CHAPTER 57

 Beatrice’s POV

I should say no. I should walk away.

But curiosity — dangerous, reckless curiosity — held me in place.

How many times had I reminded myself that I wouldn’t consider anything that issued from Robert Lee? He was the competitor of our company. And here I was, standing in front of him, debating whether to listen.

That alone told me how much my world had changed.

“…One coffee,” I said after a long pause, my voice steadier than I felt. “That’s all.”

“After you,” he said smoothly.

I rolled my eyes but said nothing. There was no point. The moment I hesitated was the moment I had made my decision.

The interior was engulfed with the smell of lush coffee, leather chairs, and polished wood as I walked in. It was an expensive café, the kind of place where businessmen met over lattes to broker million-dollar deals, where power traded hands in hushed conversations, where a guy like Robert Lee felt right at home.

A waiter promptly directed us to a secluded corner booth, away from prying eyes.

Of course.

Robert did nothing in public without it being a reason.

I slid into the plush seat.

He ordered an espresso, not even glancing at the menu. I, still suspicious, ordered a plain black coffee.

There was a silence that flowed between us, heavy with everything we didn’t say.

It was Robert who broke the news first. He sat forward, elbows on the table, unreadable.

“You just seem tense,” he remarked, tilting his head slightly.

I folded my arms, giving him a flat look. “I don’t like games, Robert. You said you had an offer. Get to the point.”

His lips twisted, as if my impatience amused him.

“Straight to business,” he said, thinking. “I like that.”

The waiter came back with our drinks and gently set them down before leaving.

Robert took a deliberate sip of his espresso, then broke the silence.

“I’d like to make you a business proposal, Beatrice.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A business proposal?”

Of course, he smirked and nodded. “A three times your current salary one.”

I blinked, blindsided entirely. “Excuse me?”

“You’re talented. You’re smart. And you have… potential.” “His eyes slid over me, made my stomach churn. “I want to make you an offer to come work at my firm. With better pay, better benefits, and — and  — he trailed off, voice dropping lower — “better treatment.”

My jaw clenched.

I wasn’t stupid. This wasn’t just a job offer.

“What would my job, specifically, entail?” I asked cautiously.

Robert’s smirk deepened. “You’d be like my personal assistant. You deserve to work for someone who actually values you.

I bristled. “Oh, so that’s what this is about?” I scoffed. “You want me to walk away from Xander’s company to work for you?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” He shrugged. “I look after my employees, Beatrice. Unlike some people.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And when you say ‘some people,’ do you mean Xander?”

His smirk didn’t falter. “And I think we both know he doesn’t really… value you the way he ought to.”

A cool trickle ran down my spine.

This was not any ordinary job offer.

Robert wasn’t only treading the line between seduction and manipulation — he was planting doubts, sowing the seeds of disharmony between Xander and me.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Xander had been distant. He had been avoiding me.

He had pretended Cape Town had never happened for two days. As if all those stolen glances, those heated moments, the way he’d let me see peeks under his cold veneer — none of it mattered.

He had blocked me without so much as an explanation.

And now here was Robert, putting an escape hatch in front of me.

Sweet freedom from chasing someone who wouldn’t let me inside.

Then I thought, for half a second.

What if I did take his offer?

What if I just left Xander’s world behind, and started over, somewhere else?

Well, what if I stopped fighting for something that never belonged to me anyways?

It was an idle thought, a flash of temptation, but one that went away just as quickly.

Because deep down, I knew.

This wasn’t about a job.

This was about leverage.

Reason Robert didn’t just want me working for him — he wanted me working against Xander.

And no matter how hurt or upset I was with Xander at the moment, I would not be some fucking pawn of another person’s.”

I tasted my coffee and then locked eyes with Robert directly.

“Very tempting offer,” I said coolly. “But I’m not for sale.”

There was something unreadable in his eyes, but he didn’t seem surprised.

He just laughed, swirling his espresso cup around on his fingertips.

“Oh, Beatrice,” he said, shaking his head a little. “You should really think twice about this.”

And the way he said it sent another ripple of unease through me.

I put my cup down and made myself return his gaze.

“Why?” I did, my voice steady with the tension tangling in my gut. “Why do you care what I do for a living?”

His smirk grew wider, but something beneath the surface felt colder.

“Because, darling,” he said, his voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “You are standing in a war, whether you know it or not. And in a war?” He leaned in slightly. “It’s always best to choose the winning side.”

A chill crept down my spine.

But that didn’t mean I trusted Robert.

I fought a neutral face; steeled my features into faint indifference. “I’ll think about it.”

Robert eyed me for a long moment, like he was able to peel my words back and see something truer buried under them. His beady eyes studied my face, searching, prying, testing the heft of my answer.

Then he leaned across the table, with a knowing smirk, and slowly twirled his fingers in his finishing dregs of espresso.

“You and Xander,” he said, stretching the words as though he were licking the flavor off of them, “you’re… interesting.”

A cold coil of unease was tightening in my gut.

I relaxed my posture — my fingers were loosely curled around the strap of my bag — but my pulse had already given me away, pounding an agitated drumbeat against my ribs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, my voice smooth, measured.

Robert laughed, deep and mirthful, but under the sound there was something more edged. Something dangerous.

“Oh, Beatrice.” His glance flashed with something like pity. “Don’t insult my intelligence.” His fingers drummed absently on his espresso cup. Then his face changed, the amusement evaporating like mist burned off by the morning sun. He held my gaze, unblinking, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, but no less lethal.

“I know.”

Blood in my veins turned to ice.

He knew?

Knew what exactly?

What had he seen? What had he heard?

I ran through everything, every little interaction I’d had with Xander since I returned from New Jersey. The stolen glances, the tension, the silent conversations that lingered thick between us — had I been too obvious?

Had someone been watching us?

I felt a cold dread fill the room, but I kept my face admirably blank. “There’s nothing to know,” I said, coolly, willing my voice not to tremble.

Robert chuckled lightly, shaking his head as if I were a silly little kid telling an obvious lie. “If you say so.”

I met his stare, refusing to reveal the doubts that danced in my head. But the air between us had grown dense, the weight of his untold words squeezing my heart.

I had to get out of here.

Shoving aside my untouched coffee, I picked up my bag and stood as while I forced my actions to be as composed as possible. “Appreciate the offer,” I said, my tone curt, matter of fact.” “But I will need time to think about it.”

Robert didn’t stop me.

Didn’t argue. Didn’t push.

He could just lean back in his seat with nonchalance; he had all the time in the world. He swirled the remainder of his espresso around in the glass, took a slow sip, and looked over the rim of his cup at me.

“Take your time,” he said smoothly. “I’ll be waiting.”

The utterance sent chills down my spine.

I didn’t look back.

I walked out onto the sidewalk, inhaling gulps of crisp, cool air, attempting to dispel the sensation that something might be amiss.

The street was filled with life, people passing in and out of blurr, voices blurting into indistinguishable sounds. I should have felt relief.

But I didn’t.

Because something remained — an unseen weight pushing against the back of my neck, causing the tiny bits of hair there to tingle.

I was being watched.

I could feel it.

My fingers instinctively tightened around the strap of my bag as I turned my head just a little, catching a glimpse of the café window.

Robert was still there.

Still watching me.

But something had changed.

The smirk that had come to him so easily, so assuredly — vanished.

His face gave nothing away, his eyes darker, colder.

Like a man who’d just had his suspicions confirmed.

Like one of those predators, finally catching a weak spot.

And then—

He picked up his phone.

Dialed a number.

Held it to his ear.

And smiled.