CHAPTER 42: YOU ARE NOT

Winn arched a brow, tugging off his sunglasses

"No, you are not." Winn breezed past Linda. His long strides ate up the marble-floored lobby, shoes striking hard with every step. By the time he hit the stairs, his irritation had shifted into something darker. He took them two at a time, his body moving with the energy of someone on the brink of explosion. "I swear to God, Joey!" he muttered under his breath.

He reached the executive floor, the familiar hush of wealth and power greeting him. Winn stormed straight for Joey’s office, shoving the door open. Empty. The blinds were half-drawn, sunlight cutting across the desk. The absence of Joey’s irritatingly calm face made Winn’s blood thrum even louder.

Behind him, Linda was perched at her desk, her notepad trembling in her hand. She was willing herself to get swallowed by the ground, wishing the marble would open up and take her whole.

"Where the hell is Joey?" Winn demanded.

"He is not in yet, Mr. Kane. Shall I get him on the phone for you?" She tried to sound competent, professional.

"No, what I want is for you to get yourself out of that desk." He fired back. Winn stormed into his office and slammed the door behind him.

His sanctuary usually grounded him. Today it mocked him. He yanked his phone from his pocket, thumb flying across the screen to find Ivy’s number, only to realize with growing frustration that he didn’t have it. Of course not. He had never needed to call her. She was always there. Always anticipating. Always slipping into his office with her quiet grace and perfectly timed efficiency. Now she was gone.

"I’m gone for a week and the roof comes down?!" He stabbed at his screen and quickly dialed Joey instead. The moment Joey picked up, Winn thundered into the receiver. "What the fuck did you do with my secretary?"

"What do you mean? Your secretary should be there," Joey answered. He was driving, Winn could hear the low hum of the car in the background, the faint sound of traffic.

"I don’t see my secretary anywhere, Joey. My secretary is definitely not this bumbling idiot you had waiting for me." Winn snapped.

"Linda is quite capable. But if you do not want her, she can be replaced."

Winn pinched the bridge of his nose. "What did you do with Morales?" he demanded, each syllable ground out through clenched teeth.

"Oh... her!" Joey chuckled lightly. "Her contract ended last week. Did you forget it was a temp job?"

"Did you check in with her if she wanted it as a not-so-temp job, Joey?" Winn barked. The thought that Morales might’ve simply walked out of his life because Joey couldn’t be bothered to ask burned him.

"Winn, she is a college dropout."

"And she is more capable than all the airheads you’ve had circling me for years!" Winn roared. His temper rarely slipped this far, but Ivy had become part of his rhythm, his order. Without her, he felt... off balance.

"Oh my God." Joey’s gasp carried mockery. "Winn... have you been fucking your secretary?"

"What the—no! No, I have not! I want my secretary back."

"I’m almost at the office. We will talk then," Joey said casually and then he hung up.

Winn plopped into his chair, dragging his hand down his face with a groan. The day wasn’t starting well at all. How the fuck didn’t he have her number? How had he allowed himself to rely on someone so completely, only to realize too late he didn’t even know how to reach her outside office hours?

*****

Ivy had managed to land herself a steady job as a housekeeper for a well-to-do family. The pay wasn’t glamorous. The downside was clear—she was practically bound to the family’s schedule. She didn’t get to clock out early or slip away whenever she pleased. No, she stayed until after work on Fridays, cleaning up the remnants of their weekday chaos before she could even think of going home. Which meant that before she could collapse into her own bed, she had to make a detour to Commissioned—the club that both drained her and gave her the quick cash she needed to keep the lights on.

She glanced down at her phone as her cab weaved through traffic. A missed call lit up her screen. House of Kane. Her stomach sank. She tapped the number, tried to redial out of reflex, but it didn’t support a call back. Her pulse quickened as she racked her brain, replaying every detail from when she last left Winn’s office. Did she forget to file something? Did she misplace something?

Her thumb hovered over his name in her contacts. Winn. Just his name on her phone made her chest ache. She could call him. She could ask if the trip to the Netherlands had gone well, maybe even hear that low, velvety timbre of his voice when he wasn’t barking orders. But the problem was she didn’t trust herself. She missed him too much, and she knew her tongue would betray her heart. I miss you would spill out before she could stop them. And then what? She pressed the phone flat to her thigh and exhaled slowly, forcing her gaze out the window.

The cab jolted to a stop outside Commissioned. The neon sign flickered against the darkening sky, that same familiar pulse of electric pink and blue that screamed decadence and danger. Already, the bass from inside throbbed through the pavement, matching the rhythm of her heartbeat. It was always the same—buzzing music, laughter, shadows moving beneath the strobes, men with too much money.

As usual, she avoided the main entrance. Ivy knew better than to walk through the front where the patrons lingered with greedy eyes and wandering hands. Instead, she slipped down the alley and pushed through the back corridor that led straight into the dressing rooms. Girls were already half-dressed, tugging stockings up their thighs, adjusting bras.