Apparently, I've acquired a stalker. And not the fun kind that sends flowers and writes poetry—the workplace variety that lurks by copy machines and asks questions designed to make your skin crawl.
Adelyn.
At first, I thought her constant hovering was just standard office nosiness. You know, the kind of boredom-induced curiosity that makes people invest way too much emotional energy in other people's lunch choices. But lately, her "casual" interest has evolved into something that feels distinctly predatory.
"Heading somewhere, Jas?" she'll chirp with that fake-bright voice whenever I so much as breathe in the direction of an exit. Like she's conducting surveillance disguised as small talk.
What I'd initially written off as workplace personality disorder is starting to feel calculated. Deliberate. The kind of calculated that makes you check over your shoulder and wonder what exactly someone thinks they're going to find.
After last night's intensity with Liam—which, holy shit, still makes my brain short-circuit when I think about it—I arrived at the office stupidly early.
I kept replaying the way he'd looked at me. Not like Finn, who wanted me the way he wanted a good time—bright and hot and uncomplicated. Not like Asher, whose desire felt like something dragged out of him against his will.
Liam looked at me like I was the answer to a question he'd been afraid to ask.
And that terrified me more than the others ever had. Because with Finn and Asher, I could tell myself it was just physical. Release. Escape. With Liam, it felt like something I could lose.
Why him? I'd been with all three of them now. Why did my chest only ache like this when I thought about him?
I shook the thought away and focused on the quiet. The building was practically empty, exactly how I like it. Peaceful. No constant buzz of corporate bullshit that makes clear thinking impossible.
I was making coffee in the kitchenette, minding my own goddamn business, when movement caught my peripheral vision. Adelyn, materializing like some kind of workplace poltergeist, standing by the counter and fidgeting with a sugar packet like it held the secrets of the universe.
Her smile was textbook professional, but her eyes? Sharp as broken glass.
"Early start today?" she asked, tone carefully casual. "Or just couldn't sleep?"
Classic fishing expedition. The kind of question designed to sound innocent while actually being loaded with implication.
I shrugged, taking a sip of coffee. "Something like that."
"Mmm." Her gaze drifted toward the hallway leading to the executive offices, and I swear I could practically hear her brain calculating. "Lots of closed-door meetings lately. You must be exhausted, keeping up with all those... private consultations."
The way she said "private consultations" made my skin feel like it was trying to escape my body. There was an insinuation buried in those words, a suggestion that she knew more than she was letting on.
"You know," Adelyn continued, stirring her coffee with deliberate slowness, "Liam used to hate early mornings. Couldn't get him into the office before ten no matter what I tried." She smiled at me, all teeth. "But I suppose some assistants are more... motivating than others."
The words landed like a slap.
I tried. Past tense. Personal.
She and Liam. There was a she and Liam.
I didn't let my expression change, but my stomach hollowed out. Suddenly every sharp glance, every loaded question, every time she'd materialized out of nowhere—it all made a horrible kind of sense.
She wasn't investigating me. She was hunting me.
"That's how record labels work," I replied, forcing my voice to stay level. "Confidential projects, strategic planning. Standard corporate stuff."
Adelyn's laugh was about as genuine as a three-dollar bill. "Of course. I'm sure it's all very... professional."
I walked away before I could say something that would confirm whatever suspicions were clearly brewing in her scheming little head.
Even now, part of me wanted to find an excuse for her. Maybe she didn't mean it that way. Maybe I'm reading into things. That was the problem with being the kind of person who looked for light everywhere—sometimes you looked for it in people who only wanted to cast shadows.
I was halfway back to my desk when it happened.
The elevator doors opened and a cluster of junior A&R reps spilled out, laughing about something, coffees in hand. Normal morning chaos. I stepped aside to let them pass.
Adelyn's voice cut across the lobby like a scalpel.
"Jasmine! Perfect timing." She was standing by the reception desk, and she wasn't alone—two coordinators from Marketing were beside her, mid-conversation. All three turned to look at me.
"I was just telling Priya and Derek about the Blackwood project," Adelyn said, her smile bright and poisonous. "How you've been putting in so many late nights with Liam. Such dedication."
The emphasis on late nights was unmistakable. Priya's eyebrows rose. Derek suddenly found his coffee fascinating.
"It's a demanding project," I said. My voice came out steady, but my face was burning.
"Oh, I'm sure it is." Adelyn tilted her head, mock-sympathetic. "I remember how demanding Liam can be. But I'm sure you're handling it beautifully. You're so... eager to please."
The silence stretched. The junior reps had stopped walking. I could feel eyes on me from every direction—the receptionist, the people waiting for the elevator, the Marketing coordinators exchanging loaded glances.
I stood there, skin on fire, while Adelyn watched me with the satisfied patience of a cat that had cornered something small.
"Excuse me," I managed. "I have a call."
I walked away. Didn't run. Kept my spine straight even though my hands were shaking. But I could hear the whispers starting before I even reached the hallway.
Back at my desk, I stared at my computer screen without seeing it. My phone buzzed with a text that felt like a lifeline.
Office lobby. With coffee. Come save me from corporate decor. —Nora
Thank Christ. I grabbed my jacket and escaped downstairs, grateful for any excuse to get away from the oppressive feeling of being everyone's favorite topic.
Nora was waiting by the lobby fountain, looking like she'd stepped out of a magazine spread about successful women who have their shit together. Tailored suit, designer heels, and two coffee cups from the expensive place down the street—the kind I could never justify buying for myself.
"Okay, spill it," she said without preamble, handing me a latte. "What's wrong? You look like you've been hit by a truck driven by anxiety."
"It's probably nothing," I started, then caught her look. "Okay, fine. Adelyn's being weird. Really weird."
"Weird how?"
"She got to me," I admitted, and my voice cracked on the last word. "In front of everyone. I just stood there like—like I was twelve again, waiting for someone to tell me I didn't belong."
The old wound. The foster kid wound. The one that whispered you're only here because someone felt sorry for you every time I walked into a room where people had money and pedigrees and parents who kept them.
I hated that Adelyn had found it so easily.
"What exactly did she say?" Nora's expression shifted into lawyer mode, sharp and analytical.
I told her. The kitchenette. The comment about Liam and mornings. The public performance in the lobby with an audience.
"She and Liam have history," I finished. "I didn't know until today."
Nora's eyes narrowed. "So she's not a corporate spy. She's a jealous ex with a vendetta."
"That's not exactly comforting."
"It's useful, though. Different motivation, different playbook." She studied my face with the kind of intensity that made her dangerous in courtrooms. "She'll push, Jas. That's what people like her do—they push until they find a crack, until they get a reaction that confirms their suspicions. So don't give her one."
"Easier said than done when she's announcing my schedule to half the Marketing department."
Nora stepped closer, her voice dropping to that confident courtroom tone. "Look at everything you've survived. Foster care. Supporting Leo through his disasters. Building a career in one of the most cutthroat industries on the planet." She gripped my arm. "You're not that scared little assistant anymore, Jasmine. You just forgot."
Her words hit like a revelation.
She was right. Somewhere along the way, I'd stopped being the girl who apologized for existing. The promotion, the way the brothers looked at me with actual respect and desire, the knowledge that I could make impossible decisions and live with the consequences—it had all fundamentally changed me.
The brothers had given me that without even realizing it—not by saving me, but by showing me I didn't have to save everyone else to be worth something. For the first time in my life, I was allowed to just exist. To want things for myself. To make music and be needed and not apologize for taking up space.
"You're right," I said, feeling tension leave my shoulders. "I can handle one jealous ex-girlfriend."
"Damn straight you can." Nora's smile turned predatory. "And if she tries anything else, you call me. I'll destroy her so completely she'll need GPS to find her own reflection."
For the first time that morning, I felt ready to face whatever came next. Adelyn could watch all she wanted, could throw her little comments like grenades in crowded lobbies.
She'd find a woman who wasn't afraid anymore.
"Thank you," I said, meaning it more than she could possibly know.
"That's what friends are for." Nora checked her watch. "Now get back up there and remind them why they're lucky to have you. And remember—you belong in that building just as much as anyone else."