"Damn, that ass," Oliver muttered, eyes glued to Isabella as the door eased shut behind her. Then he turned toward Jacob with a grin that belonged in a damn sewer. "I bet you know how it feels," he said, voice slick with something repulsive. Jacob stiffened, the smile draining from his face.
"The question is," Oliver continued, leaning in slightly, "are you willing to share?" Jacob blinked. "Excuse me?" Oliver chuckled, completely oblivious to the shift in Jacob's posture—the tension in his shoulders, the twitch in his jaw. "I'm so glad your brother couldn't make it," Oliver went on, undeterred. "I've been craving that sexy little assistant of his for a while now. But he's always hovering—too protective, too damn uptight for a man-to-man conversation. But you… I can talk to you. I like you."
Jacob didn't respond. His eyes darkened. "I mean, your company wants to work with mine, yeah? Well... I want a weekend with that ass. Forty-eight hours. That's not asking much, right?" The room went deathly silent for a beat.
Then Jacob moved. With no warning, he lunged across the table, grabbing Oliver by the collar and yanking him forward. The old bastard barely had time to gasp before Jacob's fist slammed into his face—once, twice, three times in rapid succession. Flesh thudded against bone. Blood splattered across Oliver's collar, and still Jacob didn't say a word. His silence was louder than any threat. His rage, volcanic.
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*Isabella's POV*
Balancing the tea tray, I made my way back to the Diamond meeting room—only to find it completely empty. Weird. Maybe they moved back to Jacob's office? I turned around, a little confused but not overly concerned. These meetings bounced around all the time. But when I reached the office, I stopped dead in my tracks. A man was casually seated at my desk like he owned the damn thing.
"Hello there," he greeted, flashing a smile that should be illegal. I swear my jaw actually dropped. He looked like he'd just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine—or out of a rock concert. Rich brown hair, unruly in a way that screamed effortless. Dreamy, dangerous eyes. Ripped arms peeking out from under rolled-up sleeves, tattoos winding up one forearm like inked temptation.
"I'm Owen," he said smoothly, standing to his full, very tall height. "I assume you're the famous Ms. Williams. It's a pleasure." Wait—Owen? And then it hit me. The Phoenix file. This was Owen Pheonix.—Pheonix's only heir. His son. I remembered his photo from the dossier, but damn… the pictures hadn't even come close. They'd done him a disservice. The man was gorgeous in person.
"Can you help me with something?" he asked, that same cocky glint in his eyes. "Anything," I said—too quickly, too enthusiastically. I winced internally. Girl, really? He smiled wider. "My father's waiting for me in the car, but turns out he forgot his bag in here somewhere. Can you help me retrieve it?" I nodded, clearing my throat and pulling myself together. "I think it's in Mr. Lancaster's office. Follow me."
He trailed behind as I led the way. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time—lazy, confident, hot as hell. God, get a grip, Isabella. I opened the office door, stepping inside. Owen scanned the room and smirked before heading toward Jacob's desk. His eyes flicked over everything like he already owned the place.
"Found it," he said, lifting the bag from behind the desk with one hand. "Now, Ms. Williams," he added, slinging the strap over his shoulder, "would you mind showing me to the parking lot? I can't get lost in this huge building again." I laughed—dammit, actually giggled—and nodded. "Of course. Follow me. Again."
He grinned and fell into step beside me. As we stepped outside, he pointed across the lot. "Well, there's my car." A sleek, glossy black sports car that probably cost more than my annual salary. "Thank you so much, Ms. Williams," he said as he turned to me, his smile softer now. "Please," I said, brushing hair behind my ear, "call me Isabella." "Thank you, Isabella," he repeated, his voice dipping just enough to send a ripple down my spine. "I'll see you around."
He waved casually before heading for his car. I stood there for a second longer than I should've, watching the way he moved—effortless swagger, confident as hell. The second the engine purred to life, I spun around and headed back inside. Fuck. I sighed under my breath. I just need to get laid.
I walked back into the building, the air-conditioned silence a stark contrast to the chaos that had just been brewing inside me. My heels clicked down the hallway as I made a beeline for the break room, hoping to shake off whatever the hell that encounter with Owen had stirred up in me.
Inside, I found Cole already leaning against the counter. "Cole," I exhaled, thankful. "Thank God you're here. You're basically the office oracle of gossip. Tell me you've seen Jacob today." He raised a perfectly sculpted brow, already interested. "As a matter of fact," he said, pausing for dramatic effect, "I did. About half an hour ago. He stomped through the lobby like a man on a goddamn mission, eyes wild—like, full-on maniacal serial killer mode. Then he started asking everyone if they had a cigarette."
My mouth dropped open. "A cigarette? Jacob?" Cole nodded with his whole body, wide-eyed. "Yup. Begged for one like his life fucking depended on it. Someone handed him one, and boom—he vanished outside and hasn't come back since." "I didn't even know he smoked," I muttered, now feeling something tight coil in my stomach. Nerves, mostly. But also… worry.
"Beats me," Cole said with a shrug, sipping his iced whatever. Great. Just fucking great. "Well," I sighed, rubbing the bridge of my nose, "I guess I'll wait for him." I left the break room, half-wishing Cole had offered more than just chaos-laced commentary. Back at my desk, I tried to focus—on emails, on documents, on anything—but my mind kept spinning in circles.
Where the hell was Jacob? And what the fuck had happened after I left that meeting? An hour passed. Maybe more. I was starting to convince myself that I was overthinking it when my phone rang, sharp and sudden on the desk. I looked down at the screen. Jacob.