Chapter 4 The Ex's Interference

# Chapter 4: The Ex's Interference

The cocktail party had changed things between Kane and me. His public display of possessiveness should have sent me running—instead, it had ignited something primal and thrilling. The following weeks were a dangerous dance of professional achievement and secret passion.

My campaign was gaining traction, earning praise from the board. Kane's support was unwavering, but I knew my work stood on its own merits. Greg had been transferred to another department after his confrontation with Kane—a move that generated more whispers but also sent a clear message about workplace conduct.

"The Richardson effect continues," Lisa commented one morning, dropping a fashion magazine on my desk. "Have you seen this?"

I glanced at the glossy cover featuring a stunning blonde with piercing green eyes. "What am I looking at?"

"Page thirty-six. Annabelle Winters—fashion mogul, socialite, and apparently, Kane Richardson's ex-girlfriend."

My stomach tightened as I flipped to the article. There she was again—ethereal beauty, perfect bone structure, wearing couture like it had been created specifically for her body. The headline read: "Annabelle Winters Brings Her Fashion Empire Home."

"According to this," Lisa continued, clearly enjoying my discomfort, "she's just relocated her headquarters to our city after five years in Milan. And—" she tapped a paragraph halfway down the page, "—she and Richardson had quite the passionate relationship before she left."

I skimmed the article, each word a tiny knife. Annabelle and Kane had been the "power couple of the year" before her career took her overseas. The piece hinted at an amicable split due to distance, with a quote from Annabelle: "Some connections never truly fade. Coming home means reconnecting with what matters."

"She's gorgeous," I said finally, closing the magazine with forced casualness.

Lisa studied me. "You okay?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" I turned to my computer. "His past relationships are none of my business."

"Right," Lisa drawled. "Just like you're none of his business?"

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a message from Kane: *Dinner tonight. My place. 8 PM. Address to follow.*

We'd never met at his home before. Our arrangement had been limited to the club and occasional stolen moments at the office. This felt like another boundary dissolving.

I arrived at his penthouse precisely at eight, nervous energy making my fingers tremble as I knocked. Kane opened the door wearing dark jeans and a simple gray sweater that somehow made him look more devastating than his suits.

"You came," he said, as if he'd been uncertain.

"You asked," I replied simply.

His apartment was exactly what I'd expected—minimalist, expensive, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city lights. The dining table was already set, wine breathing in crystal glasses.

"You cook?" I asked, surprised.

"Among other talents." His smile was slow, suggestive. "Though I'll admit tonight's meal was catered."

Dinner was delicious, the conversation surprisingly easy. Kane asked about my family, my ambitions beyond the company, topics we'd carefully avoided in our arrangement. I found myself opening up, sharing stories about my childhood in a small town, my struggle to be taken seriously in marketing.

"Why did you agree to my proposition that night?" he asked suddenly, his blue eyes intense in the candlelight.

The question caught me off guard. "I... I'm not entirely sure."

"Yes, you are." He reached across the table, his fingers tracing my wrist. "Tell me."

I took a deep breath. "Because when I'm with you, I feel alive in a way I never have before. It's terrifying and exhilarating and probably a terrible mistake, but I can't seem to stop."

Something flashed in his eyes—satisfaction, perhaps, or something deeper. "Not a mistake," he said softly. "Never that."

After dinner, he led me to his living room, music playing softly as he pulled me close for a dance. It felt different tonight—less about desire, more about connection.

"I've never brought anyone here before," he murmured against my hair.

The admission made my heart stutter. "Why me?"

He pulled back slightly, studying my face. "Because you see me, Ava. Not the CEO, not the reputation. Just me."

His kiss was gentle at first, then hungry, his hands tangling in my hair as he backed me toward the bedroom. What followed was different from our previous encounters—slower, more intimate, his eyes holding mine as he moved above me, whispering my name like a prayer.

Afterward, lying in his arms, I felt a dangerous shift inside me. This was no longer just physical attraction or forbidden excitement. I was falling for him—for the man behind the power and control, the man who looked at me like I was everything.

"Stay," he said as I began to stir. "Stay the night."

Another line crossed. I nodded, settling back against his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath my ear.

The morning brought reality crashing back in the form of my ringing phone. I fumbled for it on the unfamiliar nightstand, Kane still sleeping beside me.

"Hello?" I whispered.

"Where are you?" Lisa's voice was urgent. "Emergency meeting in twenty minutes. Everyone's looking for you."

I sat up, fully awake now. "What meeting?"

"Something about the Henderson campaign. Max called it. Kane's not answering his phone either, which is—" She paused suddenly. "Oh my God. You're with him right now, aren't you?"

"I'll be there," I said, avoiding the question. "Stall if you can."

Kane was awake when I ended the call, watching me with hooded eyes. "Problem?"

"Emergency meeting. Max called it." I scrambled for my clothes. "About the Henderson campaign."

Kane frowned, reaching for his own phone. "He didn't notify me."

"Exactly."

We shared a look of understanding. Max was making a move—testing if we were together, creating a situation where our absence would be noted.

"Take my car," Kane said, already typing a message. "I'll come in separately."

I arrived at the office with minutes to spare, slipping into the conference room where the marketing team was already assembled. Lisa raised an eyebrow at my wrinkled blouse but said nothing.

Max entered, his calculating gaze sweeping the room before settling on me. "Glad you could join us, Ms. Mitchell. We were beginning to worry."

"Traffic," I said smoothly. "What's the emergency?"

"Client concerns about the direction of the campaign." He smiled thinly. "Though it seems our CEO isn't as concerned, since he's not here."

"I'm precisely where I need to be," Kane's voice came from the doorway. He looked immaculate in a fresh suit, no trace of our night together visible. "Though I'm curious why this meeting wasn't on my calendar, Max."

The tension in the room was palpable as the two men stared each other down. Max recovered quickly. "A miscommunication. I apologize."

The meeting itself was pointless—the "client concerns" were minor issues that could have been handled over email. It was clearly a pretext, though for what purpose, I wasn't certain.

As we filed out afterward, Max caught my arm. "A word, Ms. Mitchell?"

Kane, already heading toward his office, paused almost imperceptibly before continuing down the hall.

Max closed the conference room door. "You're a promising talent."

"Thank you," I said cautiously.

"Which is why I'm concerned about your... relationship with Richardson."

My face remained neutral even as my heart raced. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"I think you do." His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Office romances rarely end well, especially when there's such a power imbalance."

"I appreciate your concern, but my personal life is my business."

"It becomes company business when it affects operations." He leaned against the table. "The board has strict policies about executives dating subordinates."

The threat was thinly veiled. Before I could respond, the door opened again. A stunning blonde in a white designer dress stood there, green eyes assessing me coolly.

"Excuse me," she said, her voice cultured and confident. "I'm looking for Kane Richardson."

My stomach dropped as I recognized her from the magazine. Annabelle Winters.

Max smiled, suddenly charming. "Ms. Winters! What a pleasant surprise. Kane's office is down the hall. I'd be happy to escort you."

"Thank you." Her gaze lingered on me. "And you are?"

"Ava Mitchell. Marketing department." My voice sounded steadier than I felt.

Something flickered in her eyes—recognition? "Ah. The campaign creator I've been hearing about."

Max looked between us, sensing tension he didn't understand. "You two know each other?"

"No," we said simultaneously.

"But I know of her," Annabelle added, her smile razor-sharp. "Kane mentioned her work."

The possessive way she said his name made my chest tighten. Max escorted her out, leaving me alone with my churning thoughts.

I managed to avoid both Kane and Annabelle for the rest of the day, burying myself in work. But as I was gathering my things to leave, Lisa appeared at my desk, eyes wide.

"Drama in the executive suite," she whispered. "Richardson's ex is making quite the scene."

My stomach dropped. "What kind of scene?"

"The kind where security might get called. She stormed in demanding to speak with him, then refused to leave when Helen said he was in meetings."

I shouldered my bag, determined to escape before getting pulled into whatever was happening. Too late—as I reached the elevators, the doors opened to reveal Annabelle, her perfect composure slightly fractured.

She stepped out, blocking my path. "So you're the one."

I kept my expression neutral. "Excuse me?"

"Don't play innocent. Kane and I had dinner last night. He told me everything."

My blood ran cold. Last night? When he was with me?

"I'm not sure what you think you know—" I began.

"I know you're sleeping with him," she hissed, lowering her voice as an intern passed by. "What I don't understand is why he'd risk his position for someone so... ordinary."

The insult stung, but I refused to show it. "I think this conversation is inappropriate for the workplace."

"You want appropriate? How about I go to the board with what I know about your little club visits?"

My heart stopped. How could she possibly know about Eros?

"That's enough, Annabelle."

Kane's voice cut through the tension. He stood in the hallway, his expression thunderous.

"Kane," she purred, instantly transforming. "I was just introducing myself to your... protégée."

"Leave. Now." His tone left no room for argument.

Something ugly flashed across her perfect features. "This isn't over. She should know what she's getting into with you."

After she stalked away, Kane turned to me. "My office."

"I need to go home," I said stiffly.

"Ava." His voice softened. "Please."

In his office, he closed the door and immediately moved toward me. I stepped back.

"Did you have dinner with her last night?" I demanded.

"Of course not. I was with you all night."

"Then how does she know about the club? About us?"

Kane ran a hand through his hair, a rare gesture of frustration. "She's been following me. Us. After I ended things years ago, she... didn't take it well."

"So she's stalking you?" I couldn't keep the disbelief from my voice.

"She's unpredictable. When she wants something, she doesn't stop until she gets it."

"And what does she want?"

His eyes met mine. "Me. Or more accurately, what I represent—status, power, a return to our former position as the 'it' couple."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because she'll try to come between us. She'll say things, create doubt." He moved closer, cupping my face in his hands. "Don't let her."

I wanted to believe him, but doubt had already taken root. "This is getting complicated, Kane."

"It was always complicated." His thumb traced my lower lip. "But worth it. You're worth it."

As his mouth found mine, I wanted desperately to lose myself in him again. But Annabelle's words echoed in my mind, along with Max's thinly veiled threats. Our carefully compartmentalized worlds were colliding, and I wasn't sure we would survive the impact.