father's office," I managed, gesturing toward the glass-walled space. "I can have facilities bring up anything you need."
Blake dropped into one of the chairs facing my desk instead, pulling out his phone while rolling his eyes. "I'll wait here. Try not to hover."
I sank back into my chair, my cheeks burning with humiliation. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to put him in his place, to remind him that I'd been keeping his father's schedule organized while he was spending trust fund money on whatever caught his fancy.
