Page 56 of Filthy Rich Bosses

"Perfect," he says. "Just come by first thing to sign the paperwork, and the place is all yours."

I end the call, a mix of relief and dread settling in my stomach. It's not ideal, but at least I won't be homeless. Again.

Chapter 24

Chase

Iwatch Tessa storm up the stairs, her black hair whipping behind her as she disappears around the corner. Damn, I've really messed things up. I let out a frustrated sigh.

She left without me. And whatever happened while she was gone…it doesn’t seem to have made her any more likely to stay.

The sound of clicking heels draws my attention to the kitchen. I wander in, curious, and find Juniper methodically packing her purse. Her auburn hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, and her thick-rimmed glasses reflect the overhead lights as she glances up at me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, unable to keep the disdain from my voice.

Juniper straightens, a smug smile playing on her freckled face. "My job," she replies simply, her tone sharp and precise.

I furrow my brow, more questions bubbling up, but decide to let it go for now. Tessa is my priority. I need to fix this.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I reach Tessa's door and knock gently. "Tessa? Can we talk?"

Silence.

I press my forehead against the cool wood, picturing her intense eyes and the scowl I know is on her face on the other side. "Look, I forgive you for leaving me behind," I say, trying to inject some lightheartedness into my voice. "But you'll need to make it up to me, you know. Maybe we could start with you opening this door?"

Nothing. Not even the sound of movement.

I tap my fingers against the door frame, my mind racing. How can I get through to her? I've never met anyone so guarded, so resistant to opening up. It's like trying to coax a wounded animal out of hiding.

"Come on, kitten," I plead, softer now. "I know you prefer the company of animals, but I promise I don't bite. Unless you're into that sort of thing." I wince at my own words. Flirting probably isn't the best approach right now, but old habits die hard.

Still no response. I can almost feel the wall between us, thick and impenetrable. My chest tightens with an unfamiliar ache. Why does her silence bother me so much?

I lean against the door, sliding down until I'm sitting on the floor. "All right, I get it. You need some space. But just so you know, I'm not giving up that easily. I'll be right here when you're ready to talk."

As I settle in for what might be a long wait, I can't help but wonder what it'll take to break through Tessa's defenses. I’m willing to do just about anything…anything but let her go.

I run a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of defeat settling on my shoulders. After an hour or so, I push myself up from the floor, my legs stiff from sitting so long. As I trudge down the hallway, each step feels like I'm moving through molasses.

"Well, that went swimmingly," I mutter to myself, my usual carefree demeanor slipping. I can't shake the feeling that I've royally screwed things up with Tessa. My mind races, replaying every interaction, searching for where I went wrong.

I flop onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. "Have I already lost her?" The question hangs in the air, unanswered.

Sleep doesn't come easy that night. I toss and turn, dreaming about Tessa and growling dogs in dingy apartments.

The next thing I know, there's a sharp rap at my door. I groan, burying my face deeper into the pillow.

"Mr. Chase," Douglas's crisp British accent cuts through my foggy brain. "I'm afraid there's a matter that requires your immediate attention."

I crack one eye open, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the window. "What time is it?"

"Half past eight, sir," Douglas replies, his tone tinged with urgency. "And I'm afraid Miss Tessa is...well, she appears to be leaving. And she's taking all her things."

Those words jolt me awake faster than a bucket of ice water. "What?!" I bolt upright, my heart pounding. "She can't be leaving. She wouldn't just..."

But even as I say it, I know it's exactly what she'd do. Tessa, always running. Always keeping everyone at arm's length.

"I'm afraid it's true, sir," Douglas says, his usual sarcasm replaced with genuine concern. "She's packing her belongings as we speak."

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