Amelia's POV
"Amelia White?"
I turned to see a woman clad in an emerald dress, a dipped neckline that bordered on indecent, yet somehow elegant.
Her mouth parted in a smile as she tilted her head, watching me closely, her golden hook earrings catching the light.
"Yes?"
She gestured down a hallway. "He's expecting you."
She turned on her heel without waiting for a reply. The hallway was silent; the air smelled faintly of polish and aged wood.
Golden chandeliers brightened the air, casting long shadows along the walls.
"So, how do you know Mr. Cane?" she asked.
I gripped the file tighter. I'd been asking that question since I quit my job the day before.
I thought I'd seen all the assholes I could have, but I was wrong. The nerve of him to fire Ashley, my subordinate, when she was only following orders.
"Work."
What the hell was I doing here?
We stopped in front of a door. She turned to me.
"Good luck, dear." She touched my shoulders. "You're going to need it."
A glint in her eyes told me she knew more than she was letting on.
"Wait, what—"
She walked away without so much as a look back. I turned towards the door. I'd come so far.
It was too late to turn back.
I straightened out the crumpled file, taking in deep breaths. I'd let my emotions get the best of me.
I had to get him to sign the contract. It was the only way to save the company…and me.
"Sign the contract and leave." I drew in a steady breath. "You can do this, Amelia."
"Come in," a calm voice said.
The room was dimly lit, amber shadows pooling in the corners. A bar stood across the room, a bartender behind it.
He gave me a subtle nod before turning away. I walked closer to the man seated in the middle of the room.
His hair was tousled, like he'd run his fingers through it. His sleeves were pulled back, his shirt unbuttoned to the middle, exposing his chest.
He leaned back when I met his eyes, his hardened gaze never leaving mine.
"You're late."
I glanced at my wristwatch. "It's exactly 9pm."
He grabbed the glass filled with bourbon. "Punctuality doesn't absolve lateness…Miss White."
I bit my lip. "Of course. I apologize, Mr. Cane."
Anything to get him to sign the damn contract.
"I brought the contract as requested, Mr. Cane." I put down the file on the table. "All you have to do is sign it."
He took a sip of his bourbon without a word. I dug my nails into my palm; every second felt like hell.
I cleared my throat. "Here's a pen."
He downed the rest of the drink and placed the glass on the table before turning to me.
"Isn't there anything you'd like to say to me first?" he asked.
I paused. "Like what?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. There was only one thing he could be referring to.
"I'm not going to apologize for standing up for my subordinate, Mr. Cane."
He tilted his head. "Is that so?"
"She was only following orders," I said.
His brows furrowed. "Hmm."
"Get him to sign the contract. If you fail, I'll make sure the only job you get after this is working as a damn waitress!"
I flinched when I remembered my boss' threat.
I inhaled sharply. Being emotional would do me more bad than good. I had to be reasonable about this.
I needed this job badly.
"I do apologize for hitting you. I never should have done that," I said.
He raised his brows. I met his unflinching gaze.
Even though he started it. This wasn't fair.
"I'm sorry."
He jerked away, breathing heavily. He fisted his palm, jaw clenching.
I frowned. Did he detect the insincerity in my voice?
"Mr. Cane?"
The door opened just then and a woman walked in carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
She bowed deeply before placing the bottle gently on the table. She poured the drinks silently and handed me a glass.
I forced a smile. "Thank you."
She straightened and grabbed the tray. She tripped, spilling the champagne on the expensive rug and on…him.
She gasped in horror at his stained shirt, fingers trembling.
"I-I am so sorry, Mr. Cane. I didn't—"
I placed my glass on the table. "It's fine. It was an accident."
He shrugged off his tie without saying a word.
"I-I…I swear, I was not…"
I grabbed her shoulders. "You're shaking."
Her wide eyes remained on him as she trembled in fear.
"It's okay. It was just an accident. You don't have to—"
The door opened, interrupting me. The woman from earlier ran in, jaw dropped as she stared at the mess.
"What the hell did you do?" she yelled.
She turned to Mr. Cane. "I apologize, Mr. Cane."
He stood up, unbuttoning his shirt all the way through.
"Torah," he called.
The madam bowed. "Yes, Mr. Cane?"
"Replace the drink. And remove her."
My arms went limp. "What?"
The waitress fell to her knees, rubbing her palms together frantically.
"Wait, no. Please, I need this job. I beg you, Mr. Cane," she pleaded.
A pang of sadness hit me seeing her like that. Her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
He walked to the bar, ignoring her. I scoffed.
"Javier, I need your shirt," he said.
Javier nodded before shrugging off his shirt. I watched in shock as he wore Javier's shirt and walked over.
What the hell was going on?
He paused when he saw the girl still on her knees and turned to Torah.
"I won't repeat myself, Torah," he said.
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
She grabbed the girl's shoulders, pulling her up. "Come on."
"Stop."
Three pairs of eyes turned to look at me.
Don't do it, Amelia.
I pulled Torah away from her and turned to him. I grabbed the shirt, fisting it in my palm.
"I'll pay for dry-cleaning, Mr. Cane and reimburse you for the bottle of champagne," I said.
Fuck.
He crossed his legs and stared at me without a word. I turned to the waitress. She was still trembling.
"I'm sorry." I forced a smile. "It's okay, everything's going to be okay."
She nodded quickly before walking away, Torah behind her. I waited until the door was shut before turning to him.
The silence stretched on, each second lasting longer than the previous. I'd met a lot of rich assholes but he—oh, he was something else entirely.
Don't get emotional, Amelia. Don't ruin this deal.
There were so many people depending on me. I should have just minded my business and turned a blind eye.
I was at the risk of losing my job. I had to—
"Sit down, Miss White."
I stared at him. His face was devoid of any emotion. I did as he asked, the shirt dangling from my hand.
It felt expensive.
He reached for the contract. "Tell Mr. Robinson I'll invest."
Relief clouded my senses, making me freeze.
It was easy. Too easy.
"What's the catch?" I asked.
His lips twitched and I caught the glint in his eyes.
"You report directly to me," he said.
"What?" I scoffed. "You're not my boss."
He signed the contract. "From now on, I am."
I stared at him in silence.
He dangled the piece of damning paper in my face. "That means no intermediaries, no reassignment without my approval."
He paused, his smirk growing. "And when I call, you answer."
"That sounds less like an investment and more like—"
"Control?" he cut in. "Yes."
That was it. No explanation. No excuse. Just that one word dangling between us, heavy.
"That's inappropriate. I am not your—"
"You're the clause, Miss White." He placed the piece of paper on the table.
"Without my investment, the company will collapse. Your choice."
My chest tightened. "Why me?"
Was he doing this because I slapped him?
Something flickered in his face, too difficult to name, too fast to recognize. And before I knew it, it was gone.
My brows knitted. Did I imagine it?
"Do we have a deal, Miss White?"
I stood up. "I refuse to be a pawn for your amusement."
He didn't move. Didn't raise his voice.
"You're free to walk away." His eyes met mine. "But we both know you won't."
I thought of my team…and my student debt. I was a long way from paying them off. The promotion that I had at the tip of my fingers.
My legs refused to move even though I willed it to—as if it knew something that I didn't.
That this was never a negotiation. It was a trap and I'd willingly walked right into it.
I turned to him, blood boiling. That damn smirk.
I forced a smile. "Looks like we have a deal, Mr. Cane."