Page 14 of Falling for Mr. Ruthless
This firm became my foundation when everything else crumbled.
All my eggs in one basket. My mother would scold me for that. But single mothers don't get the luxury of diversification.We get one shot, one path forward. One chance to prove we can stand alone.
The lobby is crowded with the afternoon rush—people heading out for late lunches or early departures. I move through them in a daze, pushing through the revolving door into the sharp October air.
I walk two blocks before my phone buzzes. A text from Marina:Where are you? Novare’s people are here.
I stop abruptly, someone bumping into me from behind with a muttered curse. Jakob’s team is in my conference room while I’m absent. Perfect optics for someone building a case about my compromised leadership.
I turn back, walking faster now. Type a response:Stall them. On my way.
The elevator ride back up feels endless. I use the time to rebuild my walls, brick by mental brick. Whatever is happening—whoever is behind it—I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me rattled.
When the doors open, I step out with my shoulders back, chin lifted. The picture of controlled confidence.
Until I see who’s waiting in the hallway outside the conference room.
Jakob.
He’s in profile, talking to someone from his team—a tall man with close-cropped hair who nods at whatever instruction Jakob is giving. Neither notices me immediately, giving me a moment to steel myself against the impact of seeing him in my territory.
Jakob looks exactly as he did in his boardroom—commanding, controlled, untouchable. Except now he’s the one out of place. The one who doesn’t belong.
I clear my throat slightly as I approach. Both men turn.
“Mr. Giannetti.” I nod once. “I wasn’t aware you’d be joining the status update.”
“Ms. Warren.” His eyes hold mine for a beat too long. “Last-minute decision. Hope it’s not an inconvenience.”
“Not at all.” I gesture toward the conference room door. “Shall we?”
The next hour is choreographed professional performance. I present findings. Answer questions. Push back where necessary. All while hyperaware of Jakob’s presence at the far end of the table, his attention steady on my face like a physical touch I can’t brush away.
When the meeting ends, I expect him to leave with his team. Instead, he hangs back, organizing papers that don’t need organizing, until we’re the only two left in the room.
“Don’t.” I say it without looking up from my laptop.
“Don’t what?” His voice is neutral. Careful.
“Don’t pretend this is a coincidence.” I close my laptop, finally meeting his eyes. “You showing up today, of all days.”
He studies me for a long moment, head tilted slightly. “What happened today?”
“Like you don’t know.” I start gathering my things, movements sharp with anger I can’t quite contain. “The security breach. The partners meeting. The convenient discovery of our past connection.”
Understanding dawns in his eyes, followed by something that looks almost like fury. “Chanel?—”
“Save it.” I cut him off, standing abruptly. “I don’t need your explanation. Or your help. I can handle this myself.”
“I’m sure you can.” He doesn’t move from his seat, just watches me with that unnerving steadiness. “But you shouldn’t have to.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I know what’s happening.” His voice drops lower. “And it’s not what you think.”
I laugh, short and sharp. “Enlighten me, then.”
“Not here.” He glances toward the glass walls, the open office beyond where people pretend not to watch us. “My office. Tonight.”
