RYAN KENNEDY
The morning passed in a blur of meetings, reports, and terse phone calls. My office hummed with quiet efficiency, a reflection of the machine I'd built to maintain control. But my focus was fractured. Mia Trump was still here, her presence eating away at the edges of my concentration.
She was a constant reminder of Victor Trump, a man whose sins had scarred me in ways that even time couldn't heal. And yet, I couldn't bring myself to cast her out. She was the last thread tying me to a chapter of my life I couldn't close.
The buzz of the intercom interrupted my thoughts.
"Mr. Kennedy," Mia's voice came through, soft and uncertain. "Richard is here to see you."
I didn't respond immediately, letting her sit in the discomfort of silence before pressing the button. "Send him in."
The double doors to my office swung open a moment later, and Richard Beck strode in like he owned the place. Tall, broad-shouldered, and effortlessly charismatic, Richard was everything I wasn't. Where I exuded cold calculation, he radiated easy charm. Where my presence unsettled, his disarmed.
But beneath his polished exterior was a man as ruthless as I was—my best friend, confidant, and the only person I trusted to have my back.
"Ryan," he greeted, his deep voice carrying a casual authority. "Still brooding by the window, I see."
I turned to face him, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. "Someone has to keep the city in line."
Richard chuckled, but his attention drifted almost immediately. His gaze landed on the desk near the door where Mia sat, typing furiously on her laptop.
"And who is this?" he asked, his tone shifting into something softer, more intrigued.
"She's no one," I said dismissively, though the tightening in my chest betrayed the lie.
Richard didn't move, his eyes still fixed on Mia. Her posture stiffened under his scrutiny, but she didn't look up.
"No one?" he repeated, his lips curving into a slow smile. "She doesn't look like no one. Care to introduce us?"
I sighed, knowing Richard wouldn't drop it. "Mia Trump, my new secretary."
The name caught his attention. He turned back to me, his brows lifting in surprise. "Trump? As in the same Trump"
"The very same."
Richard let out a low whistle, his expression morphing into something between amusement and disbelief. "You hired her?"
"Why not?" I leaned against my desk, crossing my arms. "She needed a job. I needed a secretary."
Richard shook his head, laughing under his breath. "That's not like you, Ryan. You don't just let people like her into your orbit. What's the angle?"
I didn't answer, and Richard took that as permission to push further. He crossed the room, lowering his voice as he stood in front of me.
"Seriously, man. After what her father did, why the hell is she here? This isn't just some charitable act. What's the play?"
"It's my business," I said coldly, meeting his gaze.
Richard studied me for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. Then, his expression shifted, a sly grin spreading across his face.
"You don't trust her," he said, his tone dripping with understanding. "You're keeping her close because you think she knows something. Or maybe you just want to make her pay."
I didn't confirm or deny it, but the way Richard's smile widened told me he'd guessed enough.
"She's pretty, though," he said, glancing back at Mia. "A little young, maybe, but she's got that quiet, determined thing going for her."
My jaw tightened. "Don't."
"What?" he said innocently, raising his hands. "I'm just saying if you don't want her…"
"Not a chance, Richard."
He arched a brow, acting surprised. "What? You don't trust me with her? Come on, Ryan. You can't keep her all to yourself. A girl like that deserves someone who can appreciate her and take care of her."
"She's not a toy," I snapped, my voice edgy than I intended.
Mia suddenly looks away from her laptop and focuses on my glass doors possibly feeling unsettled, her eyes flickering before quickly returning to her work.
Richard caught the exchange and smirked. "Interesting."
"Leave it," I warned.
But Richard wasn't the type to back down. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You're not attached to her, are you? Because that would be... unexpected."
I stepped away from him, running a hand through my hair in frustration. "You're reading too much into this. She's here because I want her here. That's all."
Richard chuckled, clearly unconvinced. "Whatever you say, boss."
He turned and made his way toward the desk where Mia sat, his confident stride drawing her attention once more.
"Miss Trump," he said smoothly, extending a hand. "Richard Beck. I work with Ryan."
Mia hesitated, glancing at me for guidance. I gave her a curt nod, and she reluctantly took his hand.
"Nice to meet you," she said softly, her voice steady despite the obvious tension in the room.
"The pleasure's mine," Richard replied, his tone warm but laced with something that made my stomach churn.
I watched as he studied her, his sharp eyes taking in every detail—the delicate curve of her neck, the determined set of her jaw, the way her hands trembled slightly before she pulled them into her lap.
"Tell me, Mia," he said, leaning casually against her desk. "How are you finding your new job?"
"It's fine," she said, her tone polite but distant. "Mr. Kennedy has been very clear about his expectations."
Richard laughed. "I'm sure he has. He's not exactly known for being lenient."
She offered a small, hesitant smile, but her eyes darted back to her laptop, clearly hoping he would leave her alone.
"Don't let him scare you," Richard said, his voice dropping into something softer, almost intimate. "He's all bark, no bite."
"Richard," I said sharply, my tone leaving no room for argument.
He straightened, shooting me an amused glance. "Relax, Ryan. I'm just being friendly."
"Be friendly somewhere else."
Richard smirked but pushed off the desk, returning to my side.
"She's got spunk," he said quietly, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "I like her."
"She's off-limits," I said, my tone final.
Richard raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "You are attached to her."
Before I could respond, the phone on my desk buzzed. I walked back to my office and picked it up, grateful for the distraction.
"Speak," I said curtly.
The voice on the other end was tense, delivering news that made my stomach drop.
"When?" I demanded, my grip tightening on the receiver.
"Understood," I said after a moment, slamming the phone down.
Richard's expression turned serious. "What is it?"
"Trump's secrets," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "They're starting to surface."
Richard's jaw tightened, his easygoing demeanour vanishing. "What do you need me to do?"
"Stay close," I said, my mind racing. "This isn't over."
I glanced at Mia, who was back to typing, completely unaware of the storm brewing around her.
"She's still the key," I muttered, more to myself than to Richard.
Richard crossed his arms, studying me carefully. "Then you'd better figure out what you're going to do with her. Sooner rather than later."
I nodded, my mind already turning over possibilities.
Because if Victor Trump's secrets were coming to light, it meant one thing: Mia wasn't just a reminder of the past. She was a weapon.
And I intended to use her.