The billionaire’s substitute

Chapter four- Possession

Katrina POV

The morning sunlight spilled through the office windows, painting the walls in soft gold. But the brightness did nothing to ease the heaviness pressing against my chest. Sleep had been restless, haunted by the image of Jackson slumped in his study chair, clutching that mysterious photograph like it was the only thing tethering him to this world.

Now, standing at my desk with another mountain of files waiting for me, I forced myself to focus. I couldn’t afford to dwell on last night. Jackson would only see my distraction as another flaw.

“Need a hand?”

Jason’s voice broke through the silence, warm and steady. He leaned against the edge of my desk, sleeves rolled up, his easy smile offering a comfort I hadn’t realized I was desperate for.

“I—uh—no, it’s fine,” I murmured, eyes darting to the schedule grid. “Just another day of drowning in deadlines.”

Jason’s chuckle was soft, like he wanted to lighten the tension. “Well, lucky for you, I’m a pretty good swimmer. Hand me half of that.”

Before I could protest, he grabbed a stack of papers, flipping through them with practiced ease. I blinked at him, grateful for myself. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he cut in gently. “You take everything on yourself, Katrina. But you don’t have to fight this alone.”

The words slid into the cracks of my armor. My lips trembled into the faintest smile. “Thank you.”

We worked in silence for a while, the hum of printers and phones filling the space. Jason was quick, efficient, but more than that, he carried an ease about him that made the work feel less suffocating. When noon rolled around, he nudged my shoulder.

“Lunch. My treat.”

I hesitated, glancing toward Jackson’s office door, but it remained shut. “I… guess I could use a break.”

Jason grinned, triumph in his eyes. “That’s the spirit.”

We walked to the café across the street, a cozy corner spot that smelled of roasted coffee beans and fresh bread. Jason ordered for both of us, remembering my favorite sandwich without asking. The simple act made my chest ache in the best way.

“So,” Jason began, once we sat down. “Tell me something—anything—that makes you happy. And work is not an acceptable answer.”

I laughed softly, picking at my sandwich. “Happy? That’s… a rare word in my vocabulary these days.”

“Then all the more reason to think,” he urged, eyes sparkling with encouragement.

I thought for a moment, surprised at the memory that surfaced. “Music. When I was younger, I used to sing. It felt like… freedom.”

Jason leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Sing something for me then.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Here? Now? Absolutely not.”

His laugh was easy, warm. “Alright, fair. But one day, I’m holding you to it.”

We shared a quiet moment, laughter lingering between us. For once, I felt… normal.

And then the air shifted.

The café door opened, and in walked Jackson.

The world seemed to pause as his emerald gaze zeroed in on us, sharp and unrelenting. His tailored suit commanded the room, his presence magnetic, suffocating. My heart lurched into my throat.

Jason straightened, his smile faltering. I froze, the sandwich in my hands suddenly tasteless.

Jackson didn’t hesitate—he strode toward our table with the confidence of a man who owned the ground he walked on. My pulse thundered as he slid into the seat beside me, uninvited.

“Katrina,” he said smoothly, ignoring Jason entirely. “Why didn’t you inform me you’d be stepping out?”

“I—” My voice caught, my mind scrambling. “It’s just lunch.”

“Lunch?” His tone was deceptively calm, but his eyes burned. “With him?”

Jason bristled, leaning forward. “We were just taking a break, Jackson. Nothing inappropriate about that.”

Jackson’s lips curved into a cold, mocking smile. “And yet somehow, it feels inappropriate.”

The tension was suffocating, pulling the air from the room. My fingers clenched around the edge of the table, caught between two storms.

“Jackson, please,” I whispered, my cheeks flaming. “You’re overreacting.”

His gaze flicked to me then, sharp but unreadable. “Am I?”

Jason’s hand brushed mine under the table, subtle but protective. The gesture made my heart stutter—and it did not go unnoticed. Jackson’s jaw tightened, his posture stiffening.

“Funny,” Jackson drawled, eyes still locked on Jason. “I don’t recall giving permission for my staff to play house during business hours.”

“Enough.” Jason’s voice was low but firm. “She doesn’t need your permission to eat. Or to breathe.”

I swallowed hard, caught in the middle, shame and confusion swirling like a storm.

Jackson leaned back, his expression cool, but his hand brushed against my chair deliberately—possessive, claiming. The silent message was clear: She’s mine.

The weight of it pressed against me, leaving me dizzy.

Jason’s eyes softened as they met mine like he was passing a quiet message.

My throat tightened. The kindness in his eyes sliced through me, raw and unfiltered. But before I could respond, Jackson’s voice cut like ice.

“She works for me, Stuart. And she’ll remember that.”

The table went still, the space charged with unspoken tension. Jason clenched his fists, but he didn’t fire back this time. Instead, he turned his attention back to me, his gaze lingering with quiet determination.

When Jackson finally rose to leave, he bent slightly, his lips grazing my ear. “Lunch is over. You’ll join me back at the office. Now.” His tone was low, laced with authority that sent a shiver down my spine.

And then he was gone.

Jason exhaled slowly, his hand brushing mine again. “You don’t have to let him control you, Katrina. You’re not his girlfriend. You’re his assistant.”

I looked down at my trembling hands, words caught in my throat. Torn. Confused. The man who humiliated me in front of everyone was also the man who haunted my nights, whose rare glimpses of vulnerability kept me from hating him entirely.

And then there was Jason—kind, steady, safe. The man who saw me as more than a mistake, more than an employee.

As we left the café, my heart pounded with the weight of two truths: one man broke me, the other tried to heal me. But fate, cruel and complicated, had bound me to both.

I didn’t know which path to choose—or if I’d even be allowed to choose at all.

Later that night, exhaustion tugged at my body, but sleep refused to come. Just as I drifted off, my phone buzzed violently on the nightstand.

I groggily answered, only to freeze at the voice on the other end. My heart pounded as the words sank in. My throat went dry, and I gripped the sheets like a lifeline. “What did you just say?” I whispered, trembling.

The reply was firm, undeniable. My breath hitched, a cold shiver crawling down my spine. Slowly, shakily, I spoke into the receiver, barely believing it myself. “Karina… Karina is awake.”