JASMINE'S POV
I woke up the next morning with a pit in my stomach I couldn't explain.
After the little drama with whoever the hell Elena was, I'd stormed down to the kitchen like I owned the place.
A few members of the kitchen staff had offered to show me the dining room—probably something straight out of a royal drama—but I waved them off and grabbed a box of cereal instead.
Classy, I know.
But I wasn't in the mood for elegance. I was in the mood for crunch, milk, and silence.
The worst part?
I didn't know why I was so worked up. Okay, that was a lie.
I did know.
I wasn't stupid.
I shook my head and tried not to name the feeling.
It wasn't jealousy.
Definitely not jealousy because that'd be ridiculous.
Okay… maybe it was.
But I had expected him to come find me… check in. Not because I needed him to, but because it was the right thing to do. To at least offer an explanation for why the icy blonde villainess from every revenge-drama ever made had waltzed into his house and acted like I was the extra.
But Aiden never came.
No knock.
No explanation.
No note slipped under the door with his usual smug handwriting.
Just silence.
Not that I cared, I told myself as I rinsed my cereal bowl and dropped it into the marble sink like a mic drop.
This wasn't the time to be bothered by some groveling ex or whatever Elena was.
I had a company to run.
I took a long, scalding shower, pinned my hair into a sleek twist, and threw on a navy-blue pantsuit with gold accents. I paired it with gold hoop earrings, a matching bracelet and finished off the look with chic black heels.
By the time I reached outside, the morning sun was already up. It wasn't difficult locating the garage, and when I entered, my jaw nearly hit the floor.
Cars.
There were dozens of them, ranging in colour from sedans to luxury cars to sports cars. They looked like something out of a spy movie.
I blinked. "Okay, Bruce Wayne," I muttered under my breath.
As I stood there trying to remember how to breathe, a man in a black suit approached. "Good morning, Mrs. Frost. I'm Evan. I've been assigned to drive you today."
I blinked. "Assigned?"
He nodded, completely serious. "Mr. Frost gave instructions. I'm your chauffeur."
"I can drive myself," I said flatly.
"I understand," he said, not blinking. "But if you leave without me, I'll lose my job."
Well, damn.
I blew out a breath. "Fine. But I pick the car."
"Yes, ma'am. Which one?"
I walked past a Lamborghini, a Bentley, and something with butterfly doors, then pointed to my favorite familiar shape in the lineup—my own car. It was clean, efficient, and did not scream, "I own seven private islands."
"This one," I said, slipping on my sunglasses.
Evan opened the door with a bow, like I was royalty.
I rolled my eyes and slid into the seat.
—
We pulled into Heart Enterprises twenty minutes later. The morning crowd bustled outside, but the moment I stepped out, the atmosphere shifted.
It wasn't news anymore that I was the new CEO. It had spread like wildfire across every corporate circle in the city.
Still, the difference was obvious.
The bows were deeper.
The greetings were sharper.
The fear in a few interns' eyes? Delicious.
I made my way through the building, heels echoing on the polished floor. I nodded at a few department heads, accepted one too many compliments, and rode the executive elevator up to the top floor.
My floor.
What was the first thing I noticed when I stepped into my new office?
They'd redone everything.
The walls were now dark oak and marble with soft recessed lighting. The furniture had been replaced with something sleeker—leather, brass, and glass.
But the real kicker?
The nameplate on my desk.
Jasmine Heart Frost
—Chief Executive Officer
Not "Head of Operations." Not "Jasmine Heart."
CEO.
I stood there for a moment, just staring.
Then I pulled out my phone, took a picture, and sent it to Sophia with one word: "Queen."
A string of celebratory emojis came back within seconds, followed by: "If you don't frame that, I swear I'll do it for you."
I laughed, shaking my head.
After a moment, I dropped my bag, powered on the laptop, and called HR. After two rings, the personnel manager answered.
"I want to schedule a meeting," I said. "We'll need to hire a new secretary or personal assistant to help manage my schedule. One that doesn't report to my uncle."
"Yes, ma'am. I'll send up the list of vetted candidates."
I was just about to hang up when a knock echoed through the office.
"Come in," I called, expecting the HR manager.
Instead?
In walked the last person I expected to see before the end of the day.
Aiden Frost.
Dark suit. Rolled sleeves. That maddening smirk that made you want to slap him and kiss him in the same breath.
He stepped inside like he owned the place.
Well. Technically… he kind of did.
"Good morning, wifey," he said.
I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. "To what do I owe this royal visit, Your Highness?"
He grinned. "Just checking in on my reigning queen."
I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you sure you're not here to make sure I didn't fire half the board before lunch?"
"Tempting," he drawled, strolling toward the desk. "But no."
He leaned against the edge of it, too close, too casual, like he knew exactly how to get under my skin.
Which, annoyingly, he did.
I narrowed my eyes. "Aiden."
He grinned. "I see someone's been practicing her CEO glare."
"Some of us have jobs to do. Don't you have something better to do in your own office?"
He gave me a slow, infuriatingly sexy smile. "I have a better offer."
I tilted my head. "Oh?"
He leaned down, voice dipping like liquid smoke. "Work for me. Be my P.A."
I blinked.
Then laughed.
Hard.
"You're insane," I said through gasps. "Completely, certifiably insane."
He shrugged. "Maybe. But I pay well. Very well."
"You already married me. What more do you want? My calendar access?"
He grinned. "My office suddenly feels boring. Besides, we could match suits. Sync schedules. Share coffee."
"I'd poison yours."
He leaned in a fraction more. "You wouldn't dare."
I met his gaze. "Try me."
The tension was thick now. Electric.
His eyes flicked down to my lips for a half-second too long.
I stood quickly, clearing my throat. "Nice try, Mr. Frost. But I have a company to run."
He smirked. "So do I."
"Then go run it."
"I'd rather run into you."
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling despite myself.
"Out," I said, pointing toward the door. "Before I assign you to the intern desk on floor five."
"But think about it."
"You want me to give up being CEO—of my own family's company—to run around fetching your lattes and managing your meetings?"
He shrugged, unbothered. "You'd get to travel more."
"I'm sure you have a secretary already."
"She doesn't wear power suits and insult me for fun."
I rolled my eyes. "Get out."
He grinned. "You'll think about it."
"No, I won't."
"Still counts," he said, walking backward toward the door like the cocky, beautiful menace he was.
Just before slipping out, he added, "Close of Business is 4 p.m. I'll be back to pick you up."
And just like that, he was gone.
Leaving me flustered.
Slightly amused.
And maybe—just maybe—looking forward to the end of the day.
—
True to his word, at exactly 4:00 p.m. on the dot, my phone buzzed.
Aiden Frost.
I didn't bother answering. I just gathered my things, tossed my phone into my bag, and headed for the elevator. Knowing him, he was already downstairs—probably leaning against a car with his sleeves rolled up and that smirk like he owned time itself.
Sure enough, when the elevator doors opened to the lobby, there he stood. One hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding a glass of some cold drink he casually offered me without a word.
I took it without comment.
We didn't speak much on the ride home.
It wasn't awkward.
It wasn't tense.
It was just… quiet.
Comfortable.
Which was somehow worse.
We pulled into the curved driveway of his mansion just as the sky turned a dusky gold. I stepped out, heels clicking against the stone, and followed him toward the grand front doors.
Before we could step inside, a deep, warm voice echoed in the air.
"I was beginning to wonder when you two would finally show up."
I stopped walking.
So did Aiden.
A moment later, an older man stepped into view—tall, silver-haired, and dressed like nobility had casually decided to vacation in our century.
Aiden's voice dropped, stunned. "Grandpa?!"