Chapter 214
“I’ll just go check the napkins,” Jocelyn muttered. She walked out — but she didn’t go far. She stopped just around the corner, hidden by a stack of banquet chairs. She needed to know what was going on.
Inside the storage room, the space felt impossibly small.
“The report isn’t ready,” Carmen said, backing up a step. “I’m still counting.”
“Drop the ‘Senator,’” he repeated, his voice lower, rougher. “Call me Justin.”
He took a step toward her.
L𝗮𝘁e𝗌𝘁 𝘤h𝖺р𝗍е𝘳𝗌 𝘰ո 𝘨a𝗅𝗇𝘰𝗏𝗲𝗅s.со𝗆
Carmen flustered. She tried to squeeze past him toward the door, clutching a box of files against her chest like a shield.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, keeping her eyes on the floor.
He didn’t move. He stood like a wall in her path.
She tried to sidestep him. Her heel caught on a loose floorboard.
She pitched forward. The box of files flew from her arms, papers scattering like confetti.
“Ah!”
Justin moved — fast, instinctive, undeniable.
He caught her by the waist with one arm, hauling her against him before she could hit the floor. His other hand shot out and caught the falling box with effortless precision.
Carmen slammed into his chest. It was like colliding with solid stone. She could feel his heartbeat through his suit jacket — heavy, powerful, steady.
A cup of coffee sitting on the nearby shelf wobbled from the impact and tipped over. Brown liquid splashed down the front of Justin’s expensive navy suit.
“Oh god! Your suit!” Carmen gasped.
She pulled back, horrified, grabbed a microfiber cloth from the shelf, and began dabbing frantically at his lapel.
“I’m so sorry! I’m so clumsy! This is Italian wool, isn’t it?”
Justin caught her hand.
“Stop.”
He held her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. He looked down at her with dark, dilated eyes. He didn’t even glance at the stain.
“It’s just a suit,” he said. “Are you hurt?”
Carmen looked up. The intensity of his gaze pinned her in place. She felt breathless, unsteady.
“I… I’m fine,” she stammered. “I’m just… overwhelmed.”
“You’re not clumsy,” he said quietly. “You’re exhausted.”
He released her hand slowly, his fingers trailing against her skin for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
“Take the afternoon off,” he said.
“I can’t,” Carmen protested, recovering a sliver of her professional composure. “The merger reports, the quarterly audit — Senator, with all due respect, my duties don’t allow for personal time on a whim.”
“This isn’t a whim. It’s an executive directive,” Justin said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “As the majority stakeholder on the board, I am officially ordering you to take paid leave for the remainder of the day. Your well-being is an asset to this company, and right now your exhaustion is a liability. Go home, Carmen. Rest.”
Carmen stared at him, mute. He had framed it in a way she couldn’t refuse without being insubordinate. She nodded, grabbed her purse, and fled the room, her heart pounding so hard she was certain he must have heard it.
Justin watched her go. He touched the coffee stain on his chest, then raised his fingers to his nose. It smelled of coffee and — beneath it — vanilla. Her perfume.
.
.
.