Chapter 11
1153 Words
Raina’s POV
The drive to Grant Global felt suffocating.
Not because of traffic.
Not because of the weather.
Because Harrison Grant was sitting beside me like nothing had happened.
One hand resting lazily against the steering wheel. The other tapping lightly against the console in that calm, measured rhythm he always fell into when he was thinking too much and saying too little.
The city blurred outside the tinted windows.
Glass towers.
Morning crowds.
Crosswalk signals flickering red and green.
Normal life.
Meanwhile, the silence inside the car stretched so tightly it felt capable of snapping.
I stared ahead.
Refused to look at him.
Refused to acknowledge the faint scent of cedarwood wrapping around the cabin.
Refused to acknowledge how familiar this used to feel.
Once upon a time, mornings like this had been my favorite thing in the world.
Back then, I used to sit in this exact seat trying not to smile too hard whenever he drove me to work personally.
Pathetic.
I had really been happy over crumbs.
“You’re quiet,” Harrison finally said.
I almost laughed.
Quiet?
What exactly did he expect from me?
Poetry?
A thank-you speech?
I kept my gaze fixed on the road ahead.
“You dragged me out of my own house at seven in the morning because you didn’t like my dress. What kind of conversation are you hoping for?”
His fingers stilled briefly against the steering wheel.
Then resumed tapping.
“You were wearing something too revealing.”
“There were exactly three centimeters of collarbone visible, Harrison. Should I alert the media?”
His jaw tightened.
I noticed.
Of course I noticed.
The man barely expressed emotions, so every tiny reaction stood out like cracks in marble.
“You’ve never dressed like that for work before.”
“And?”
“And people stare.”
There it was.
Simple.
Direct.
Possessive.
I turned slowly, finally looking at him fully.
Sharp jawline.
Perfect profile.
Cold restraint stitched into every inch of him.
“You don’t get to care anymore.”
The words landed quietly.
But I felt them hit him.
A flicker.
Barely there.
Then gone.
The rest of the drive passed in silence.
Heavy.
Unfinished.
When the car finally rolled into the underground executive parking lot, I reached for the door immediately.
Harrison spoke before I could open it.
“Tonight,” he said calmly, “Grandma’s birthday dinner starts at seven.”
“I know.”
“You’re coming with me.”
I looked at him blankly.
“No. I’m attending because of Grandma. Not because of you.”
Something dark flickered behind his eyes.
Dangerous.
Controlled.
“You think there’s a difference?”
“Yes.”
I opened the door.
Stepped out.
And walked away before he could answer.
The moment I entered the executive floor, the atmosphere shifted.
People noticed.
Of course they did.
The CEO arriving with his wife after weeks of distance?
Corporate gossip would feast on that for months.
Chris nearly inhaled her chewing gum when she saw me.
“…You came with Mr. Grant?”
I handed her a file calmly.
“Good morning to you too.”
Her eyes widened further.
“Oh my God. You’re glowing.”
“I’m sleep-deprived.”
“No,” she whispered dramatically, leaning closer. “This is revenge-face. Women only look this good when they’re emotionally done.”
A laugh almost escaped me.
Almost.
Before I could answer, the elevator doors opened again.
And Sophie stepped out.
The entire floor seemed to pause.
She looked pale today.
Soft cream blouse.
Loose skirt.
Minimal makeup.
Fragile enough to trigger sympathy on instinct alone.
Then her eyes landed on me.
And stopped.
Specifically…
On the fact that Harrison’s suit jacket was draped over my arm.
I had forgotten I was carrying it.
Because when we arrived downstairs, an executive director had approached Harrison with coffee in one hand and documents in the other, and Harrison had casually handed me his jacket while reviewing reports.
Natural.
Automatic.
Like muscle memory.
Sophie noticed it too.
I saw the exact second her smile stiffened.
“Miss West,” she greeted softly.
Professional.
Gentle.
Perfect.
“Miss Bennett.”
Her gaze flickered briefly toward the parking area behind me.
Like she expected Harrison to appear.
Like she wanted confirmation.
Right on cue…
He stepped out of the elevator.
Tall.
Composed.
Terrifyingly handsome in that unfair, infuriating way he carried himself.
The moment Sophie saw him, her expression softened instantly.
“Harrison.”
Not Mr. Grant.
Not CEO.
Harrison.
Intimate.
Familiar.
The entire floor definitely noticed that too.
His eyes moved to her.
Then immediately to me.
Then to the jacket still hanging over my arm.
Something unreadable crossed his expression.
“Your meeting starts in ten minutes,” I said flatly, handing the jacket back.
Our fingers brushed briefly.
Warm.
Steady.
Electric in the worst possible way.
I pulled away first.
Sophie watched the interaction carefully.
Too carefully.
Then she smiled again.
“I made tea this morning,” she said softly to Harrison. “You forgot to take it before leaving.”
Her hand lifted slightly.
A thermos.
Cute.
Domestic.
Intentional.
The entire floor practically leaned in spiritually.
I should’ve been angry.
Jealous.
Humiliated.
Instead…
I just felt tired.
Harrison glanced at the thermos.
Then at her.
“You came all the way here for that?”
“I was worried about your stomach after drinking.”
Chris made a choking sound behind me that suspiciously sounded like suppressed gossip.
I ignored it.
Completely.
Until Harrison spoke again.
“Next time, let the assistant bring it.”
Silence.
Tiny.
Sharp.
Sophie blinked once.
The smile on her lips faltered almost invisibly.
Not because of what he said.
But because of how he said it.
Distant.
Polite.
Corporate.
Like he was suddenly remembering people were watching.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
My eyes narrowed slightly.
For the first time in weeks…
Something felt off.
Not with me.
With him.
Before I could think deeper about it, the elevator chimed again.
And Theo walked out.
Perfect timing.
As always.
His gaze swept across the scene once before landing directly on me.
Then slowly…
He smirked.
“Well,” he drawled lazily, “this floor smells like unresolved emotional trauma and expensive perfume.”
Chris nearly died trying not to laugh.
Harrison looked unimpressed.
Theo shoved his hands into his pockets casually before glancing between Sophie and me.
Then finally at Harrison.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “for a man about to get divorced, you’re looking unusually territorial this morning.”
The air froze.
Completely.
Chris stared at the ceiling.
The assistants stared at the floor.
One poor intern looked moments away from spiritual ascension.
And Harrison?
Harrison’s face went cold enough to stop hearts.
Theo only smiled wider.
“Oh,” he added lightly, “was that supposed to be private?”
- Writer
