The Devil You Know

"Mr. Vance really has his hands full right now," Gavin explained over the line. "He just finalized a huge acquisition, and the new firm's books are in total disarray."

Cleo said nothing. She was all too familiar with Dominic's relentless schedule. Across three years of marriage, his work had swallowed him whole, making him miss every wedding anniversary, her birthdays, and every single holiday. She had passed each of those days by herself in an empty house.

"I see," Cleo said with a quiet sigh. "Would you mind giving me a call once he gets back?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Vance. There's no need to be so polite with me," Gavin replied warmly.

Cleo ended the call and lowered her phone, gazing blankly at the crowd moving in and out of the courthouse. The newly divorced pairs walking past acted as if they had never met, recoiling from one another like repulsive pests they couldn't get away from fast enough.

After sitting there for a bit, she unlocked her screen and started browsing local job openings. Getting a steady income came first, and her digital resume was already prepared.

Back at the university, she had studied vocal music, yet the ordeal involving Jolene had left her unable to sing a single note. That part of her past was dead and buried, taking the value of her college degree right along with it.

Letting out a soft breath, she scrolled past listing after listing before pausing on a mid-level company hiring a director's assistant. The ad didn't ask for any specialized background, specifying only height, weight, and physical appearance.

Cleo submitted her application, and barely three minutes passed before her phone rang with an invitation to interview that very afternoon. Since she had zero prior work experience, she didn't know how corporate hiring usually went and briefly wondered if the setup was a scam.

Even so, she made the trip over. The hiring manager looked her up and down once, gave a quick nod, and asked, "How soon can you start?"

Cleo blinked in surprise. "Aren't you going to ask about my background or work experience?"

"With a music degree, what sort of corporate skills would you even have?" The manager gave a light shrug. "Your main duty is accompanying the director to social functions. It pays well, though it's a temporary gig that banks entirely on youth and a pretty face. Are you in?"

"I'll take it," Cleo said. Right away, a staff member walked her through a brief orientation, and when she was finally brought in to meet the director, she found herself looking at a familiar face.

She had crossed paths with this man three years back, shortly after marrying Dominic. At the time, he held a senior management post at Vance Group and had no clue about her identity.

During an annual corporate banquet, he had taken her for a hired waitress and tried to pin her down for a kiss. Dominic had witnessed the entire scene. Shortly afterward, rumors circulated that the executive had crossed someone at the top and been shown the door.

His name was Silas Cross, thirty-nine years old, now sitting as a director at the very firm Cleo had just joined.

His eyes moved from her resume on his monitor up to her face. "I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Aren't you Dominic's wife? Never thought I'd see you applying for work under my roof. What happened, did Dominic finally toss you aside?"

Saying that, he eased his laptop shut, fixing her with a heavy stare as a grin spread across his mouth. "Word is he's barely set foot at home over the last three years. How could a man bear leaving someone like you all by yourself?"

Cleo possessed a striking kind of beauty—understated yet captivating enough to hold anyone's attention the second she walked into a room. Dressed in nothing more than plain jeans and a white shirt, she still carried an effortless, quiet allure.

"Mr. Cross," Cleo said evenly, making up her mind right then that if Silas tried anything out of line, she would turn around and quit on the spot.

Silas let out a dry scoff, his eyes sweeping over her frame. "The pay is six thousand a month. Your job is prepping paperwork and coming along to client dinners. Can you drive, by the way?"

"Yes," Cleo answered.

"Perfect. Having Mrs. Vance chauffeur me around—talk about hitting the jackpot," Silas remarked with heavy sarcasm.

"Dominic and I are divorced."

Silas's eyes narrowed slightly before a slow, calculating smile crept onto his face. "Well, that clears things up. No other reason a stunner like you would be on the market. You're on the clock starting today. Come to a client dinner with me tonight, and I'll front you half your first month's pay right now. How does that sound?"

Cleo had no idea how Silas had picked up on her desperate need for cash, yet he had hit the mark. Dropping her eyes, she said, "Alright."

An HR representative wrapped up her remaining paperwork in short order and led her out to a desk.

Cleo eased herself into the chair. A dull fever was creeping up on her, making her skin burn hotter by the minute.

Just before the workday ended, Silas summoned her back inside, pitched his car keys across the desk, and instructed, "Starting today, you're acting as my chauffeur and part-time assistant. Come on. I'll text you the itinerary."

"Understood," Cleo said, catching the keys in her palm. She located his vehicle down in the underground garage, pulled the door open for him to get in, and then slipped behind the steering wheel.

During the drive, Silas dialed an acquaintance and boasted loudly, "Take a wild guess who I just brought on as my new assistant. You remember Dominic Vance, right?"

There wasn't a soul in Veridian who didn't know Dominic's name. Long before the Vance family tracked him down, he had already made a name for himself from scratch—talked about everywhere for his striking looks and his climb out of poverty. Once his real birthright came to light, his notoriety only multiplied.

Over the past few years, Dominic had stepped back from public view, pouring all his energy into corporate expansion and shunning the press. Little by little, he vanished from the tabloids. Yet among Veridian's upper crust, the mere mention of his name still commanded instant respect.

Even though Silas now operated in a far lower bracket of the business world, his former stint as a Vance Group executive meant he still held on to a few old contacts from that circle.

"That's right, his wife is driving my car right now," Silas chuckled into the receiver. "Remember how untouchable he used to act around us?"

Cleo kept her gaze fixed on the traffic ahead, completely unbothered by his petty gloating. Next to the sharp, freezing contempt she had lived through inside Dominic's social circle, Silas's jabs barely registered. She had grown armor against this sort of thing a long time ago.

Before long, she guided the car up to the entrance of a high-end hotel. Bringing it to a smooth halt, Cleo got out and pulled the passenger door open for Silas.

Keeping his end of the bargain, Silas wired three thousand straight to her bank account.

Cleo offered a polite smile and handled her duties without complaint, walking ahead to hit the call button at the elevator bank. Yet the moment the metal doors parted, her breath hitched in her throat—standing right inside the cab were Dominic and Gavin.

Surprise flickered across Gavin's face. He shot a quick look toward Dominic, then wisely kept his mouth shut.

Cleo didn't make a single move to greet Dominic, whereas Silas stepped right up to the plate. "Mr. Vance," he said, flashing a smooth, practiced smile. "Small world running into you here."

Met with dead silence, Silas didn't let his smile slip an inch. He walked right into the cab and looked back over his shoulder at Cleo. "Ms. Lowell," he prompted, "are you getting on, or are you waiting for a formal invitation?"

At his words, Cleo forced her feet forward, stepping inside and reaching out to press the button for the fifth floor.

The hotel's fifth level catered to pricey corporate banquets, though it still fell far short of the seventh floor—an exclusive tier nearly impossible to reserve without serious clout. Naturally, the lit button showed Dominic was bound for the seventh.

The cab began its steady ascent. Dominic's silent presence seemed to drain every bit of oxygen from the enclosed space. Despite the cab being plenty roomy for four people, the air felt suffocatingly thin.

At last, a soft chime announced the fifth floor. Right as Cleo shifted her weight to trail Silas out into the corridor, Dominic's cold voice broke the quiet. "Gavin."

Gavin straightened his spine at once, waiting for an order.

Yet Dominic didn't add another word.

Cleo paused for a fraction of a second before walking out into the hall. Almost immediately, the doors slid shut behind her back.

Left inside the rising cab, Gavin could feel the heavy chill pressing down on him. He swallowed hard against a dry throat. "I'll have someone look into this immediately."

He needed answers as to why Cleo had shown up here alongside Silas—the very man who had once tried to force himself on her. Back when it happened, Dominic had gone cold with fury and personally had Silas thrown out of the corporation.

The cab opened onto the seventh floor. Stepping out into the hallway, Dominic said flatly, "Save your time. If she's that eager to throw herself into the mud, let her."

*Besides, climbing into bed with some random man for a payout is hardly new territory for her,* he thought coldly.

Gavin kept his head down and didn't dare utter a syllable, falling into step behind his boss.

*****

Down on the fifth floor, Silas swung open the door to a private banquet room and called out to the table, "Apologies for the wait, gentlemen. Ran into an old face in the elevator and got held up for a minute."

The men seated around the table were his current business associates—a loud, casually dressed crowd who ran small-time companies.

One of the men whistled and joked, "Silas, where on earth did you dig up an assistant with looks like that? She belongs on a movie screen."

Silas puffed his chest out, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "Please, her sights are set way higher than showbiz."

The table of middle-aged men immediately launched into a string of off-color jokes, their greedy eyes dragging up and down Cleo's figure.

Cleo kept her lashes lowered, acting as if she didn't hear or see a thing.

Without warning, Silas gave her shoulder a push toward one of the men seated nearby. "Go top off Caleb's glass. The man hasn't blinked once since you walked through that door."