Page 28 of Filthy Rich Bosses

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath. Of course she is. Morgan never understood boundaries, even when we were together. Why would that change now?

I push open the door to my office, the familiar scent of leather and polished wood greeting me. It's a stark contrast to the chaos I left at home. Here, everything is in order.

I toss my briefcase onto the desk and shrug off my jacket, draping it over the back of my chair. The morning light streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the sleek, modern furniture. This space screams power and control—exactly how I like it.

Sinking into my chair, I boot up my computer and begin scanning one of the reports on my desk. But as I try to focus on the numbers in front of me, my mind keeps drifting. To Tessa's fiery eyes as she stormed off. To Chase's uncharacteristic anger. To the suffocating tension that seems to have taken over my home.

"Dammit," I growl, shoving the report away. Why the hell can't I shake this? It's just another day, another drama. So why does it feel so...different?

I lean back, staring out at the city skyline. The world outside carries on, oblivious to my internal struggle. And here I am, Cole Ashford, master of his domain, rattled by a slip of a girl and her rescue dog crusade.

Just as I start to regain my focus, a commotion erupts outside my office. Raised voices pierce through the usual hum of productivity, and one in particular makes my jaw clench. Morgan.

I'm on my feet before I realize it, striding to the door and yanking it open. The scene that greets me is exactly what I'd feared. Morgan stands in the hall, her face flushed with anger, her designer handbag clutched like a weapon. Poor Janine looks flustered, trying to block Morgan's path while maintaining some semblance of professionalism.

"Mr. Ashford is in a meeting," Janine insists, her voice strained.

Morgan's laugh is sharp, cutting. "Oh please, I know he's avoiding me."

I scan the office, noting the not-so-subtle glances from my employees. Great. Just what I need—more fodder for the rumor mill.

"Morgan," I say, my voice low and controlled. "What are you doing here?"

She whirls to face me, triumph flashing in her eyes. "Cole, darling. We need to talk."

I feel a headache brewing behind my eyes. The longer this goes on, the more it disrupts everything I've built here. With a resigned sigh, I jerk my head toward my office. "Fine. Five minutes, and then you're gone."

Morgan's smirk is insufferable as she saunters past me. I exchange a look with Janine, who gives me a sympathetic shrug. Steeling myself, I follow Morgan into my office and shut the door firmly behind us.

"Well?" I say, crossing my arms. "What was so important it couldn't wait?"

“Your girlfriend should never have to wait.”

I lean against my desk, trying to project an air of calm I definitely don't feel. "Look, Morgan, I've been clear about this. We're done. There's nothing left to discuss."

Her perfectly manicured nails tap against her thigh as she lets her skirt show more and more skin. Does she think she canseduce her way back into my life? "Oh, but I think there is, Cole. You can't just throw away what we had."

I suppress a groan. "What we had was toxic, and you know it. Now, I've got work to do, so if you don't mind—"

"Don't you dare dismiss me!" Her voice rises, eyes flashing. "You think you can replace me? Please."

For some reason, the spitfire living in my house is the first thing that pops into my head. I push the thought away, focusing on the problem at hand. "This isn't about anyone else. It's about us being over. Period."

Morgan's laugh is brittle. "You're making a mistake, Cole. We were perfect together."

"Perfect?" I can't help but scoff. "Is that what you call the constant drama? The manipulation?"

She steps closer, her perfume cloying. "I call it passion. Something you clearly lack without me. Actually, you’re nothing without me, and you know it. You need me back in your life because your life is nothing without me in it."

I feel my patience wearing thin. "That's enough, Morgan. You need to leave. Now."

"Or what?" she challenges, chin tilted defiantly.

I straighten, my voice hardening. "Or I'll have security escort you out. And trust me, if this happens again, I won't hesitate to get a restraining order."

For a moment, I see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. But it's quickly replaced by a cold fury. "You wouldn't dare."

"Try me," I say, reaching for my phone.

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