Chapter 12

Music Recommendation: Secret Love Song - Little Mix ft. Jason Derulo.

....

Ellie's smile widened. "Ana_"

Anastasia shook her head, and cut her off. "You may call me Mrs. MacQuoid." Her frown softened. "My husband does not require your presence. If he does, I'll review the reason why before sending it to you,"

Jamie's eyes narrowed, his gaze fixed on Anastasia with a mix of pride, mystery, and surprise. He hadn't expected her to assert herself like that, especially not in front of Ellie. The days he looked at her the past few days, he tagged her as a scared kitten.

"You review his appointments?" Ellie asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You've trained her well, Jamie. To be your assistant rather than a wife,"

Anastasia's eyes flashed with a warning, but Jamie just chuckled. "I think you'll find that my wife is not so easily trained," he said, his eyes never leaving Anastasia's face.

Ellie raised an eyebrow. She has never seen him standing up for someone, not to mention fixing his eyes on a woman's face that long.

Narrowing her eyes, she fixed her vixen eyes on Anastasia one last time before stomping out of the office

Jamie turned to Anastasia. "She's a friend of Robb." He explained.

Anastasia smiled warmly. He doesn't owe her any explanation. Her heart left her chest when Jamie wrapped his hand around her waist and drew her closer.

He stared straight into her eyes, used his index finger to play with her hair and said. "I owe you every explanation."

Anastasia blinked rapidly. With him so close to her, she caught a whiff of his perfume, and it made her momentarily dizzy. A part of her would love to bury her face in his neck and smell his skin.

Holding his knee-weakening gaze, Anastasia cleared her throat and whispered. "Where do I work? I… Where's my office, Jamie?"

Jamie stepped away from her. He fixed his hands into his pants pockets and looked around. "Here,"

Anastasia looked around and nodded, her eyes taking in the opulent decor of the office. The room was a masterclass in wealthy masculine style, with dark wood paneling that seemed to absorb the light and leather-trimmed walls that added a touch of sophistication. The plush carpet beneath her feet was a deep rich brown in color.

As she gazed around, her eyes landed on the polished mahogany desk, its high-gloss finish reflecting the light like a mirror. Behind it, a leather executive chair, its supple leather creased and worn in just the right places to suggest years of use.

The walls were adorned with statement pieces - a large art collection that seemed to span centuries, and sculptures that added a touch of modernity to the space. A well-stocked bar in one corner seemed to beckon, its brass accents glinting in the soft light.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, the glass gleaming like diamonds in the sunlight. Advanced technology was discreetly integrated into the space, with a large flat-screen TV and a state-of-the-art sound system that seemed to hum with power.

A personal assistant's desk sat discreetly in one corner, a sleek and modern contrast to the rich wood and leather that dominated the room. A private bathroom or washroom was tucked away behind a discreet door, its presence hinted at by the subtle scent of luxury soap and the soft glow of a crystal sconce.

His desk was a commanding presence in the room, a massive slab of polished mahogany that seemed to anchor the space. The surface was scarred and scuffed, bearing the battle marks of countless meetings and negotiations.

Jamie handed her a card. "First, go and find Mr. Thompson. Look after his progress rate with the newly signed models."

Anastasia accepted the card with a small smile. Nodding lightly, she left the office and that was how the workload started.

...

With a deep breath, Anastasia struggled to keep her eyes open. Her first day at work wasn't as she expected.

Deep down, she expected special treatment, since she was his wife. Yet, to her surprise, he ordered her around without a single care. She only had time to eat around 8 pm, in the company canteen before driving home with him.

Her whole body ached, and before she knew it, she rested her head on the window and dozed off.

Jamie raised his face from his laptop. He stared at her for a short second and returned to work.

Seeking comfort, Anastasia leaned her head towards Jamie's side, and he instinctively moved closer, cradling her head in the crook of his shoulder, allowing her to rest her cheek against the warmth of his skin.

Jamie watched as she snored and drooled on his shoulder. She must be really exhausted. He gave her crazy workloads on purpose.

The car made a light bump. Jamie frowned immediately. "Careful," he gave Anastasia's head a light pat so she wouldn't open her eyes. "Don't make her uncomfortable,"

Jamie tenderly closed his laptop and set it aside, his eyes never leaving hers. He settled deeper into the car seat, his fingers gently intertwining with hers as he cradled her hand.

As they arrived in the yard, he didn't leave the car, he simply sat in the car with her. He instructed his driver to leave, and for the next hour, Jamie sat patiently, cherishing the quiet moment with her. Her head rested peacefully on his shoulder, and he savored the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

Anastasia's eyelids fluttered open, her gaze blurry as she slowly regained consciousness. She was met with an unfamiliar ceiling - the car's interior.

Disoriented, she lifted her head, realizing she was resting on Jamie's shoulder. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered drooling on him. Mortified, she tried to pull away, but Jamie's gentle grip on her hand held her in place.

"Wipe the corner of your lips," Jamie whispered, his voice low and soothing. "A maid might see you."

Anastasia's eyes widened as she took in their position - her head on his shoulder, his hand cradling hers. She felt a flutter in her chest, surprised by the tender gesture. "Jamie... I... uh..."

Jamie tried fighting the urge not to laugh. Unfortunately, a smile spread across his lips. He liked her head strands sticking to her forehead. The image took his mind fifteen years back.