Chapter 3

The car ride wasn't long enough for me to figure out what the hell I'd just agreed to. Or maybe it was too long, because every minute of silence in that glossy black town car stretched until I could hear my own pulse. Teddy didn't say a word. Not about why we were going. Not about what to expect. Not even a warning like, "Don't mention politics" or "My father thinks oat milk is a conspiracy." Nothing. Just stared out the tinted glass like Manhattan didn't deserve his attention today.

I sat there, clutching my notepad like it could save me from whatever this was. My phone buzzed with two missed calls from HR... probably wanting clarity on the "Tuesday Casualties" and a dozen emails from the board's assistant asking why the quarterly review was being moved without explanation. I ignored them all. There was a certain order to my job: Teddy's whims first, corporate disasters second, my sanity dead last.

We crossed into the quiet part of the city where glass skyscrapers gave way to stone mansions with gates that probably cost more than my apartment building. Then the car turned into a drive lined with trees so perfectly spaced it felt fake. The Fox estate. I'd heard whispers about it in the office... old-money fortress, guarded like Fort Knox, the kind of place where staff had been there so long they practically counted as furniture.

The driveway curved forever until the house came into view. House was the wrong word. This was a palace pretending to be humble by hiding behind beige stone and black shutters. Four stories, wings on either side, and windows so tall they probably needed their own cleaning crew.

The car stopped at the front steps. Two men in dark suits stood on either side of the door. Not security guards in the bouncer sense, security in the "I have an earpiece and probably know three ways to kill you with a dinner fork" sense.

The driver opened my door first. I stepped out, and instantly regretted every wardrobe choice I'd made that morning. Pencil skirt, silk blouse, sensible heels. Perfect for the Fox Global office. Utterly underdressed for the kind of luncheon where people probably wore pearls to eat soup.

Teddy didn't wait for me. He was halfway up the steps before I caught up, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable. The door opened without him knocking... of course... and we were met by a woman in a black dress and white apron. "Good afternoon, Mr. Fox," she said with a warm-but-not-too-warm smile. Her eyes flicked to me, taking in every detail before she added, "Miss."

Inside smelled like money and old wood. High ceilings, marble floors, rugs I was afraid to step on. A chandelier big enough to crush me if it fell. Paintings of stern-looking ancestors lined the hallway, every one of them with the Fox jawline and eyes that said I own you.

"This way," the woman said, leading us down a hall until the smell of food started creeping in. Roasted something. Garlic. Fresh bread. My stomach reminded me I'd skipped breakfast in favor of coffee and panic.

We reached a set of double doors, polished so perfectly I could see my own worried face reflected in them. The woman opened them, and there it was: the Fox family dining room. Long table, white linen, enough silverware to start a small armory. Floor-to-ceiling windows spilling sunlight across arrangements of white lilies and crystal glasses.

At the head of the table sat a man who could've been Teddy in twenty-five years if you stripped away the charm and replaced it with stone. Tall even while seated, silver hair perfectly combed, posture like the chair existed to serve him. Mr. Fox Senior. The man whose shadow my boss had spent his entire life outrunning.

To his right sat a woman in cream silk, hair swept into something elegant enough to be in a magazine. Mrs. Fox. She looked softer than her husband, but her eyes were sharp. The kind of sharp that saw you, cataloged you, and filed you into the correct drawer before you'd finished saying hello.

Two other seats were filled. One by a man in his late twenties... younger than Teddy, but the resemblance was there in the cut of his jaw. Probably the infamous half-brother Bianca didn't know she was sleeping with. The other was a woman I didn't recognize, in navy blue and diamonds, with a face that screamed "family friend who knows all the dirt."

"Edward," Mr. Fox said when we stepped inside. Not Teddy. Edward. His given name sounded like a judgment.

"Father," Teddy replied, voice dry enough to soak up a spill.

Mrs. Fox smiled. "And you've brought someone."

I opened my mouth, but Teddy got there first. "My secretary."

The temperature in the room dropped three degrees. Not because of what he said... I was his secretary... but because of how he said it. Flat. Deliberate. Like he wanted them to know this wasn't anything else.

"Jill Matteo," Mrs. Fox repeated, like she was tasting the name. "Join us."

We were seated halfway down the table. A waiter appeared out of nowhere to pour wine into my glass. I muttered a thank you, but he didn't react. Either they weren't allowed to speak, or I was invisible here.

Lunch began. Plates of seared salmon, asparagus, something creamy and expensive. I tried to focus on the food because the conversation was... well, it wasn't mine. The Foxes talked stocks, real estate acquisitions, politics, names I recognized from news headlines. Teddy threw in the occasional one-liner, most of them designed to irritate his father.

At one point, Mrs. Fox leaned toward me. "And how long have you been with my son?"

I nearly choked on asparagus. "At the company? Two years."

Her lips curved. "At the company, of course."

I didn't know if that was a trap, so I just smiled politely and drank more wine.

Halfway through the main course, Mr. Fox set down his fork. The quiet that followed wasn't loud, but it was noticeable... the kind of quiet that said everyone at the table knew something was coming.

"Edward," he began, folding his hands in front of him, "your mother and I have been speaking with the Harrigans."

The name meant nothing to me, but the way Teddy's hand tightened around his wine glass told me it meant something to him.

"They've agreed to our terms," Mr. Fox continued. "The merger will be finalized before the end of the quarter."

Mrs. Fox's smile was all social grace. "And to celebrate the partnership and strengthen it, we've arranged something special."

Teddy didn't move. Didn't blink. "Special."

"You'll be married to Mabel Harrigan," his father said, as if it were already law. "The engagement will be announced at the gala next month."

And there it was. Dropped on the table like a dessert no one had ordered.

I stared at Teddy. He stared at them. No one breathed.