Page 27 of Filthy Rich Bosses

"That's no excuse," I snap, more harshly than I intended. "She could've gotten herself killed, or worse."

Chase raises an eyebrow. "Worse than killed?"

I ignore his attempt at humor, grabbing my laptop bag from the nearby table. "I can't deal with this right now. I've got work to do."

"Aren’t you already supposed to be at work?"

I shoot him a glare. "I was working from home.”

“You never work from home.”

“Yes, well I’m remedying that now. The office suddenly seems like a much better option than this circus."

I storm out of the house, slamming the door behind me. I slide into my car, the leather seat creaking under my weight, and peel out of the driveway.

The city streets blur past as I weave through traffic, my knuckles white on the steering wheel. But no matter how fast I drive, I can't seem to outrun the image of Tessa's defiant face, those greenish-blue eyes flashing with that infuriating mix of passion and stubbornness.

"Dammit," I mutter, punching the sound system on. The car fills with thundering bass, but even that can't drown out my thoughts.

Why the hell do I care so much? She's just an temporary employee, for Christ's sake. A troublesome one at that. Not evenmyemployee.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror, my jaw clenched tight. "Get it together, Cole," I growl at my reflection.

As I round the corner, the sleek glass tower of Gray Smoke Enterprises comes into view. The sight of it settles something in me, like a deep breath after holding it for too long.

"Finally," I sigh, pulling into my reserved spot. "Somewhere that makes sense."

I stride through the revolving doors, the familiar hush of the lobby washing over me. Employees scatter, averting their eyes as I pass. Good. At least here, I'm still in control.

"Morning, Mr. Ashford," the receptionist chirps.

I nod curtly, already feeling more like myself. The polished marble floors reflect the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating an almost ethereal glow. I pause for a moment, taking in the carefully curated modern art pieces adorning the walls. This place—it's a testament to everything I've built, everything I am.

"Good morning, Mr. Ashford." The security guard nods respectfully as I pass.

"Morning, Jim," I return, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly.

As I step into the elevator, I catch my reflection in the mirrored walls. I straighten my tie, running a hand through my hair. By the time I reach the top floor, I've managed to school my features into their usual mask of cool professionalism.

The doors slide open, revealing Janine at her desk. She's already on her feet, tablet in hand, ready to tackle the day. Now this is what I'm talking about. Efficiency, competence—none of that messy emotional crap.

"Morning, Janine," I say, striding towards my office. "What's on the agenda today?"

She falls into step beside me, her heels clicking rhythmically on the polished floor. "Your one p.m. with the board is still on, and there's the conference call with San Fran at three. Oh, and..." she hesitates, her usual confidence faltering.

I stop, turning to face her. "What is it?"

Janine takes a deep breath. "Morgan's called. Multiple times. She's...insistent on speaking with you."

I feel my jaw clench involuntarily. "Of course she is," I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Any idea what she wants?"

"She wouldn't say, sir. Just that it's urgent."

I let out a humorless chuckle. "With Morgan, everything's urgent."

I run a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up inside me. "Keep telling her I'm unavailable. If she persists, threaten to block her number."

Janine nods, but I can see the concern in her eyes. "Of course, sir. But...she seems particularly determined this time."

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