Chapter 14

Yasmin watched Caleb warily, maintaining a firm stance across the office desk. “Mr. Grant, if you have any questions, I’ll do my best to answer them. If I can’t, I’ll relay them to my supervisor. If there’s nothing else, I’ll leave these documents and be going.” She had no desire to linger. Caleb chuckled, shaking his head. “Yasmin, you still don’t understand the problem.” Her feet were already angled toward the door, but his words halted her. She turned back. “What?” she asked. A faint smile played on Caleb’s lips as he regarded her, but he remained silent, instead picking up his coffee cup. He intended a sip, but found it empty. His gaze returned to her, his brow lifting slightly. Yasmin understood his implication but held her ground. “Mr. Grant, I’m not your secretary; making coffee isn't part of my job.” “Ms. Whitmore, you’re not my subordinate. I’m under no obligation to guide you in your work.” Stunned into silence, Yasmin thought him unbelievable! Reason urged her immediate departure; Caleb wasn't worth the effort. Yet, a powerful curiosity held her captive. What was the problem? Was it her, or the document? After a brief struggle, she begrudgingly stomped to the pantry to make coffee. Knowing Caleb preferred black coffee, Yasmin deliberately brewed a triple-sweetened latte and presented it. Caleb saw the latte and said nothing. He took a sip, finding it overwhelmingly sweet—downright offensive. Only his composure prevented him from spitting it out. “My apologies, Mr. Grant. I’m not used to serving people, so I don’t know how to do these things,” Yasmin said sweetly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Caleb didn't bother arguing. A low chuckle escaped him. “That’s right. It’s always been me serving you.” Yasmin’s smirk froze. His definition of "serve" seemed… impure. Their relationship didn't justify such a remark. “Mr. Grant,” she said sweetly, redirecting the conversation. “What exactly is the problem?” “Why haven’t you been eating at the cafeteria these past few days?” he asked seriously. “What does my eating habits have to do with my work?” Yasmin’s heart skipped a beat. Was Caleb concerned, or merely annoyed? “Ms. Whitmore, if people get the impression that Grant Group mistreats its contractors, it could affect our stock price.” Yasmin had battled stomach ulcers; it had taken years to recover. She wouldn’t let a few days of intense work undo that progress. Lowering her eyes, she replied, “I’ll make sure to eat at the cafeteria. So, what’s the problem, Mr. Grant?” Caleb clasped his hands. “Minnie, the corporate world isn’t like university. Every action is tied to your position.” Suppressing her irritation, she attempted to analyze the situation. “I’m an employee of a law firm; my job is to deliver legal documents to your legal department. What’s the pro—” She stopped abruptly. There was a problem. As an attorney from the contracting firm, she should have submitted the documents directly to Grant Group’s legal department; that was the proper chain of command. As CEO, Caleb was above such matters; someone of her rank shouldn't be dealing with him directly. “But your legal director told me to bring this to you,” she said, her voice softening. “If he told you to strip naked and wait in my bed, would you do that too?” “Caleb, you—” He raised an eyebrow, acknowledging her concession. He had a point; the legal director should have used a subordinate. Even if external legal counsel was needed, it should have been someone senior, like Edward Sullivan, or a firm partner. Caleb’s eyes gleamed with admiration. Yasmin was quick-witted; a little nudge and she solved it herself. Too bad she still gave others the benefit of the doubt. “Then, why did Harris deliberately send me here?” Yasmin grumbled, frustration lacing her voice. Caleb laughed. “Why do you think he did it on purpose?” Because she was his wife. Yasmin clenched her fist. “Harris is unprofessional and manipulative. He has blatantly overstepped. His bonus should be deducted!” Caleb instinctively reached for his coffee, then retracted his hand. “Alright.” She stared suspiciously. Why was he suddenly on her side? Caleb picked up the phone and called Harris in. A moment later, Harris entered, utterly bewildered. Before he could assess the situation, Caleb stated, “Harris, your quarterly bonus is being deducted.” Startled, Harris turned to Yasmin, wondering what he’d done. Yasmin was satisfied. “Mr. Grant, I’ll leave the documents here and return to work.” Harris, swallowing his grievances, even smiled as he escorted Yasmin out. Returning, he quietly replaced the super-sweet latte with a freshly brewed Americano. “Your year-end bonus will be doubled,” Caleb remarked casually, reviewing the documents. Harris was stunned, then understanding dawned. “Thank you, Mr. Grant!” Sure, an employee delivering documents to the CEO violated policy. But the CEO’s wife delivering them? Where was the problem? There wasn't one! And Caleb seemed pleased. Harris was Caleb’s confidant, a university friend from abroad; they’d known each other for years. Still, he couldn’t fathom Caleb’s attitude toward Yasmin. It was improbable he liked her; everyone knew he didn’t. Yet, saying he disliked her didn't ring true; she enjoyed a far better lifestyle than other wealthy wives, possessing unparalleled privilege. Caleb’s bonus deduction was merely a gesture to appease her…

“So, how does it feel working at your husband’s company?” Brenda, in her new Ferrari, was ready for gossip. She was picking Yasmin up. Yasmin tossed her bag in the back seat and scoffed. “I’m not working for his company. He’s my client. I’m a contractor.” “Whatever you do, don’t start playing the role of his secretary.” Brenda teased, hitting the gas. “Why?” “Because CEOs love hitting on their sexy secretaries,” Brenda said, winking. Yasmin finally understood. Caleb would never do that to me, she thought. He’d likely prefer someone else as his “sexy secretary.” All she wanted was a clean, drama-free divorce. Brenda waggled a finger. “Men are all the same.” “Oh?” Yasmin’s eyes gleamed mischievously. “Have you tested this on your dear Mr. Howard?”