Chapter 10 - The Master of Oak Haven
At 1:00 p.m., the heavy oak door at the end of the hallway opened.
The familiar, subtle hush fell over the building as Damian Rossy walked inside.
He wore a double-breasted midnight-black suit with a charcoal silk tie. He walked with his usual slow, deliberate grace, his dark eyes scanning the hallway as he approached his private office.
As he passed Tessa’s door, he stopped.
The door was wide open.
Tessa was sitting at her desk, reviewing a stack of linen invoices. She looked up immediately as his shadow fell across the threshold.
Their eyes met in the bright, warm light of her office.
Damian did not speak. He stood in the doorway, his hands resting casually inside his trouser pockets, examining her face with that same intense, analytical focus he brought to everything he owned.
He saw her clear, unblemished skin. He saw the bare, confident line of her throat. He saw the complete absence of fear in her wide blue-gray eyes.
“The quarterly reports are finished, Mr. Rossy,” Tessa said, her voice steady and resonant in the quiet hallway. “Liquor costs are down two percent. I renegotiated the vermouth contract with a new distributor yesterday morning.”
Damian looked at her for three seconds. Then, slowly, the hard, unyielding lines of his face relaxed.
He bowed his head once—a gesture of absolute, equal respect.
“Excellent work, Miss Hartley,” Damian said softly.
He turned and walked toward his office, his heavy leather shoes clicking rhythmically against the hardwood floor.
Tessa watched him go, then turned back to her computer screen.
May you like
Outside, the winter sun shone brightly over the stone towers of the Financial District, reflecting off the cold blue waters of the river.
Tessa took a deep, clean breath, picked up her pen, and went back to work. She was no longer just the woman who kept the books. She was the woman who owned her own story—and no one in this city would ever make her flinch again.
