She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 150

(Mason)

The Stein M&A offices are quiet.

Everyone else has gone home for the day.

I stand in the center of my office and look at the single cardboard box on my desk.

I’m not moving out.

I’m just moving across town for a few months.

But walking away from the firm I built, even temporarily, feels strange.

I run my hand along the back of my leather chair.

It’s the right play.

Stepping in to stabilize Warren Global puts my name in a different stratosphere.

When I come back here, I’ll be the man who bailed out Elias Warren. The firm will print money.

I leave my office and stroll down the corridor slowly.

It’s ridiculous to be feeling this sentimental about a place I’ll be coming back to soon enough.

There’s nobody here to see me being ridiculous though, so I indulge myself.

Gloria has the reigns. Nathanial Morton is arriving tomorrow to help her hold them.

It’s a solid structure.

I don’t need to worry about my house burning down while I’m putting out fires in someone else’s.

My real problem is the fire I started myself.

I handed Chloe a loaded gun at that gala and pointed her directly at a man who was already bleeding out.

It was a dirty play.

I’m not a dirty player by nature, and the guilt has been sitting like a stone in my stomach since Saturday night.

But if I’m being honest with myself, I’d do it all again.

I will hand a judge every screenshot, every outburst, and every piece of medical record tampering I can find to make sure Natasha wins the custody fight.

If it costs me a few nights of sleep, fine.

I turn away from the window and walk into Natasha’s empty office.

Her desk is pristine. Her monitors are off. The room smells strange though.

It’s impossible to miss the source of the odor.

An absolutely massive floral arrangement is taking up a quarter of her office.

Orchids and lilies, mostly.

The blooms are starting to wilt around the edges, turning brown and curling inward. The water in the clear glass base is going cloudy.

I walk over to the monstrosity.

There’s a thick cream card sitting on the edge of her desk.

It had been torn into several jagged pieces, but left in a messy pile next to her keyboard.

I don’t make a habit of snooping but it feels like this is a puzzle I should solve.

My brain puts the sentences together before I consciously decide to read them.

Natasha, Tuesday night was unforgettable. I can’t wait to wake up with you again. Already Yours, Julian.

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