Asher was no different either, but masked it with his usual deviant demeanor. His steps clipped, precise and his expression, unreadable as he walked out. The door clicking shut behind him like punctuation on something he wasn't ready to name. He didn't glance back nor slowed down.
But the sensation still clung to him. Her heat. The ghost of her gasp.The feel of her thigh under his hand. The look in her eyes. Not that of fear but of defiance. As if to challenge him.
"Asher," Reese called out the moment he spotted him striding down the hall. His ever-casual tone trying to pin levity in the air. "How did the session go?" He asked, catching up on him. "Did she crack the billionaire shell yet, or— ?"
Asher didn't break stride. Neither did he even blink in his direction. Intuitively, Reese's smile faltered.
"Alright then," he muttered, jogging slightly to match up his pace. "You good, man?" He sounded concerned, but whatever else he was about to say was sliced short the moment they both stepped through the glass doors into Asher's office.
And froze.
Seated inside with the ease of a man who believed the world belonged to him, was Robert Cross. Mr. Cross. Asher's father.
His presence filled the space effortlessly. Perfectly tailored three-piece suit, wristwatch gleaming, a tumbler of something dark and expensive in his hand, despite the early hour. He didn't look up immediately. He didn't need to.
Reese noticed Asher stiffened beside him, jaw clenched. The air in the room thickened. Robert finally lifted his gaze, cool and appraising.
"Asher," he said smoothly. A single nod. "Glad to see you're on time for once. I thought therapy might make you soft."
There was no smile from Asher's end. Only a flicker of amusement in his eyes— cold, clinical. Reese cleared his throat and stepped slightly to the side, unsure if he should leave or stay.
Asher didn't answer to him. Rather, he moved further into the room, expression a study in restraint. His fury hidden behind years of practiced control.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice sharp and low.
Robert took a slow sip of his drink, then placed it on the desk. Asher's desk.
"I wanted to see how things were going now that you're back in the spotlight. New board initiatives, PR recovery and, of course, your... assigned babysitter."
His mouth curled faintly at that last word. A not-so-subtle nod toward Jade. "You've made headlines already. Again." He paused briefly, "You're welcome, by the way."
Asher's jaw ticked. Reese looked between them, visibly uncomfortable. "Should I— "
"Stay," Asher snapped, cutting him shirt. His eyes never leaving his father. "You're already part of this circus anyway." His voice low this time.
Robert chuckled, slow and knowing. "I see the temper is still there. Maybe you haven't changed as much as I hoped."
Asher stepped closer to his desk, hands braced on the edge. with intimidation surging at the surface. "I didn't ask you to come."
"You never do." Robert shrugged, standing now, towering but calm. "But I figured it was time we had a conversation about your future. Especially now that you're so... emotionally vulnerable."
That was deliberately cruel. Right to hit at home but Asher didn't flinch. Reese on the other hand, felt the pressure building between them like a powder keg.
"And what if I'm not interested in your idea of a future?" Asher asked, his voice cold.
Robert smiled thinly. "Then I suppose Ms. Sinclair will have her work cut out for her, won't she?" He brushed invisible lint from his sleeve and made for the door.
"Let's talk soon, son," he added, voice smooth as scotch. "Before you do something stupid. Again." With that, he was gone.
The office door slam shut, leaving silence in his wake. Asher stood there, unmoving. Rage humming beneath the surface. Reese let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Jesus," he muttered. "That man could freeze hell." Asher's eyes didn't move from the door. But Jade's face flashed in his mind.
Her gasp.
Her eyes.
His hand on her skin.
And suddenly, his father wasn't the only person who had gotten under his skin today.
.
.
.
Jade stepped into the corridor, every click of her heels a sound of elegance. She didn't shake, didn't stumble. But under her skin, fire churned. Her fingers were still tingling from where they had curled into the edge of the desk. Her skirt smoothed, hair in place— composure wrapped around her like armor. But inside?
He had touched her.
Worse? —he had left her.
And what's with that look in his eyes? She scoffed, inaudible but clearly agitated. The fury, that burn low in her abdomen, wasn't just anger. It was something far more dangerous.
She needed air.
Or control.
Or him, shackled and begging for mercy. The thought disgusted her. It also thrilled her. She turned the corner sharply, lost in her own thoughts —and collided.
Not with a wall, neither a client. But with a man who looked at her like he already knew what she was made of. Older. Distinguished. A predator adorned in luxury and time.
He didn't move back. Didn't apologize. He only lifted an eyebrow in the most irritatingly amused way she did ever seen.
"Ms. Sinclair, I presume."
She blinked, caught off guard.
"Do I know you?" Jade sounded as confused as she looked. Not visibly but composed.
Robert smiled, practiced and sharp. "No. But I make it my business to know the people touching my empire. And judging from the look on your face… you and my son just had a very enlightening session."
Her stomach twisted— because now she knew who he was. Robert Cross. Asher's father. The way his eyes lingered over her— curious, cool, clinica; made her feel more naked than Asher's gaze ever had.
"I'm not sure what business you think you're in, Mr. Cross," she said, straightening, tone cutting. "But therapy doesn't report to boardrooms."
"Doesn't it?" he countered smoothly, stepping slightly closer. "Because from what I gather, you're doing more than just taking notes in that office."
Jade didn't flinch. Not when he towered over her. Not when he tried to corner her. She tilted her chin. "If you have an issue with your son, take it up with him. Not me."
Robert's eyes gleamed. "Oh, I plan to. But you see, you're the new variable. The potential leverage."
She almost laughed. "You think I'm leverage?"
"I think you're fire. And my son…" He gave a slow shake of his head. "My son has always been too eager to burn."
That got to Jade. Cold. Heavy. Then he stepped past her, not without a final remark, low and deliberate:
"You should watch your heart, Ms. Sinclair. Cross men are very good at using them." And with that, he was gone.
Jade stood frozen in the hallway. Her heart, steady but her mind? Already spinning with what the hell she had just stepped into.
But somehow, she was ready. Ready for what this task comes with.