Two Little Secrets From My Boss

Chapter 11

I spent Sunday night rehearsing what I'd say to Xander.

The girls were finally asleep—Lisa clutching her new porcelain doll like a lifeline, Nina sprawled across her bed with her arm dangling off the edge. I stood in their doorway watching them breathe, these two perfect humans I'd created with a man I barely knew.

They deserved to know their father, to have one.

That was the conclusion I kept coming back to, no matter how many times I tried to talk myself out of it.

"The tall man was nice," Nina repeated at least six times since Saturday. "He looked at our drawings for a really long time."

"He said my unicorn was beautiful," Lisa added quietly. "Even mentioned the horn behind the cloud."

Something twisted in my chest. Such a small thing—a grown man taking a child's drawing seriously, noticing the details she'd been so proud of. But Lisa had been talking about it all weekend, replaying the moment like it was precious.

They both had. Nina kept asking when "the Tall Man" would visit again. Lisa had started a new drawing—four figures this time, holding hands. I didn't ask who they were supposed to be. I was too afraid of the answer.

By Monday morning, I'd made my decision. I would accept his help—at least partially.

Not for myself, but for Nina and Lisa. They lit up around him in a way that made my chest ache. Whatever complicated history existed between Xander and me, my daughters didn't deserve to pay the price.

I arrived at the office with my heart pounding, ready to find a private moment with him. Ready to say the words I'd practiced in front of my bathroom mirror: "I've thought about your offer. For the girls' sake, I think we should talk."

But something was different. The entire floor buzzed with unusual energy.

Assistants rushed past me with armfuls of folders. Conference rooms were being prepared with fresh water pitchers and leather portfolios. Someone was arranging elaborate flower arrangements on every available surface.

"What's going on?" I asked Debra at reception, setting down my bag.

She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Big partnership announcement today. The Ashford Group. Major investment deal—we're talking hundreds of millions. Everyone's on edge because Victor Ashford himself is coming to finalize everything."

"Ashford Group? I don't think I've heard of them."

"Old money, massive investment firm. This deal has been in the works for months." Debra's eyes widened as she glanced toward the elevator. "Oh, speak of the devil. That's them now."

The elevator doors slid open. Some woman walked arm-in-arm with a distinguished older man whose silver hair and tailored suit screamed wealth and power

She was stunning—in a designer dress that probably cost more than my monthly rent, honey-blonde hair perfectly styled.

"That's Victor Ashford," Debra murmured. "And his wife, Bianca. Word is she and Xander go way back—knew each other in business school or something."

I watched as Bianca crossed the lobby like she owned it, her heels clicking against the marble with practiced confidence. Her eyes swept the space, cataloging everything and everyone with cool assessment.

Debra continued, oblivious to the ice forming in my stomach.

"Mrs. Ashford will be here a lot over the next few months. Her husband appointed her to oversee the integration process—make sure everything runs smoothly on their end. She's basically his eyes and ears."

Xander emerged from his office to greet them. I watched from my desk as Bianca released her husband's arm and approached Xander with familiar warmthю

Too familiar.

Her hand lingered on his arm, her laugh suggesting shared secrets and inside jokes I'd never understand.

"Xander, darling. It's been too long." Her voice carried across the floor, melodic and perfectly pitched. "Victor's been dying to work with you, and I told him there's no one more driven in this entire city. You haven't changed a bit!"

"Bianca, Victor." Xander's voice was carefully neutral. "It's good to see you."

"I'll be handling the day-to-day coordination myself," she continued, her fingers still resting on his sleeve. "Victor insists on having someone he trusts keeping things on track. You know how he is about details."

She smiled up at Xander with an intimacy that made my stomach turn.

"Just like old times, really. Remember how we used to pull all-nighters working on projects together?"

I looked away. Whatever it is, this is none of my business.

But still something hot and ugly already curled inside my stomach.

An hour later, I was summoned to bring documents to the conference room. I gathered the folders with trembling hands, reminding myself to breathe.

This was just work. I was just an assistant doing her job.

The conference room was all glass walls and expensive furniture. Victor Ashford went away somewhere. Xander stood by the window. And Bianca perched on the edge of a chair like a queen holding court, her legs crossed elegantly, her posture perfect.

"The quarterly projections you requested, Mr. Hale." I set the folders on the table, keeping my voice professional.

Bianca glanced up with a polished smile that didn't reach her ice-blue eyes. "Oh, you must be the new assistant. Daphne, isn't it? I've heard you're doing wonderfully."

"Thank you, Mrs. Ashford."

"Be a dear and fetch us some coffee?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Oat milk for me. And make sure it's hot—I can't stand lukewarm coffee."

"Of course."

She turned back to Xander before I'd even finished speaking, her hand reaching out to touch his.

"Remember that café near the university campus? The one with the terrible pastries but perfect espresso? You always ordered my coffee perfectly. What was it you used to say—that you had my preferences memorized?"

"That was a long time ago, Bianca." Xander's voice was flat.

"Some things don't change." She smiled, her fingers lingering on his knuckles. "We made a good team back then. I have a feeling we'll make an even better one now."

I retreated before I could hear his response.

In the break room, I stood with my hands braced against the counter, trying to steady my breathing. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The coffee maker gurgled its bitter, impersonal brew.

What was I thinking?

I didn't belong in his world. I saw that now with painful clarity.

This was a world of designer clothes and billion-dollar deals, of women like Bianca who shared years of history with the man I could barely look at without trembling.

Women who knew which café he used to frequent, how he took his coffee, what he was like before he built his empire.

I was just the woman he'd slept with once and forgotten. The mother of children he'd never meant to have. The assistant who fetched coffee and filed paperwork and pretended she didn't notice the way his old friend touched him.

The offer of help that had seemed so generous on Saturday now felt like charity. Like pity from a man who'd moved on to bigger things and better people.

My pride wouldn't allow it. My heart couldn't survive it.

The conversation I'd rehearsed died in my throat, unspoken.