Dwayne Knight had built his morning on precision. Every email answered, every figure double-checked, every meeting timed to the second. Discipline was what kept him ahead of the game, what shielded him from the chaos other men drowned in.
But today, precision failed him.
Because every time he looked up from his screen, his eyes betrayed him—searching for her.
Courtney Taylor.
She sat just outside his office, posture perfect, hair swept back into a neat twist, her fingers flying across her keyboard as she organized his schedule. Efficient, unflappable, irritatingly competent.
And yet, when she bit her lip in concentration or brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, something inside him pulled taut.
Dwayne cursed under his breath and forced his gaze back to the quarterly projections. Numbers never lied. People did. He couldn't afford to get tangled in… whatever this was.
A sharp knock on his doorframe pulled him from his thoughts.
"Dwayne," came the familiar, booming voice.
Dwayne's stomach tightened. "Uncle Harold."
Harold Knight strolled into the office like he owned it—because in many ways, he did. His tailored navy suit was a touch too flashy, his smile a touch too wide, his eyes far too sharp for comfort. Where Dwayne carried his authority with cool restraint, Harold wore his like a weapon, brandished for all to see.
"I didn't know you were in Chicago," Dwayne said carefully, rising to shake his hand.
"I like to keep the young blood on their toes," Harold replied smoothly. "Besides, Empire Brands is due for a little… tune-up."
Dwayne suppressed a sigh. Whenever Harold spoke of "tune-ups," it meant trouble.
As Harold settled himself comfortably in the leather chair opposite the desk, his gaze drifted—inevitably—toward the glass wall and the figure beyond it.
"Well, well," Harold murmured, his smile sharpening. "Who is that?"
Dwayne's jaw tightened. "My assistant."
"Assistant?" Harold's laugh was soft but cutting. "That's no ordinary assistant. Look at her. Polished, professional, bright eyes. That's a shark hiding in pearls if I've ever seen one."
Dwayne's voice was clipped. "She handles my schedule. That's all."
"Mm." Harold steepled his fingers, studying Courtney like she was a piece on a chessboard. "She's wasted in that chair."
"She's exactly where she needs to be."
The firmness in Dwayne's tone surprised even him.
Harold's gaze flicked back to him, amused. "You sound defensive, nephew. Is there something I should know?"
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with."
Harold chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax. I'm not here to pry into your… extracurricular interests. But I am here to remind you of one thing: attachments make men sloppy."
Dwayne stiffened. "Courtney Taylor is not an attachment. She's an employee."
"Good," Harold said, rising to his feet. He straightened his cufflinks with deliberate care. "Because I'd hate to see you distracted at a time like this. Empire Brands has wolves circling, and the last thing we need is our heir apparent tangled up in some… office entanglement."
He let the words linger in the air, then patted Dwayne's shoulder with mock affection before striding toward the door.
Just before he stepped out, Harold paused. His gaze cut to Courtney again. She glanced up at that exact moment, offering him a polite, professional smile.
Harold returned it with practiced warmth. "Good morning, Miss…?"
"Taylor," Courtney said brightly. "Courtney Taylor."
"Courtney," Harold repeated smoothly, as though savoring the name. "Lovely to meet you. I must say, you bring a certain… brightness to this floor. I imagine my nephew is very fortunate to have you."
Courtney flushed faintly, glancing toward Dwayne. "Thank you, sir. I do my best."
Harold's smile deepened, all charm and hidden daggers. "I'll be seeing more of you, I hope."
With that, he was gone.
📍 Later That Afternoon
The moment Harold's footsteps faded, Dwayne closed his office door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.
He knew that tone. He knew that look. Harold's words had never been compliments—they were probes, carefully placed to test weaknesses.
And Harold had found one.
Courtney.
Dwayne rubbed his temples, frustration clawing at him. This was exactly why he couldn't let himself be drawn in by her. The second anyone noticed, she'd become a target. Harold didn't believe in harmless things. If Harold suspected Courtney was more than an assistant, he'd twist it until it served his own ends.
The thought of Courtney caught in Harold's games made Dwayne's chest tighten.
Better to cut the thread now, before it wound too tightly around them both.
📍 Courtney's POV – End of Day
Courtney closed her laptop and stretched, glancing toward Dwayne's office. He hadn't spoken to her since Harold's visit, not even to bark an order. She wasn't sure if that was a blessing or an omen.
Still, Harold Knight had been… interesting. He was charming in a way that put her on edge, the kind of man whose compliments felt like veiled tests.
And yet, there'd been something unsettling about the way Dwayne reacted to him. Defensive. Guarded. Almost… protective.
She shook her head, packing up her bag. Whatever was happening between uncle and nephew, she needed to stay focused. She had enough battles to fight without being dragged into Knight family politics.
But as she rode the elevator down to the lobby, she couldn't shake the feeling that she already was.