Chapter 236
Summer’s POV
The January air bit at my cheeks as I hurried into Stark Tower, clutching the Manhattan West Side project reports to my chest. Leg had been obsessing over these revisions for days, and I’d stayed up until 2 AM finalizing them.
“Hold it, please!” I called, spotting the elevator doors beginning to close. A hand shot out to stop them, and I slipped inside with a grateful smile that quickly morphed into surprise.
“Monica?” I asked, taking in her disheveled appearance, Monica was always the picture of professional perfection, but today, she looked like she’d been through a hurricane. Her usually pristine bun was coming undone, dark circles shadowed her eyes, and she was juggling what looked like three different tablets along with a stack of binders.
“Oh, hi!” She attempted a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Going to Mr. Stark’s office?”
“Yeah, project reports,” I replied, holding up the folder. “Are you okay? You look…”
“Like total shit?” Monica finished with a bitter laugh. “Trust me, I know.”
The elevator dinged for her floor before I could respond. She adjusted her grip on the precarious tower of materials.
“Good luck up there,” she said as she stepped out. “Mr. Stark’s in one of his moods today.”
I frowned, concerned. “Wait, Monica–what’s going on?”
Monica hesitated, glancing around the empty hallway. “Annual party prep,” she admitted, lowering her voice. “Miss Sinclair insisted on taking charge but she’s…” She pressed her lips together. “Let’s just say I’m handling most of it myself.”
“That sounds rough,” I said sympathetically.
“It’s fine,” Monica replied, her professional mask slipping back into place. “Mr. Stark’s inside. Just proceed with caution.”
“Thanks for the warning,” I said as she hurried away.
The executive floor was unusually quiet as I stepped off the elevator. James Wilson nodded to me from his desk, his expression giving away nothing as usual.
“He’s expecting you,” was all he said, gesturing toward Brandon’s office door.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked and entered without waiting for a response. Brandon was exactly where I expected him be behind his massive desk, staring at his computer screen with the intensity of someone contemplating murder. His fingers were pressed against his temples, and even from across the room, I could see the tension in his shoulders.
“Hey,” I said softly, closing the door behind me.
Brandon didn’t look up, but his posture shifted slightly at the sound of my voice.
“I have the revised reports,” I continued, crossing the room to place the folder on his desk. Instead of returning to the chair opposite him, I circled around to stand behind him, my hands finding his shoulders.
“You’re tense,” I murmured, my fingers digging into the knots I found there. “Monica mentioned you were in a mood.”
Brandon let out a short, humorless laugh. “Did she?”
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Chapter 236
“Mmm,” I confirmed, working at a particularly stubborn knot. She also looks like she hasn’t slept in days. Annual party problems?
Brandon reached for the folder F’d brought, flipping it open with one hand while the other caught mine, tugging me around to face
him.
“Let’s talk about your report first,” he said, his eyes scanning the pages. “This is much better than the last draft.”
I felt a swell of pride. “Jean–Pierre’s feedback was really helpful. We completely overhauled the environmental impact section.”
“I can see that,” Brandon nodded, turning to a specific page. “These calculations are far more precise. Jean–Pierre seems to be taking a special interest in you.“.
“Really?” I asked, surprised. “I thought Leo was his protégé.”
“Leo’s already established, Brandon replied, closing the folder. “He doesn’t need Jean–Pierre’s mentorship anymore. You, on the other hand…” He squeezed my hand. “Jean–Pierre clearly sees your potential. His approach is different from Leo’s–more innovative. You should take advantage of the opportunity.”
“I will,” I promised. His fingers were still playing with mine, absently tracing patterns across my palm. It was something he did when his mind was occupied with troubling thoughts.
“Anyway, what’s going on with you? Monica said you were in a bad mood. Is it work?”
Brandon’s expression shuttered. “It’s nothing significant.”
“It’s clearly something,” I pressed. “You can tell me, you know.”
He sighed, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of my hand. “Just the usual corporate politics. Nothing worth discussing.”
I decided to change tactics. “So about this annual party… are you really leaving all the planning to Monica and Elle? That seems like asking for trouble.”
Brandon’s eyebrow arched. “What makes you say that?”
“Just office gossip, I shrugged. “People are saying you’re not taking the party seriously this year. Apparently Elle isn’t actually doing anything, and Monica’s drowning in work.”
“And what would you suggest?” he asked, his tone carefully neutral.
I backpedaled quickly. “Don’t misunderstand me. Whether you send Elle away or keep her around doesn’t matter to me at all. She can’t touch what we have. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you.
Something in Brandon’s expression softened. “You’re quite considerate, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am,” I replied with a smile. “It’s in my best interest to keep you happy.”
I glanced at my watch and stood up. “I really need to get back downstairs. I’ll meet you in the parking garage after work? Aunt Meave mentioned she’s craving spicy fish head stew, so we need to pick up some fresh fish on the way home.”
“Uncle Gavin can’t be bothered to buy it himself?” Brandon asked, his tone dry.
“He’s keeping Aunt Meave company, I explained. “Her color has been much better lately, don’t you think?”
Brandon nodded, rising to his feet. “I’ve noticed.”
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I reached up, my fingers brushing his jaw before leaning in to kiss him lightly. “Try not to terrorize too many people today, okay? I’ll see you tonight.”
Brandon’s POV
A few minutes after Summer left, the intercom buzzed.
“Mr. Stark, Monica’s voice came through, may I speak with you about the annual party?”
“Come in,” I replied, returning to my desk.
Monica entered, looking considerably more disheveled than usual. After discussing several party details, she shifted uncomfortably.
“There’s something else, sir,” she said hesitantly. “Miss Sinclair saw Summer–Miss Taylor–leaving your office earlier. She seemed… upset.”
“How upset?” I asked, my voice deliberately neutral.
“Very,” Monica replied. “She asked me to investigate Miss Taylor. She wants to find something she can use to remove her from Stark Group.”
I kept my expression carefully blank. “And what did you tell her?”
“That I would try,” Monica admitted. She insisted we’re best friends now and invited me to dinner at that new French restaurant on
Fifth Avenue,”
“I see.” I studied Monica’s face for a moment. “Go ahead with the investigation.”
Monica’s eyes widened. ‘Sir?”
‘James will provide you with information in a few days. Give it to Elle when she asks.”
Monica looked confused but nodded. “Yes, Mr. Stark.”
“Is there anything else about the annual party?” I asked, redirecting the conversation.
“Just the entertainment, sir. Stark Entertainment hasn’t confirmed which artists will perform.”
‘Let James handle it,” I decided. “You have enough on your plate.”
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