Chapter 9 - The Private Study
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Vanessa’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of red. She opened her mouth to argue, but the sheer, icy menace in James’s posture silenced her. She spun on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, the heavy doors swinging violently in her wake.
I stood by the island, my hands shaking uncontrollably as the adrenaline crashed.
James walked straight past me, entirely ignoring the tension in the room. He walked right up to the kitchen island, picked up a blue crayon, and sat down on the stool directly next to a wide-eyed Chloe.
“I think,” James said softly, looking at her drawing, “that this dragon needs some blue scales. What do you think, Chloe?”
Chloe stared at him for a second before a huge, radiant smile broke across her face. “Yes! Dragons love blue!”
I watched the billionaire CEO color a dragon for twenty minutes until Chloe was happily distracted. Only then did he look up at me, signaling with a tilt of his head toward his private study down the hall.
I followed him into the massive, wood-paneled room. The moment the heavy oak doors closed behind us, the professional boundary between us seemed to evaporate.
“I am so sorry, James,” I blurted out, wrapping my arms around myself. “I didn't mean to cause a scene with your COO. I know she is important to the company.”
James sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He walked over to a crystal decanter, poured a small glass of whiskey, and leaned against his mahogany desk.
“Vanessa is a highly effective executive,” James said, his voice exhausted. “But she is a terrible human being. You never have to apologize for protecting your daughter in my house, Grace. Never.”
He looked down at his glass, swirling the amber liquid.
“When I was ten years old,” James whispered, his voice cracking slightly, “my father died. My mother and I lost everything. We lived in a rusted-out station wagon for six months. I remember what it feels like to be hungry, Grace. I remember what it feels like to have people look right through you like you are trash.”
I stared at him, my heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his eyes.
He looked up, meeting my gaze with a fierce, profound intensity.
“I worked my entire life to build this empire so no one could ever look down on me again,” James continued softly, setting his glass down and taking a step toward me. “When I saw you shivering in that restaurant, shielding your daughter with your own coat... I didn't see a maid. I saw a warrior.”
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He closed the distance between us, stopping just inches away.
“I didn't hire you out of pity, Grace,” he murmured, his dark eyes dropping to my lips. “I hired you because you are exactly the kind of strength I want in my life.”
