Chapter 3
Jessica shut her eyes, overwhelmed. 'Oh no, my reputation is gone for good.'
Just then, the bathroom door swung open.
Xavier stepped out holding a large wrench, looking utterly innocent. His white shirt was soaked, dripping water everywhere.
"Honey, the drain was clogged. I fixed it. By the way, do we have any extra plumbing tape? The connection's a bit loose," he said.
Samantha looked at the wrench in Xavier's hand and then at his calm face.
"So you were just fixing the pipes," she said, her voice tinged with disappointment.
Jessica gritted her teeth, stormed over, and kicked Xavier in the shin. "Next time, stop making those weird noises while you work. Otherwise, I'll sew your mouth shut."
Xavier rubbed his leg, giving her a pitiful look. "But the pipe really was tight."
Jessica was left speechless. 'Well, let everything go to hell already.'
To save face in front of Samantha, Jessica took matters into her own hands and decided to cook herself.
That was a tough decision.
Jessica stood in the kitchen with her apron tied tight, spatula in hand, looking as intense as if she were leading the Normandy invasion.
"Seventy percent hot? How hot is that supposed to be?" she muttered under her breath.
She eyed the smoke billowing from the pan, paused for a heartbeat, then tossed the entire bowl of dripping wet greens right in.
With a loud bang, the oil pan erupted.
Sizzling oil sprayed out like shrapnel, flames shooting nearly two feet into the air.
"Holy crap, help me!" Jessica tossed aside any dignity, scrambling for safety with the spatula raised like a shield.
Xavier rushed against the chaos, diving straight into the blaze.
He swiftly turned off the stove, covered the pot, and opened the window.
In three seconds flat, the crisis was over.
He turned around and spotted Jessica hiding behind the fridge, trembling.
Xavier sighed, exasperated. "Ms. Lane, turning the kitchen into a weapon of mass destruction isn't meant for indoor use."
Jessica was still rattled, a smudge of soot on her face, looking for all the world like a stray kitten caught in the rain.
"This was an accident. The pan's to blame," she protested weakly.
Xavier walked over, reached out, and gently wiped the soot from her face with his thumb.
"Sure, it was the pan's fault. Next time, let me handle all the dangerous missions, okay?" he teased, his voice warm.
He took the spatula from Jessica's hand and rolled up his sleeves, showing off a bit of toned muscle.
"What would you like? Honey garlic ribs?" he offered.
Sunlight poured in through the window, bathing him in gold.
Jessica watched him move smoothly through the kitchen. For a moment, her heart fluttered.
'Well, this instant marriage thing might not be bad,' she thought.
Samantha sat at the dining table, waiting for her meal. Noticing the odd chemistry flowing between Jessica and Xavier, she set her fork aside silently.
'Man, this PDA is so overwhelming,' she thought.
*****
Jessica sat in the leather chair of her CEO's office, frowning at the contract on her desk.
Across from her sat David Warren, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and a beer belly, smiling like a puffed-up pastry.
He looked Jessica up and down with those beady eyes. "Ms. Lane, I really can't budge on this percentage.
"We've been old friends for years. Why don't we grab dinner tonight and talk things over?"
This wasn't a negotiation. It was blatant sexual harassment.
Jessica massaged her temples, fighting the urge to stab her pen straight into his nostrils.
Just then, the office door swung open.
No knocking, no warning.
The only ones who'd dare barge in like this were either Samantha or that "newly minted freeloader."
Jessica glanced over and saw Xavier walk in, carrying a lunchbox.
It was pink, with a Cartoon Cat pattern, creating a catastrophic visual contrast with the faded white shirt and his cool, restrained face.
"Honey, lunch's ready," Xavier smiled.
He walked past the thick tension in the room, straight to the desk, and set the lunchbox down.
He looked so casual, like he was walking around his own backyard.
David paused for a moment, then let out a mocking chuckle.
"Ms. Lane, who's this? Your new secretary? He's pretty easy on the eyes."
That "easy on the eyes" was tossed out in the most shameless, objectifying way, like he was checking out some pretty boy at a fancy lounge.
Xavier's hand paused as he lifted the lid.
He looked up at David, as if he were a pile of non-recyclable trash.
"Spouse," Xavier said, his voice flat.
Then he went back to arranging the honey garlic ribs on the plate.
David's face soured. "Spouse? Since when did you get married, Ms. Lane? And you married... a food delivery guy?"
He pointed at Xavier's clothes, which together probably cost less than 60 bucks.
"Sure, you're not exactly young anymore, but you don't have to be so desperate, do you?" David sneered.
The atmosphere in the office dropped to freezing in an instant.
Jessica rose from her chair, slow and purposeful.
She straightened her blazer and gave David a professional smile that sent chills down his spine.
"Mr. Warren," she said, her voice like ice. "You're toast."
Jessica was the queen of double standards.
She could call Xavier a wimp and complain about his lack of cash, but no one else was allowed to.
If anyone touched a single hair on his head, it was like trespassing on her turf, basically declaring war.