Page 57 of Filthy Rich Bosses

I leap out of bed, my mind racing. "I've got to stop her, Douglas. I can't let her go like this."

Without a second thought, I bolt for the door, nearly knocking Douglas over in my haste. My bare feet slap against the cold hardwood floors as I race down the hallway.

"Mr. Chase!" Douglas calls after me. "Perhaps you'd like to put on some shoes? Or a shirt?"

I ignore him, taking the stairs two at a time. My heart's pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. "Tessa!" I shout, not caring who I wake up. "Tessa, wait!"

I burst through the front door, the gravel of the driveway biting into my bare feet. But I barely notice the pain. All I can focus on is Tessa's car, already pulling away.

"No, no, no," I mutter, watching her taillights disappear down the long driveway. "This can't be happening."

For a moment, I stand there, paralyzed by indecision. I spin around, sprinting back into the house. I snatch my keys from the hook by the door, ignoring Douglas's concerned look.

"Sir, perhaps we should discuss this—"

"No time, Douglas," I cut him off, already heading back out. "I've got to catch her."

I jump into my car, not even bothering with a seatbelt. As I peel out of the driveway, I catch a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror—disheveled hair, no shirt, wild eyes. I look insane.

Hell, I feel insane.

"Maybe I am," I mutter to myself, pressing down harder on the gas. "But I'm not letting her go without a fight."

I speed down the winding country roads, frantically scanning for any sign of Tessa's car. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and my chest feels tight. Where could she have gone?

"Come on, Tessa," I mutter, taking a sharp turn. "Where are you?"

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as I drive aimlessly, hope dwindling with each empty street. Just as I'm about to give up, I spot a familiar sedan pulling into an apartment complex.

"Thank God," I breathe, relief washing over me, barely able to believe that I found her.

I park haphazardly, not caring if I'm in a proper spot. As I jump out, the rough asphalt scrapes my bare feet, but I barelynotice. My eyes are locked on Tessa's retreating figure as she walks toward the office.

Without hesitation, I charge after her, bursting through the office door just seconds after she enters. The cool air conditioning hits my bare chest, reminding me of my disheveled state.

"Kitten!" I call out, my voice echoing in the small space.

She whirls around, her eyes widening in shock. "Chase? What are you—"

I don't let her finish. In two long strides, I'm across the room. "I'm putting my foot down," I declare, surprising even myself with the firmness in my voice.

"What are you talking about?" Tessa asks, confusion evident on her face.

Instead of answering, I bend down and scoop her up, throwing her over my shoulder in one fluid motion. She lets out a surprised yelp, her hands instinctively gripping my back.

"Chase! Put me down this instant!" she demands, but I'm already heading for the door.

"Sorry, sweetheart," I say, trying to keep my voice light despite the turmoil inside. "But we're going back home. We need to talk this out."

As I carry her to her car, I can't help but think how ridiculous this must look—a half-naked man carrying a protesting woman through a parking lot. There is a chance that cops will be showing up at Grayson’s not long after us. But I don't care. All that matters is getting Tessa back home where we can sort this out.

I toss her into the passenger seat of her car and slide into the driver's seat, fumbling with the keys Tessa dropped in her surprise. As I pull out of the parking lot, she turns to me, her eyes flashing with a mix of anger and disbelief.

"You're crazy, Chase," she says, shaking her head. "What about your car? There's no way it's going to be here when you come back for it."

I can't help but let out a short laugh. "I don't care about the damn car, Tessa. I care about you."

The words hang in the air between us as I navigate the streets back to Grayson's. I sneak a glance at her, noticing the way her jaw clenches, the small scar on her forearm catching the sunlight as she crosses her arms defensively.

---