The CEO Above My Desk Chapter 168

***Violet***

By the time the coffee finally arrives, the office has somehow become even more chaotic.

Camille immediately snatches her coffee carrier from the delivery guy like she’s reclaiming a stolen child.

“Oh thank God,” she breathes dramatically before taking a sip. “That’s the first good thing that’s happened in like twelve hours.”

Theo watches her carefully. “You say that every time you drink coffee.”

“Because every time I drink coffee, I’m right.”

Meanwhile, Rowan’s office has devolved into complete corporate warfare.

Phones ringing. Security updates. Emails flooding in. Executives requesting emergency meetings. Legal teams demanding statements.

At one point I swear somebody from accounting started crying in the hallway.

And through all of it? Rowan is still standing behind his desk looking one inconvenience away from strangling somebody with a necktie.

Which means unfortunately for everyone involved, assistant mode activates automatically. Because apparently my trauma response is organization.

I walk around his office grabbing files off chairs and separating stacks across the desk while Rowan argues with somebody from legal over speakerphone.

“No,” he says coldly. “I don’t care what the board wants. We are not postponing operations because investors suddenly developed anxiety.” Pause. “They can survive discomfort for twenty-four hours.”

I quietly mute another incoming call on his desk phone before rerouting it toward Devin’s office instead.

Rowan notices immediately. His eyes flick toward me briefly.

I ignore him completely. Because I’m still annoyed. But also because somebody in this building has to function today.

Theo drops into one of the office chairs looking emotionally exhausted while Camille steals his coffee and drinks half of it too. “You know,” Theo mutters, “I really thought today would somehow get less terrible.”

Camille snorts into the coffee cup. “That was your first mistake.”

I pull Rowan’s tablet toward me again while opening his calendar.

And immediately regret existing. “What psychopath organized this schedule?”

Rowan answers without looking away from his phone call. “You.”

I stare at the screen harder. The entire afternoon schedule looks impossible now with media surrounding the building and the FBI moving through multiple departments downstairs.

I start deleting meetings immediately. Rescheduling others. Forwarding security updates. And weirdly enough? The familiar routine helps. Not emotionally. Nothing is fixing that disaster right now.

But mentally? It helps having something concrete to control.

One of Rowan’s executives suddenly storms into the office without knocking. Middle-aged. Expensive suit. Already sweating.

“We have shareholders threatening to pull investments,” he starts immediately. “And now reporters are claiming the company is connected to government corruption—”

“They’re not claiming,” Camille mutters. “It’s literally true.”

Theo coughs into his coffee.

The executive looks confused.

I don’t even glance up from the tablet. “Then maybe don’t help corrupt politicians next time.”

“I didn’t—”

“Great,” I interrupt flatly. “Then you should have nothing to worry about.”

The man blinks at me.

Rowan finally ends his phone call before looking toward the executive coldly. “What exactly are you contributing to this situation besides panic?”

The man immediately straightens. Right. Forgot who signs his paychecks.

“We just need reassurance,” he says carefully.

“No,” Rowan says flatly. “What you need is competence.”

Jesus Christ.

The executive visibly deflates. I almost feel bad for him. He leaves a few seconds later looking emotionally traumatized.

Camille watches him go before slowly looking toward Rowan. “You know, normal CEOs usually try not to threaten their employees during active federal investigations.”

Rowan loosens his tie a little bit more. “Normal CEOs don’t survive this long.”

My phone suddenly buzzes beside the tablet. News alerts. Lots of them.

And then... Leah’s article finally drops.

Theo notices my expression immediately. “What?”

I slowly turn the screen toward them.

*ASHCROFT INDUSTRIES CEO SECRETLY FUNDED HOUSING INITIATIVE FOR FIVE YEARS*

Subheadline: *CITY PROJECT STALLED DESPITE PRIVATE FUNDING AND DEVELOPMENT PLANS*

The office goes quiet immediately.

Camille leans forward fast enough I’m surprised she doesn’t spill coffee everywhere. “Oh my God.”

Theo grabs his phone. Then laughs once softly in disbelief. “It’s already blowing up online.”

I glance toward Rowan. And wow.

That expression on his face, shock. Actual shock. I genuinely don’t think this man expected anyone to care about the project itself. Only the scandal surrounding it.

Camille scrolls quickly through the article. “Oh she’s good.”

Theo snorts. “Terrifyingly good.”

“She included the environmental plans.”

“She included the employment rehabilitation program too.”

“Oh my God she linked the blueprints.”

Rowan slowly takes the phone from Theo and reads the article himself. The room grows quieter the longer he stares at the screen.

Then his phone starts ringing.

Again. Another. Then another. Board members. Press. Investors.

Everybody reacting at once.

I reach over calmly and silence two of the incoming calls immediately. “Breathe before you have a heart attack,” I mutter.

His eyes flick toward me again. Longer this time. Softer.

And annoyingly enough?

That tiny look almost makes me forgive him.

*Almost.*

Then shouting suddenly erupts somewhere outside the office.

Loud enough every single person in the room immediately looks toward the hallway.

Theo groans loudly from the couch. “What now?”

Security voices echo sharply outside the office doors.

Men yelling over each other. Footsteps. Something crashes against the wall outside.

A woman screams. “They’re going to kill me!”

Every person in the room freezes.

The next second, the office doors slam open hard enough to rattle the glass walls beside them.

And Avery stumbles inside looking completely out of her mind. Not messy in the dramatic crying-on-a-bathroom-floor kind of way.

No.

She looks hunted.

Her blonde hair is tangled and partially ripped from its neat style like somebody grabbed her by it at some point. Mascara streaks down both cheeks while one side of her face is turning dark purple beneath the office lights.

There’s dried blood near her lip.

Her blouse is wrinkled and half untucked like she threw it back on in a panic. One heel is missing completely, leaving her limping unevenly across the hardwood floor.

And her hands... Jesus. Her hands are shaking so violently she can barely keep herself upright.

For one horrible second, nobody moves.

Because seeing Avery terrified feels wrong somehow.

This woman spent two years moving through Ashcroft Industries like she belonged there. Perfect makeup. Perfect schedules. Perfect little smiles while she quietly fed information to corrupt politicians behind everyone’s backs.

But this?

This version of her looks broken. Human. Terrified.

“They know,” she gasps again frantically. “Oh my God—they know what I did—”

Her eyes lock onto Rowan.

And before anybody can react, she runs straight toward him.

Actually runs.

Stumbling across the office before practically crashing into him hard enough to nearly knock into his desk.

“Rowan,” she chokes out desperately. “Please—”