Page 67 of Filthy Rich Bosses

I nod, unable to form words. The affection in his gaze should send me running for the hills, but instead, it wraps around me like a comforting blanket.

Grayson's hands tighten on my waist, and he gently lifts me to my feet. The loss of his warmth is immediate, but before I can dwell on it, Chase is there, his arm wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me back against his chest.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Chase murmurs, his breath tickling my ear.

I nod, grateful for his steadying presence. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just...confused."

My eyes are drawn back to Zeus, still growling at the agitated woman. Grayson steps forward, his voice firm but calm. "Zeus, stand down."

To my amazement, Zeus immediately responds. He backs up, his muscular body still tense, until he's right in front of me. His protective stance doesn't waver, and occasional low growls rumble from his chest, but he's listening. He's actually listening.

I can't help but stare at Grayson in wonder. And when Grayson turns to look at me, the pride and joy shining in his eyes makes my heart skip a beat.

"Good boy, Zeus," I whisper, fighting the urge to reach out and pet him. Now's not the time, but God, I want to.

Grayson's lips quirk up in a small smile, and I feel a warmth spread through my chest. It's ridiculous how much his approval means to me already. I should be terrified by how much these men mean to me, but somehow, I'm not.

Chase's arm tightens around me slightly. "You've got quite the way with animals, Tessa," he says, a note of admiration in his voice.

I shrug, trying to play it cool despite the flush I can feel creeping up my neck. "It's nothing special. I just...understand them, I guess."

"What the hell is going on here?" Juniper's voice could cut glass.

I almost laugh. Because really, what does it look like? A grown woman curled up in her boss's lap while his friends look on? Yeah, that's exactly what it is.

"Juniper," Grayson says, his tone careful. "I think the better question is what are you doing here?"

Chase chimes in, his usual carefree demeanor replaced by something more protective. "Ladies, why don't we all take a breath and—"

"Shut up, Chase," Juniper snaps, cutting him off. Her eyes never leave me, and I feel myself shrinking under her glare. "I knew you were trouble the moment you walked in."

I want to defend myself, to explain that I have no idea what's happening either, but the words stick in my throat. Instead, I find myself pressing closer to Chase, seeking comfort in his solid presence.

"That's enough," Grayson's voice rumbles through his chest. "Juniper, Morgan I think it's best if you both leave. We can discuss this later."

The tension in the room ratchets up another notch, and I wonder absently if this is what it feels like to be in the eye of a storm. Calm for now, but with chaos swirling just beyond reach.

Before anyone can respond, Morgan's shrill voice cuts through the air like a knife. "You!" she screams, her eyes locking onto me with venomous intensity. I flinch instinctively, pressing back against Chase's chest.

"Did you stalk me and find out where my boyfriend was living so you could try to steal him, you homewrecking slut?" The woman's face is contorted with rage, her words dripping with venom.

I blink, completely blindsided. "What? I...I don't even know who you are," I stammer, my mind reeling. Chase's arm tightens protectively around me, and I'm grateful for the support.

Cole’s brows knit together in confusion, his usual calm slipping. He glances at me, clearly searching for answers I don’t have. But when his eyes land on my bewildered expression, something shifts. His posture straightens, his jaw tightens, and the storm brewing in his gaze suggests he’s beginning to piece something together.

“She doesn’t know you, Morgan,” Cole says, his voice like steel. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

But then it clicks. The memory slams into me like a freight train, and I gasp. My heart pounds against my ribcage as the realization sinks in.

Idoknow this woman.

It’s the same sharp features, the same perfect hair, the same icy demeanor. She’s the bitch who got me fired.

“You,” I whisper, my voice trembling with a mix of shock and anger.

Morgan’s face twists into a self-satisfied smirk, clearly interpreting my recognition as guilt. “Oh, so you do remember me,” she sneers.

“I remember you,” I say, stepping slightly out of Chase’s protective hold, even though my legs feel like jelly. "You're the woman who got me fired."

---