MARRIED TO MY RUTHLESS BOSS

FOUR; Grandfather’s Call

Daniel didn't speak to Sephora for three days.

He gave her instructions through emails. He took his calls in the conference room instead of his office. He acted like she didn't exist, which was what he did best—compartmentalizing people into useful categories and moving on when they stopped being useful.

Sephora, for her part, didn't seem bothered. She came in early, stayed late, and fixed his world like it was her job. Which it was. But something had shifted between them on Wednesday, and Daniel couldn't unfeel it.

Friday afternoon, his phone buzzed with Grandfather's name.

'Danny, my boy. How are you?'

Daniel closed his office door immediately. The sound of his grandfather's voice did something to him that nothing else could—it made the armor c***k just slightly.

'I'm fine, Grandfather. How are you feeling?'

'Better when I hear from you. I miss seeing you.' There was longing in those words, the kind that made Daniel's chest tight. 'Tell me about work. Is the merger progressing?'

For the next twenty minutes, Daniel talked. He told Grandfather about the supply chain restructuring, the Ashford negotiations, the way the board was impressed but nervous. And Grandfather listened, asking the right questions, the ones that made Daniel feel like his work actually mattered because someone he loved was interested in it.

'You sound tired, Danny.'

'I'm fine.'

'That's what you always say.' Grandfather's laugh was gentle, almost sad. 'You know what I was thinking about? That girl who used to make those cookies. The baker. Remember her?'

Daniel did remember. His college girlfriend who'd tried to make him softer. It hadn't worked. 'Why would you think about her?'

'Because she used to make you smile. Real smiles. Not the ones you do in business meetings. I miss seeing you smile like that.'

'Grandfather—'

'I know, I know. You don't have time for that kind of thing. You have your empire. But Danny, one day you'll look around and realize that empires don't keep you warm at night.' His voice was getting quieter, more tired. 'Promise me you'll think about what matters. Before it's too late.'

That phrase again. Before it's too late. Like Grandfather knew something Daniel didn't.

'I promise,' Daniel said, and this time, maybe he meant it a little bit.

After they hung up, Daniel sat in the dark of his office, phone still in hand. He thought about smiling. About warmth. About someone who made you want to be softer.

His door opened without a knock. Sephora stood there with a file in her hand, and for a moment, they just looked at each other.

'The London reports,' she said quietly. 'I thought you might need them before the weekend.'

She wasn't looking at him. She was making it easy for him to ignore what had happened, to go back to their professional arrangement.

'Simons.' His voice was different. Softer. 'I apologize. For Wednesday.'

She paused. 'Okay.'

'I shouldn't have—' He stopped. Apologies didn't come naturally to him. Neither did admitting when someone was right about him. 'What you said. You were right.'

She looked at him then, really looked at him. And in the dim office light, Daniel saw something shift in her eyes. Recognition. Understanding. Forgiveness, maybe.

'You should go home,' she said. 'Get some sleep.'

It was exactly what he'd told her a dozen times. And hearing it from her felt like permission to be human.

'Come with me. I mean—let me buy you dinner. As an apology.'

She smiled. Small. Careful. Like she was testing whether she could trust this version of him.

'Okay,' she said. 'But not Eleven Madison. Somewhere simple.'

Daniel felt something loosen in his chest. It felt dangerous. Like falling.