Chapter 8
Charlotte's POV:
A flash of panic crossed Qiana's tear-streaked face. She rushed forward and grabbed Mason's arm.
"It's all my fault. I shouldn't have come to ask about her progress on the Windsor Group gift. She clearly has no experience with this kind of thing — I was pushing her too hard..."
The broken sobs. The swollen, red cheeks. She really did look pitiful.
Mason's eyes narrowed. He turned to look at me. "Charlotte, you're still an employee of this company. What's wrong with asking about your progress? Is this your idea of a professional attitude?"
The second time he'd spoken to me like that.
The first time, it was blind rage. Now? Now he was riding in on his white horse for her.
Just as I thought. Next to Qiana, I was nothing to him.
I tapped the folder on the desk. "I already delivered the gift to Robert. He was pleased with it. He's optimistic about the partnership between our two companies. It's all in my report."
I didn't even bother defending myself against Qiana's lies.
Mason wouldn't have listened anyway. He didn't want to. He refused to believe a word out of my mouth.
"He was pleased? You gave him a gift and he was pleased? I don't know anything about this. So now you're lying and bragging?"
"Whether it's a lie or not — why don't you just look?" I stepped forward and held out the folder, my gaze steady and calm.
Mason's brow furrowed. His eyes dropped to the folder in my hand. He almost reached for it.
Qiana burst into fresh sobs before he could. "My face hurts so bad. What if I'm scarred? How am I supposed to face anyone like this?"
"It was one slap. How does that make you unable to face anyone?" I glanced at her. "Besides, it would only take a few seconds to look at the report. Didn't you just say I wasn't capable of—"
"Ah!"
The words died in my throat.
Mason shoved me — hard.
I wasn't braced for it. Add the heels, and I went straight down, hitting the floor with a crash.
Pain exploded through me. The color drained from my face. For a moment, I couldn't move at all.
"How are you becoming more and more unreasonable?" He looked right past my pain and piled on the blame. "She asked about your work progress. Why couldn't you just show her the report instead of putting your hands on her? And now you're still being aggressive? Charlotte, I really misjudged you."
He dropped those words like a verdict, then walked Qiana out with a soft voice and a gentle hand.
I stayed on the floor. Papers scattered around me.
I felt utterly ridiculous.
They thought I was useless. Incompetent. So why was I still doing any of this for the Scott Group?
I pulled myself together and grabbed the edge of the desk to stand — and that's when I felt it. My ankle. I'd twisted it in the fall.
Great. Just great. Nothing good ever came from running into those two.
I bit through the pain, gathered the folder, and limped my way to the hospital.
"Ms. York?"
I'd barely stepped through the entrance when I heard Damon's voice behind me.
I turned — and the first person I saw was Robert.
He was impossible to miss. The looks, the height, the sheer presence of the man — he was the kind of person your eyes found automatically in any room.
"Mr. Windsor. Mr. Gray." I smiled and gave a small nod, not particularly wanting to get into the details. "Twisted my ankle. Just came to have it checked out."
Robert glanced down at my foot, then back up at my face. "You really do find ways to hurt yourself. Feels like you're here every other day."
I had no response to that.
I was perfectly healthy. And yet I couldn't argue.
Two encounters, and both of them ended here. The first time, he'd brought me in himself. The second, a chance run-in. Who could I even complain to?
I laughed, a little awkwardly. "Are you here for an appointment, Mr. Windsor?"
"No. Visiting someone."
Short. Final. Carrying that particular brand of cold that said back off. Something tightened in my chest.
Too nosy?
Fair enough. A man like him kept his movements private. I had no business asking.
I mentally kicked myself and kept my smile in place. "Then I won't hold you up. I'll go get checked—"
The ground disappeared.
A second later, I was off my feet entirely — cradled against his chest.
"Mr. Windsor!" My hands flew to his neck on instinct. The startled sound escaped before I could stop it.
"You twisted your ankle and you're still wandering around on it." He gave me a cool, sidelong look. "You want to do permanent damage?" He turned to Damon. "Go check her in. I'll take her to the doctor first."
Check in first, paperwork later.
The phrase floated into my head from nowhere. Warmth crept up my face.
Robert was... a lot, up close. The warmth of him. The solid certainty of being held like this. It did something to a person's pulse that was genuinely difficult to ignore.
No wonder his name trended online every few weeks with girls dramatically declaring they'd do anything for him. The man had an unfair amount of pull.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Hm?" I blinked and looked up — directly into those deep, dark eyes. My breath caught. "N-nothing..."
Then, low and quiet, almost to himself: "How did you manage to hurt yourself again?"
"It was an accident." I answered softly, eyes down.
But inside, something was unraveling.
A near-stranger — someone I'd met twice — was carrying me through a hospital and asking if I was okay.
My husband had pushed me to the floor and walked away with another woman.
The weight of it settled over me all at once. When I spoke again, my voice had gone slightly thick. "Thank you, Mr. Windsor."
Qiana sat in the waiting area and silently cursed Charlotte out for the hundredth time.
That little witch had actually hit her.
No. Mason needed to deal with Charlotte. Properly.
Charlotte had delivered a gift to Robert — and he'd liked it? Was actually open to moving forward with the partnership?
Qiana turned it over in her mind, already calculating how to make sure that credit landed on her name instead.
Then, out of the corner of her eye—
Charlotte. Being carried by some man up the stairs.
"Shameless little tramp." Qiana whipped out her phone and snapped a rapid series of photos, then hit dial on Mason, who'd gone to pick up her prescription.
"Mason, where are you? Get over here — I think I just saw Charlotte. She's... she's with a man. They look close..."
The line went dead before she finished.
What—?
Mason came sprinting around the corner, shirt damp, face like a storm. "Where is she?"
He cared.
That single thought sat wrong with Qiana. How was there still room for Charlotte in his head?
Didn't matter. She'd fix that soon enough.
She smoothed her expression into something reassuring. "Don't panic. Maybe she got hurt and a friend brought her in. Look — I took pictures."
In the photos, Charlotte was curled against the man's chest, small and comfortable.
The image lit something ugly in Mason's eyes.
"Where did they go?"
"Upstairs. Come on — let's go look. Just stay calm." Qiana kept her voice soothing, but her mind was already running ahead.
By the time they caught up with Charlotte, she was going to make sure everyone walked away convinced she was having an affair.
Charlotte's POV:
The doctor's office.
After the exam confirmed there was no real damage to my ankle, I turned to Robert right away. "I've taken up enough of your time. I'm fine — please, go ahead."
He said a few more words to the doctor before finally turning to leave.
That steady, grounding presence of his — the kind that made a room feel safer — left a hollow ache in my chest the moment it was gone.
My husband, on the other hand...
The thought hadn't even finished forming when the door flew open.
Mason stormed in, face tight with fury. "Where is he?"
