Chapter 3
Cassie had barely settled into her new routine at Masters Enterprises when Christian handed her a task that would challenge her in ways she never expected. The assignment came in the form of a single sentence, delivered with that same cold, detached tone he had used on her first day.
"I need you to handle the press conference tomorrow," he said, glancing up from his desk to meet her eyes—steady, unblinking. "Make sure it runs smoothly."
Her heart skipped a beat. It wasn't that she lacked the qualifications—she'd handled high-pressure events before. But this one felt different. Press conferences weren't just events; they were battlefields where reputations could rise or crash. One misstep and everything could unravel.
"Yes, Mr. Masters," she replied, her voice steady even as the pressure settled heavily on her shoulders.
The next day, Cassie stood backstage in the grand hall of Masters Enterprises' headquarters, where the company's latest acquisition was about to be announced. Reporters buzzed in the rows of chairs, their attention divided between their notepads, cameras, and the anticipation hanging thick in the air. This deal was big—an industry-shifting move—and the world was watching.
Cassie double-checked the schedule, earpiece in, notes clutched tight. Everything needed to be flawless. She'd rehearsed this moment in her head, gone over the contingencies, and still—she could feel her nerves tightening.
Then, like a storm entering a calm sea, Christian arrived. The atmosphere shifted immediately. Dressed in a charcoal-gray suit that cut sharp lines across his frame, he moved like he owned the space—because he did. Conversation quieted. Reporters leaned forward.
Cassie watched him with a strange duality—impressed by his dominance, unnerved by how effortlessly he wielded it.
Christian stepped to the podium. He didn't speak right away, letting the silence stretch long enough for tension to thrum in the walls.
Finally, his voice cut through the room, smooth and cool as glass. "Let's get this over with."
Cassie positioned herself behind the stage curtain, clutching the prepared questions, prepared to coordinate from the shadows. This wasn't about her—it was Christian's stage. But she'd made sure every light, every cue, every camera angle was perfect.
The first question came quickly.
"Mr. Masters, the acquisition of Zenix Industries has drawn criticism for its timing. With tech markets unstable, isn't this a reckless move?"
Christian's lips curled in a smirk, utterly unfazed. "I don't make decisions based on fear or speculation. I make them based on data. And the data tells me this acquisition will expand our dominance."
He paused. "We don't explain ourselves to critics. We outperform them."
A murmur rippled through the press pool. Flashbulbs popped. Cassie felt the momentum building—but then, a loud crack echoed through the room.
The microphone screeched.
For one horrifying second, Christian's voice distorted into static. Technicians froze.
Cassie didn't. She moved.
Sliding behind the curtain, she motioned sharply to the AV backup tech. "Switch to podium two. Now."
Within seconds, the glitch vanished. Christian, without missing a beat, continued his sentence into the second mic as if the interruption had never happened.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her.
He gave her the faintest nod.
Cassie stepped back, pulse pounding, her calm exterior never cracking. The room hadn't noticed—but Christian had. And that mattered.
Another reporter stood. "Isn't your aggressive acquisition strategy alienating potential partners?"
Christian's gaze hardened. "Tension is part of the game. If you're not playing to win, you're playing to lose. And I don't lose."
Then came the curveball.
"Mr. Masters, there's a rumor you're preparing to name a successor. Is that true? And if so, what kind of person are you looking for?"
Cassie stiffened.
Christian didn't.
He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "I've built this company from the ground up. I've bled for it. Every inch of this empire carries my fingerprints."
A pause.
"If someone ever replaces me, they'd better be willing to bleed for it too."
The room went silent.
Cassie watched the faces of the reporters—shocked, captivated. He hadn't just answered the question. He'd redefined the narrative.
As the press conference wound down, Cassie exhaled for what felt like the first time. The reporters filtered out, murmuring amongst themselves.
She gathered her notes quickly, head down, ready to disappear back into the wings.
"Cassie."
His voice stopped her.
She turned—and he was closer than she expected.
"You handled yourself well," he said, his gaze sharp and unreadable. "Almost like you belong here."
The words hit harder than they should have.
Then he stepped back. "Don't let it go to your head."
Cassie didn't reply. But as she walked away, she allowed herself a smile.
Maybe she did belong here.
And maybe he knew it.