Page 6

As I step into the backseat of the car with Oleg, my mind drifts—not to the rising sales at Empire City Estates or the impressive social media campaign that skyrocketed us to new heights—but to her.

Jennifer.

She’s been in my head for weeks, invading my thoughts when I least expect it. Every time I try to focus on something else, her image creeps in. The memory of that night, how she felt under my hands, the way she looked at me with those wide, innocent eyes—it haunts me. It pisses me off too. How the hell did she just leave without saying anything? No note, no goodbye, nothing. She slipped away like it meant nothing.

Oleg glances over, smirking. “You hear about the intern who caused all this buzz?”

I blink, pulling myself back to the present. “What?”

“The sales spike,” Oleg continues, clearly amused. “Apparently, some intern in the marketing department managed to make a few posts go viral. It’s why we’re seeing such a rise in leads. Some kid working her way up the ladder. Impressive, no?”

“An intern,” I mutter, half listening, my thoughts still trailing back to Jennifer. I clench my jaw, annoyed that I’m even thinking about her. I’ve had plenty of women, but none of them left this kind of mark on me. None of them made me feel this restless.

“She’ll be at the meeting,” Oleg adds, clearly oblivious to my internal battle. “I’m curious to see who managed to outdo the entire marketing team.”

I nod absentmindedly, my mind still on Jennifer. I remember the way she reacted to my touch, the way her body responded to mine, the soft gasps she let out when I pushed her to the edge. She enjoyed every second of it—there’s no doubt about that. So why the hell has she been avoiding me?

It’s not like I’m new to one-night stands. Women don’t usually affect me this way, but there was something different about her. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s more than just another distraction. Maybe it’s the challenge of it. Or maybe it’s something else. Something I don’t want to admit.

Oleg’s voice pulls me back to reality again. “What’s with that look?”

I glance at him, forcing my expression to relax. “Nothing.”

He grins knowingly. “Still thinking about that girl, huh?”

I glare at him, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s right. “Let’s focus on the meeting.”

“Sure, sure,” Oleg says, chuckling, clearly not fooled. He leans back in his seat, but I can feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye.

It’s frustrating. I should be focused on this meeting, on the empire I’m building, but I can’t stop thinking about how Jennifer slipped through my fingers. It shouldn’t matter. She shouldn’t matter. Damn it, I want her again.

The car pulls up to the office building, and I step out, adjusting my suit jacket. I need to shake this off. Get my head back in the game. As we head to the boardroom, all I can think about is finding her again. This time, I’m not letting her disappear so easily.

We make our way through the hallways of the Empire City Estates headquarters, and Oleg is still talking about the intern, probably excited to see the newbie in action. I don’t pay much attention, but I catch snippets of praise from other employees as we walk by. Apparently, this intern is making waves. Good for her.

Oleg is still rambling about the intern, but I only half listen. My mind is preoccupied, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Jennifer and focus on the task at hand.

As we approach the meeting room, a few familiar faces greet me—executives, board members, all of them eager to kiss up, throwing compliments my way. I nod in acknowledgment, keeping my responses short. I’ve never been one for small talk. I’m here for business, not pleasantries.

“Mr. Sharov.” The CEO, Mitchell Hayes, steps forward, his hand extended. He’s a tall man, always polished and put together, but there’s an edge to him—a man who knows the stakes of being in my good graces. “Good to see you.”

“Likewise,” I say, shaking his hand.

Hayes motions toward the room. “Shall we?”

Inside, the boardroom is all marble and dark wood, a place designed to scream power and prestige. The long, polished table is already lined with folders and notes, the screen at the front lit up with charts and numbers. The rest of the board members filter in, taking their seats. Oleg and I settle near the head of the table, where Hayes prepares to start.

“Thank you all for being here,” Hayes begins, his voice commanding the room’s attention. “Before we get into specifics, I want to extend my gratitude to all of you. This past quarter has been one of our best yet, and it’s all thanks to the hard work and dedication of our teams.”

There’s a murmur of approval from the board members, and Hayes glances down at his notes before continuing.

“Empire City Estates has seen a substantial rise in profits, thanks to several successful campaigns and strategies. The real estate market has been favorable, and we’ve capitalized on it effectively. Our recent online engagement has skyrocketed, and our social media presence—thanks to some fresh talent—has driven in new clients, both corporate and individual.”

I listen intently, even though I already know the numbers. My businesses don’t just run themselves, no matter how much I delegate. My eyes skim the data on the screen—a five percent increase in leads, a fifteen percent uptick in closed deals. Good numbers, but nothing new for me.

Oleg leans over, muttering under his breath, “Looks like your investments are paying off. Might need to add another zero to your bank account soon.”

I give him a sideways glance but don’t respond. Wealth is one thing, but control? Control is what I crave. Empire City Estates is just one more avenue that keeps me on top.

Hayes continues, detailing upcoming projects, growth projections, and market trends. I nod along, making mental notes. The meeting moves smoothly, with the usual back-and-forth between the board members. It’s nothing out of the ordinary—just business.

As Hayes concludes his updates and mentions the intern who spearheaded the viral campaign, my interest piques again. He says, “Before we wrap things up, I’d like to highlight one of the rising stars on my team. She’s the one responsible for our recent surge in social media leads. Please welcome Jennifer Jewels.”

I sit back, mildly curious as the door opens, and then I see her.

Jennifer.

She walks in, looking different—glasses, her hair tied back in a neat bun, dressed in formal clothes that hug her frame in a way that makes her look even more professional. She’s polished, composed, and exudes a certain confidence. For a split second, I can see the confusion in her eyes when they land on me. I smirk slightly, wondering if she regrets running off that morning without a word.

Jennifer quickly regains her composure, though. Her expression tightens into one of professionalism as she makes her way to the front of the room. I can’t take my eyes off her. The girl I met that night and the one standing in front of me now seem like two different people. Still, she looks just as beautiful, if not more.

“Thank you, Mr. Russel,” Jennifer begins, her voice steady. “It’s been an incredible experience working on this project, and I’m thrilled that the campaign has been so well-received. I’m here today to share the strategies we employed and the direction I believe we should head to continue building on this success.”

She’s poised, standing tall in front of the room filled with seasoned executives, some of whom have been in the game for decades. Yet, Jennifer doesn’t falter. She starts talking about her strategy—the targeted campaigns, the engagement with their audience, the way they capitalized on current trends to push their message out.

She’s good. No, she’s brilliant.

As I watch her talk, though, a flicker of irritation runs through me. She was smart enough to know she couldn’t stay hidden forever. Seeing her here, confident and successful, should’ve been enough for me to let things go. Instead, it stirs something in me—this need to challenge her, to remind her who I am and that she doesn’t get to just disappear without consequences.

When she finishes, I clear my throat and lean forward. “Jennifer, impressive work.” My voice is calm, but there’s a hard edge to it. “I’m curious, though. Given the nature of the competition we face in this industry, do you think these trends will hold up long term? Or was this a one-off stroke of luck?”

The room goes quiet. A few people shift in their seats, sensing the tension in the air.

Jennifer blinks, taken aback for just a moment. She meets my gaze, her expression neutral, but I can see the spark of determination in her eyes. “With all due respect, Mr. Sharov, these were carefully crafted strategies, not luck. We monitored engagement closely and adapted in real-time. I’m confident that with the right approach, we can sustain this momentum.”

I don’t smile. I raise an eyebrow, tapping my fingers against the table. “Confident, are you?”

“Yes,” she replies, her tone firm. “Confidence is necessary in marketing. Without it, you’re bound to fail.”

Her words hang in the air, and I can’t help but feel impressed. She isn’t backing down. She’s meeting my challenge head-on, and I like it. I’m not done testing her yet.

“Alright,” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Let’s put that confidence to the test.” I glance at the others around the table, all of whom are watching the exchange with interest, before turning my gaze back to her. “I’m going to give you a challenge, Jennifer. If you’re as capable as you say, you’ll have no problem with it.”

Her eyes narrow slightly, intrigued but cautious. “What’s the challenge?”

I smirk, enjoying this little game. “You’ll lead the next major campaign. Full control. You’ll handle everything from conception to execution. If it succeeds, we’ll talk about a permanent position for you here. If it doesn’t….” I leave the rest unsaid, letting the implication hang in the air.

Jennifer hesitates, just for a second. The room is tense, everyone watching her closely, waiting to see what she’ll say. She could back down, make an excuse, say she’s not ready. I know she won’t.

“I accept,” she says, her voice steady. “I’ll prove that I’m as capable as I say I am.”

The board members murmur in approval. Russel shoots her an encouraging look, clearly proud of her for standing up to me.

“Good,” I reply, leaning forward again, my eyes locked on hers. “Let’s see if you can handle it.”

She nods, her jaw set, clearly determined to prove herself. As she steps away from the front of the room, I can’t help but feel a thrill. Jennifer’s sharp, determined, and she’s not afraid of a challenge. She’s going to be interesting to watch.

The meeting wraps up, and as people start to leave the room, I catch her eye again. She doesn’t look away, but there’s something different in her gaze—an acknowledgment, maybe, or a challenge of her own.

Game on.

Chapter Seven - Jennifer

As I walk toward the public transport station, the weight of what just happened presses down on me. My footsteps are quick, but my mind races even faster. What was I thinking? Taking on a challenge like that, especially in front of everyone, and most of all, him ? I took the bait in the heat of the moment, letting my pride take over, but now, the reality of the situation is sinking in. What if I fail?

I feel a tight knot forming in my stomach as I stop at the curb, my thoughts swirling with doubt. The bus is still a few minutes away, and I don’t even know if I can think straight at this point. I take a deep breath, hoping the cool air will calm me down.

Just then, a sleek black SUV pulls up next to me, its engine purring softly. The window slides down, and my heart sinks. It’s Timur in the backseat, being driven by a chauffer.

“Get in,” he says, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

It doesn’t sound like a request—it sounds like an order. I hesitate, my pulse quickening. Timur’s sharp eyes are on me, waiting, and I know there’s no escaping this. He’s the chairman of the company I work for now, and whether I like it or not, I can’t afford to be disrespectful. Not after everything that just went down in the boardroom. I can’t risk being seen as uncooperative.

I glance at the bus stop one last time before pulling the car door open and sliding in.

The leather seats are cool beneath me, and I can feel his presence as we pull back into traffic. The silence between us is thick, uncomfortable. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s still the same—a presence that commands attention without even trying. His jaw is tight, though his hands and body appear relaxed. Everything about him radiates power and confidence, and it makes me even more uneasy.

“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” he starts, breaking the silence, his voice calm but with a hint of something darker. “But I’m glad we’ve finally crossed paths again.”

I keep my gaze forward, trying to focus on anything but him. The passing streets, the sound of the car’s engine, the weight of his words. I know I can’t avoid this conversation, but that doesn’t mean I have to make it easy for him.

“Just business,” I reply shortly, keeping my tone as neutral as possible.

He chuckles, a low, deep sound that sends a shiver down my spine. “Business. Is that what we’re calling it now?”

I don’t respond. I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of looking at him.

“You didn’t think you could sneak away without saying anything, did you?” His voice is teasing, pushing at me, testing me.

I finally turn my head, meeting his eyes for the first time since I got in the car. He’s watching me closely, the corner of his lips curled into a grin. God, why does he have to be so attractive? I hate that my pulse quickens just from looking at him. He knows the effect he has on me, and I hate that too.

“It was just one night,” I say bluntly, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. My voice is steady, but inside I’m a mess. “It meant nothing.”

His grin widens, and I immediately regret my words. He doesn’t believe me. Hell, I barely believe me. But I can’t let him know that.

“Is that what you’re telling yourself, Jennifer?” he asks, his tone mockingly gentle. “That it meant nothing? Because from where I was standing, it looked like it meant a hell of a lot more.”

I swallow hard, feeling the heat spread from my cheeks to my neck. “It was just one night,” I repeat, even though the words taste bitter on my tongue. I’m trying to protect myself, to keep my emotions in check, but it’s so much harder when he’s sitting right next to me, looking at me like that.

Timur watches me, his fingers slowly drumming against the seat. His eyes never leave mine, and it feels like he’s seeing right through the mask I’m trying so hard to wear.

“If that’s what you want to believe, fine,” he says, his voice soft but laced with something that makes my heart race. “You should know, Jennifer, I’m not the kind of man who forgets things that easily.”

The car pulls up in front of my dorm apartment building, and I can barely breathe. My hands are clenched in my lap, and my mind is a whirl of emotions I don’t know how to handle. Before I can say anything, he leans in slightly, his eyes still locked on mine.

“Next time,” he murmurs, “don’t run.”

I finally turn to him, my voice sharper than I intended. “Why do you always do that?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Do what?”

“Belittle me. Challenge me like you’re testing how far you can push.” My hands clench in my lap, and I feel the words spilling out before I can stop them. “I worked hard to get that internship. I deserve to be there. You of all people should know that.”

Timur stays silent for a moment, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he’s holding back a smirk. “You think I’m trying to belittle you?” he says slowly, his tone calm but laced with amusement. “I gave you a challenge because I know you can handle it, Jennifer. If I didn’t think you were capable, I wouldn’t waste my time.”

“Waste your time?” I scoff, turning my body to fully face him. “You didn’t seem too concerned about wasting your time a month ago when—”

“Careful,” he interrupts, his voice suddenly lower, a warning tone slipping into it. “You’re walking a fine line.”

I feel my pulse quicken, but I refuse to back down. “You know what? Forget it. You don’t get to play games with me, Timur. I don’t care how powerful you are, or how important your stupid company is.”

He doesn’t respond right away, just watches me with those unreadable eyes. The weight of his gaze is almost unbearable, but I don’t look away. I can’t. The frustration bubbling inside me is too much to contain.

Then I realize something. We’ve been sitting outside my dorm this whole time. My frustration briefly shifts into confusion as I glance out the window.

“Wait… how did you know where I live?” I ask, my voice softening slightly, caught off guard by this revelation.

He smirks, the same infuriating grin that always seems to push me over the edge. “I own the company, Jennifer. Keeping track of an employee’s records, including their address, isn’t exactly difficult.”

My mouth drops open slightly, a mix of annoyance and shock coursing through me. He says it so casually, as if it’s no big deal. Of course, he’s that kind of man—the type who knows everything about everyone around him.

I let out a huff of frustration and open the door, stepping out of the car before I say something I’ll regret. “Let’s just forget about it,” I mutter, my voice barely audible as I close the door behind me. “Whatever happened between us—it’s in the past. It meant nothing.”

Before he can respond, I turn on my heel and march toward the dorm entrance, my heart racing. I hear the car pull away behind me, but I don’t look back. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I’m still thinking about him—about that night. About everything.

As soon as I reach my room, I slam the door shut and lean against it, letting out a shaky breath. The worst part isn’t that he turned out to be my boss. No, that’s not what’s eating away at me.

It’s the secret I’ve been holding on to for weeks, the one that’s been keeping me up at night, making my thoughts spiral in every direction. I walk over to my desk, where a file sits open, the papers spread out in front of me. My hands tremble as I pick up the report—the one that confirmed everything.

I’m pregnant.

I stare down at the words, my vision blurring as the reality of the situation settles in again. I’m carrying Timur’s child. The man I tried to forget about, the man who I thought I could walk away from without any complications.

Now, I’m tied to him in a way I never expected.

My hand drifts to my stomach, the weight of the secret crushing me all over again. How do I tell him? Should I even tell him? Part of me wants to run again, to pretend this isn’t happening. I can’t.

I glance at the mirror across the room, seeing my reflection—my face pale, my eyes wide with uncertainty. I’m not ready for this. None of this was part of the plan. Not Timur, not the pregnancy, not the confusion that’s gnawing at me from the inside out.

I let out a shaky breath, closing the file and pushing it away. What am I going to do?