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Mackenzie

The clock ticks past seven, and it’s like a starter pistol fires in my head. I’m Mackenzie Davis, and my racetrack is an office obstacle course of ringing phones and frantic emails, all demanding immediate attention. Rhys Smalls, my usual boss and the company’s interim CEO, is currently off sipping pina coladas on some impossibly perfect beach for his honeymoon, leaving me to wrangle the business he’s left behind.

We’ve all just returned from the most beautiful wedding in Tuscany for him and his new wife, Jade, and now I’m stuck with the last person I ever wanted to work for—Theo Reed. There isn’t a word strong enough to describe how much I dislike this man. But he volunteered to take over the role while Rhys is enjoying himself with Jade on a friend’s private island off the Amalfi Coast. It’s not like I could stage a protest.

I pivot in my ergonomic chair, fingers flying across the keyboard to reschedule meetings, soothe ruffled managers, and forward critical documents to legal. The scent of industrial-strength coffee clings to the air, a bitter reminder that there isn’t enough caffeine in the world to prep me for what today holds. I miss Rhys’s calculated calm.

Theo was supposed to be back today as well, but he hasn’t checked in, and near as I can tell, he’s nowhere to be found. He’s already off schedule, and that stresses me out. Theo has always had a frenzied unpredictability about him. This works for him as head of operations, but in the CEO’s office, we live and die by the calendar. Thankfully, he’s only in this position for a few weeks. I repeat that to myself, Rhys will be back .

Finally, as if summoned by my silent plea for normalcy, Theo strides into the office. His arrival is anything but subtle. The click of his polished shoes echoes against the wood floor, and he oozes charm and confidence, his bespoke suit hugging him in all the right places. But where others might swoon, I brace myself.

There’s a reason we’re oil and water. He’s all surface, and I prefer to dig deeper than that.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice as smooth as silk, yet somehow it grates on my nerves.

“Theo,” I reply, keeping my tone neutral. My eyes dart to the corner of my tablet screen, noting the time. Every second he spends trying to disarm me with that million-dollar smile is another second lost. I hand him his itinerary for the day without fanfare. “You’re two hours late. I moved your seven thirty to five thirty this evening. Your nine o’clock with Jeannie has been pushed to nine fifteen. And that’s coming up.”

The air between us crackles with a history neither of us can fully ignore. Still, I won’t let it derail me. This office is my domain. But with Theo, each word, each glance carries the weight of our past, and a tension that’s tangible.

“That’s fine,” he says. “I don’t usually get here until nine, but I don’t mind sticking around an hour or two at the end of the day. Thanks for adjusting. Always so efficient,” he replies. The corner of his mouth lifts. It’s not exactly a smirk, but it’s too close for comfort.

“I know you’re only stepping in for a few weeks, but Rhys always starts his day by seven, and we’re lucky if we get out of here by eight at night,” I inform him, refusing to be drawn into whatever game he thinks we’re playing. He’s filling the CEO role temporarily, not bending it to his will.

Theo leans against my desk, arms folded, and I resist the urge to scoot back. His presence is too much, his cologne invading my senses. “Anything else I should be aware of?” he asks, scanning the paper copy of his daily calendar I’ve handed him.

“Everything you need is on there,” I say, refocusing on my computer. My mind is already three steps down the road, plotting the rest of the day.

“Very well.” He straightens, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt. “Let’s hope for a smooth day, shall we?”

I suppress a sigh. With Theo in the driver’s seat, smooth is wishful thinking. But I nod anyway.

Theo disappears into his office, leaving me the chance to breathe and clear a few more emails from Rhys’s inbox. A reminder for Theo’s meeting with Jeannie, our chief financial officer, pops up. It’s due to start in just a few minutes, and Theo is sitting with his feet up on the credenza with a phone attached to his ear.

He’s not working. I raise my eyes to the ceiling. What did I do to deserve this?

A headache spreads from the back of my head to right behind my eyes. I steel myself for another round with EnergiFusion’s temporary head honcho.

“Kenzie,” he calls out without looking up, “grab me a cup of coffee, will you?”

I rise and approach his doorway, arms crossed. “It’s Mackenzie. We’ve discussed this. The coffee machine is two steps from your office. You can get it yourself.”

He glances my way, an eyebrow arching in challenge. “You fetch it for Rhys and Austin without batting an eye. Why not for me?”

“When I did that, they were the CEO, and you’re just the understudy keeping the seat warm while Rhys is away,” I counter.

“Ouch, Mackenzie,” he says, a grin tugging at his lips. “But point taken.”

I turn around to find Jeannie standing at my desk, waiting. He’s officially late now. My frustration simmers. With every tick of the clock, my evening plans fade into a pile of paperwork and late-night taxis.

I face Theo again. “Your meeting with Jeannie was supposed to start five minutes ago, and she’s standing at my desk waiting for you,” I say, trying to shepherd him back to reality.

“Fine, fine,” he replies, waving me off. “Okay, sweetheart. I look forward to seeing you soon,” he says into the phone. “I’ll get it all arranged. Panties are optional.”

My throat tightens with disapproval, and I clear it loudly. “Jeannie is waiting. Now.”

He winks at me. “Got it. Tell the lovely lady on my line that I’ll meet her at the Mark Hotel at seven.” He pauses. “And please make reservations at Boulevard for two at eight tonight. Oh, and book the Emperor’s Suite at the Mark, while you’re at it.”

“Those are personal errands,” I snap. “Not part of my job description. You need to hire a personal assistant. Doing your personal shit isn’t what I get paid for.”

Without another word, I exit and usher Jeannie Young into his office. I don’t envy her next thirty minutes.

As I stalk back to my desk, the hours ahead feel insurmountable, each one a stone in the wall between me and the freedom of nine o’clock tonight.

I slump into my chair, but my fingers move almost on their own, tapping out a message to Tabatha, my bestie who works in marketing for EnergiFusion, before I can second-guess myself.

Me: Coffee break? Julian’s Coffee Cart. Now?

Tabatha: Be there in 5.

I rise, smoothing the front of my blouse, and head toward the elevator. As I descend, I try to shake off the morning’s tension, willing the tightness in my shoulders to subside.

The lobby is bustling, people weaving through corporate life. I navigate to the quiet corner where Julian’s Coffee Cart sits, the rich scent of roasted beans drawing me closer.

“Hey, Kenz.” Tabatha waves from the front of the line, two steaming cups in her hands as she steps aside. “Got you a coffee…but made it a mocha.” Her smile is knowing, her eyes soft with concern.

“Perfect.” I exhale, accepting the cup. The warmth seeps into my palms. We find a vacant table, and I sink into the chair.

“Spill it. How’s your day shaping up?” Tabatha asks.

“Theo was two hours late, and then he had the nerve to call and talk dirty to someone before starting his day. So it’s been a morning of putting out fires.” I sigh. “And he’s doing his best to fan the flames.”

Tabatha nods in sympathy. For a moment, we sit in companionable silence, sipping our coffees as the world spins on around us.

I stir my mocha, watching it swirl into a sweet vortex. “And then he just assumes I’ll do his personal errands,” I grumble. “Dinner reservations, hotel suites—since when is that in my job description?”

Tabatha raises an eyebrow. “Would you have done it for Rhys or Austin?”

“Maybe,” I admit after a sip. “But they wouldn’t have asked. They respect boundaries.”

“Is this about the naked Twister you and Theo played that one time?” Tabatha’s voice drops, tinged with mischief.

“That was over three years ago. Don’t remind me.” I wave off the memory as if shooing away a fly. “That was back when I mistook recklessness for romance. But Rhys will be back in a month, thank God.”

“Speaking of romance…” Tabatha leans in closer. “I haven’t seen you since you returned from Italy. How was the wedding?” She bounces her brow, and I know she’s looking for the down and dirty.

I cut her off before she can say more. “Mark Chapel was nice, but there was zero spark. Still, we had fun. We didn’t even kiss, though, let alone explore anything more.”

“No, not him.” She shakes her head. “Theo. What happened with him?”

“Absolutely nothing.” I roll my eyes, trying not to let her words get to me. “I’m not even sure I know what his date’s name was, but I saw him later with a local woman.”

“I still think that man has it bad for you. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you at the Christmas party.”

“That was four months ago, and I think you need to get your vision checked. Theo has had a constant parade of women since then. I don’t even think he remembers we slept together.”

We finish our coffees, and I stand, feeling a tendril of unease weave through me. As far as I’m concerned, some memories are better left untouched.

I return to the elevator, and when the doors pop open back upstairs, my phone ignites with a barrage of notifications—all from Theo.

Theo: Where are you?

Theo: Respond.

My fingers hover over the keypad, about to type an excuse or apology, when I catch movement through the glass wall of Theo’s office. Jeannie is in full flow, gesturing as she explains something to him, but based on his nods, I can see he’s only half-listening. Then, the elevator doors open, and Daniel Pemberton steps into view.

“Shoot,” I mutter under my breath. I snatch my tablet from the desk, tapping at the screen to reorganize today’s schedule.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I say as I enter Theo’s office. “Theo, Mr. Pemberton has arrived. I’m sorry, Jeannie. Should I try to fit you in the calendar later today?”

“No, but thank you.” She gives Theo a polite nod. “We’ll finish this later.”

Once Jeannie’s heels click out of earshot, Theo swivels his chair toward me, his gaze sharp. “Where did you go?”

I force sweetness into my voice. “I stepped out for a moment. What do you need?”

He leans back, nonchalant, but his eyes are anything but relaxed. “Don’t forget the dinner reservations at Boulevard. And the Emperor’s Suite.”

I stand my ground. “I won’t do it. That’s personal, not professional. If you push it, HR will hear about this.”

His expression shifts. “Is our past going to be a problem?”

I’m ready to explode. I take a deep breath. “It isn’t a problem for me,” I say, turning away. “But I draw the line at being your personal concierge.”

“Can you at least dial Mason Sullivan for me? Put him through once he’s on the line?”

The request hangs in the air, a test of wills. I glare at him, feeling my pulse race with indignation. I take a deep breath, count to five silently, and then concede with a curt nod. “Fine. But that’s where I draw the line. Remember that. You have fingers and can dial a fucking phone.”