She Was Never Just the Billionaire’s Wife (Natasha and Chase) novel Chapter 58

Chapter 58 Back to Work

Natasha)

The assistant Mason hired for me is called Priya.

She’s twenty-six, gorgeous, and she’s placing a perfect flat white on my desk just as I arrive.

Which tells me Mason briefed her thoroughly and probably more than once.

It’s not a huge office.

Nothing like the corner suite I had at Warren Global with its floor-to-ceiling windows and the view of half the city.

This looks out over a courtyard, there’s a small water stain on the ceiling that someone has painted over, and

chair squeaks when I lean back.

tunreasonably.

Mason appears in the doorway at five past nine with the expression of a man trying to look casual about something he cares about very much.

“You’re here,” he says.

“You say that like you thought I might not show up.”

He shrugs in a way that tells me that’s exactly what he thought.

He comes in, drops a folder on the desk, and pulls up a chair like it’s his office too, which in fairness it is.

He owns the building.

“Priya will get you set up on the system this morning. Gloria’s in meetings until noon, she said to tell expects lunch and a full debrief.”

you

she

He taps the folder.

“That’s the latest on the Bauer deal. Jeffrey’s still signing with Warren Global, but we’re acting as intermediaries. He insists you’re the only one he trusts with the figures.”

“I’ll look at it today,” I promise.

He nods and doesn’t move.

“Mason.”

“Right.” He stands. “I’ll let you settle in.”

He’s at the door before I call after him.

“Thank you. For the job. For the office. For teaching Priya how to make the coffee just the way I like it.”

He turns around and grins. “I bribed her with a raise.”

By the third hour, something had loosened in my chest that I didn’t fully realize was clenched.

This is what I’d missed. The work itself.

The clean logic of numbers that don’t lie, problems that have solutions if you’re patient enough.

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The satisfaction of a well-structured argument laid out on paper.

After my pregnancy and subsequent marriage to Chase, then dealing with Eleanor’s daily accusations that I’m a gold digger, I lost my confidence.

To a degree where I could barely remember what it felt like to trust my own instincts.

Sitting here in this small office with the squeaky chair, it’s all coming back.

For the first time in months, nobody is watching me like I might break, steal silverware, or embarrass the family by existing.

It turns out competence is a much more comfortable outfit than gratitude.

I’d nearly forgotten how good it feels to be trusted with something that matters.

Priya shows me the filing system, introduces me to two colleagues, and brings a second coffee without being asked.

I decide she’s marvelous.

Gloria arrives back at twelve-thirty with a bag of food and the energy of a woman who’s won her morning.

She pulls out containers.

“How’s the chair?”

“Terrible.”

“I told Mason to order you a new one. He should have had it sorted out by now.”

“Gloria.”

“I know. He’ll order it.” She passes me a container.

“So. How does it feel?”

I think about it honestly.

“Like remembering a language I was afraid I’d forgotten.”

She gives me a look that says she knew it would.

She doesn’t say it out loud, which I appreciate.

The discrepancy turns up at half past three.

I’m working through the Bauer transition files, double-checking the timeline against the original proposal, when

I catch a number on page eleven that conflicts with the one on page thirty-four.

I stop.

I go back to the original Warren Global proposal, and find the figure where it first appeared.

Someone’s changed it.

Not dramatically.

Not in a way that would trigger an audit flag or force an immediate conversation.

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