Khloe's POV
Today was going to be a good day.
At least, that's what I told myself before I even opened my eyes.
"No distractions," I whispered into the dim light filtering through my curtains. "No Mr. Xavier, no Travis. Just work. Focus."
The words sounded firm, but the sigh that slipped from my chest was anything but. It started soft, then grew into a groan as I forced myself out of bed, feet dragging across the cold floor. I shuffled to the bathroom, where the hiss of the shower finally jolted me awake.
Water streamed down my skin in rivulets, carrying yesterday's exhaustion with it. I leaned my forehead against the cool tile, closing my eyes. I need a reset. A different kind of day. A better kind of me.
And if today was going to be different, then I had to dress like it.
I toweled off and padded barefoot to my closet, scanning the rows of clothes I'd worn too many times before. Black skirts, white blouses, my safe zone. Predictable. Professional. But my eyes snagged on something I hadn't touched in months: a pink dress. Simple, soft, but cut in a way that hugged my curves just enough to remind me I was still a woman beneath the assistant mask.
My hand hovered, then pulled it down.
"Ugh, what am I doing?" I muttered under my breath as I slipped it over my head. The fabric fell against me like it belonged there, the mirror confirming what my thoughts refused to deny. "Am I… planning to seduce my boss?"
Heat rose in my cheeks at the ridiculous thought. "Jesus. What am I even saying? This man is in my head."
I shook the thought away, smoothing the dress down over my hips, pretending I hadn't just considered Xavier Rush in the same breath as seduction. Bra and underwear adjusted, hair brushed into something presentable, I took a deep breath and stepped out of my room.
The smell of pancakes greeted me before my mother's smile did.
"Good morning, Mom," I said, slipping into the kitchen with the casual ease of routine.
She turned, spatula in hand, her face lighting with the kind of warmth only she could give. "Morning, love. Hope you slept well?"
"I did," I lied smoothly, though the tossing and turning of last night still clung to the edges of my mind.
I reached for a plate, piling on two pancakes, drowning them in syrup. One bite, then another, the sweetness grounding me in ways Xavier's piercing gaze or Travis's easy charm never could. A glass of orange juice later, I leaned down to press a quick kiss to Mom's cheek.
"Bye, Mom."
"Bye, love," she answered, her eyes soft, knowing. Always knowing.
Outside, Jayden was already waiting. My ever-punctual driver leaned against the car with that professional composure that made him reliable but impossible to read.
"Good morning, Mr. Jayden," I greeted as I slid into the back seat.
"Good morning, Miss Khloe." He adjusted the rearview mirror, glancing at me once before starting the engine. "We'll be going to the site today."
"Site?" My brows pulled together. I hadn't received any emails, no calendar alerts. Nothing.
"Yes," he continued, voice steady, matter-of-fact. "Mr. Xavier asked me to take you to one of the sites where he's meeting with a client."
"Oh." The word slipped out smaller than I intended. I folded my hands in my lap, staring out the window as the city blurred by.
So, this was it. Another unscheduled moment in Xavier's orbit. Another test for my heart's flimsy resolve. I told myself I'd left Travis's smile behind yesterday, but the memory of his easy charm still haunted me in the dark. And now—back to Xavier.
Jayden drove in silence, the low hum of the car filling the space between my thoughts. By the time we pulled up to the site, my pulse was uneven, anticipation and nerves tangling like thread.
The building loomed ahead—sleek lines, glass catching the morning sun, an unfinished elegance that hinted at what it would soon become. A boutique building, I realized as I stepped out, the sharp scent of fresh paint mixing with dust and concrete.
And then I saw him.
Of course I did. How could anyone miss Xavier Rush? Even standing casually, he was a center of gravity, the kind of man who drew attention without effort. His presence was magnetic, pulling every eye in his direction.
Our gazes collided across the space. Just for a moment. Just long enough for something tight and unspoken to flare between us. My breath caught, but before I could take a step toward him, I froze.
He wasn't alone.
A woman stood beside him. Not just any woman—elegant, polished, carrying herself with the kind of confidence that turned heads.
Something in me twisted.
I forced my feet to move, walking toward them with a polite smile plastered on my face, my shield in place.
"Good morning, sir," I said, voice steady, betraying none of the storm inside.
His eyes flicked to mine, unreadable as always. "Good morning, Khloe."
The sound of my name in his voice was enough to make my chest ache. But he didn't linger. He shifted, gesturing toward the woman.
"Khloe, this is Miss Flora," he said, pausing—hesitating, almost—as if the word friend caught on his tongue. "My… friend. She owns this building we're working on."
I turned to Flora with another polite smile, extending my hand. "Nice to meet you."
Her grip was firm, warm, her eyes bright. "Nice meeting you," she replied with a joy that made it feel like she'd been waiting for this introduction.
"And this," Xavier continued, his voice a shade too controlled, "is Khloe. My assistant. First assistant."
First. Why did that word matter? Why did it feel like a claim, a subtle correction to something Flora might have assumed?
I smiled again, nodding.
"Flora came from Austria," Xavier added, his tone deliberately casual. "So we'll be treating her right."
Austria. Flora.
The name rang bells in my mind—soft at first, then louder, overlapping, until memory clicked into place. Dresses.
Of course.
I glanced between them, trying to piece it all together, my mind racing. The way he hesitated when introducing her. The flicker in his eyes when mine had met his. The fact that it bothered me at all.
I tucked it all away beneath another professional smile, even as my heart whispered what I refused to admit out loud:
I didn't like the way she stood next to him.
Not one bit.