Chapter 45: Not My Guest
Jake who had decided to review the quarterly forecasts after Raymond left raised his head when he heard footsteps approaching.
The door opened softly, and he smiled. He glanced up, expecting Bella. Perhaps she was there to give him a report, or a small reminder about something.
Although he could see it wasn’t Bella, nothing would’ve prepared him for the person in front of him. Helena.
His brows shot up, the pen in his hand halting mid-stroke. She stepped inside with the quiet poise of someone who already belonged there, her heels whispering against the carpet as though she had every right to walk into the CEO’s office unannounced.
"Helena?" Jake’s voice carried a rare slip of disbelief. "What are you doing here?"
Was it his mom? It had to be. No matter how audacious Helena was, she couldn’t have come here on her own. Especially since they weren’t that close.
How could his mom have given someone like Helena access to his work place? And how could she have so shamelessly agreed to come?
If he had even managed to develop any likeness toward her, then this stunt had just eliminated it.
Helena looked at him and her lips curved into a smile, smooth and deliberate. "Is that how you welcome your guest?" she said in a sultry tone, irtitating Jake the more.
Jake leaned back slowly, his chair creaking as he folded his arms across his chest. He studied her the way one would study a problem with too many hidden variables and he shook his head.
"You’re not my guest. I didn’t invite you," he said, his gazing returning to the folder in front of him.
She tilted her head, amusement flickering in her eyes. "True. But now that I’m here, won’t you at least welcome me?" she asked softly.
"I could," Jake said dryly. "But then you might get the wrong impression, and I don’t want that."
Her brow arched, her tone soft with challenge. "Oh? And what impression would that be?" she asked, as though clueless.
"The impression that whatever my mother is planning is working," he said, deciding to humor her.
Helena’s smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew more assured, as if his resistance was merely part of a game she had expected.
"So you know this is her doing," she said. "Tell me then, Jake. Don’t you want it to work? I can assure you that I do," she said,winking at him.
Jake’s response was immediate, his voice steady with iron. "No. I don’t. I don’t like you in that way, Helena. Whatever my mother is scheming, it won’t change that. You better stop letting her giving you false hope."
Silence stretched between them. Helena’s expression softened but not in defeat. In something else. Something unreadable.
Her lashes lowered briefly, then she met his gaze again with a quiet persistence. "Are you sure about that?"
Jake’s jaw tightened, his patience thinning. "I know my heart better than anyone else."
She chuckled softly, her laughter like silk wrapping around barbed wire. "Don’t be in such a rush to discard me, Jake. Feelings have a way of shifting. People change. Circumstances change, and I’m not that unlikeable."
He narrowed his eyes. "I never said you were. I just don’t change when it comes to matters like this."
Helena stepped closer, her perfume drifting into the space between them, subtle but distracting. She stopped just short of his desk, her voice dipping lower, more intimate though her words were bold. "I like you. And I’ll make sure you accept me."
Jake sat straighter, his arms unfolding, his palms pressing against the edge of the desk. His gaze was sharp, cutting through the confidence she wore like a crown. "Isn’t that a little too bold for a lady to say?"
Her smile widened, slow and unshaken. "Not bold," she corrected. "Just going for what I like.
Jake’s silence lingered, heavy and unreadable. He knew Helena — not as intimately as his mother hoped, but enough to recognize the kind of persistence that didn’t vanish overnight. She was deliberate, patient, calculating. A chess player willing to spend as long as it took to corner her opponent.
He hated to admit it, but there was a part of him that respected that — even as he rejected her.
"You’re wasting your time," he said finally, his tone low but resolute.
Helena tilted her head again, as if she found his conviction charming rather than final. "Maybe. Or maybe I’m just investing my time wisely. You’ll see."
For a moment, their eyes locked, neither willing to yield. Then, with a graceful turn, she broke the stare and walked toward the door, her movements fluid and unhurried. At the threshold, she paused, her hand brushing lightly against the handle.
She glanced back over her shoulder, her smile deliberate, her voice carrying the faintest lilt of challenge. "Think about it, Jake."
And then she was gone.
The soft click of the door echoed in the quiet office, louder than it had any right to.
Jake sat motionless after Helena left, her perfume lingering faintly in the air, as though she’d left a piece of herself behind just to remind him she’d been there.
He rubbed his temple with one hand, the other still holding the pen he hadn’t written a thing with in the last five minutes.
Work was impossible. Her words echoed too clearly.
I like you. And I’ll make sure you accept me.
Jake let out a sharp exhale and pushed back his chair, his hand brushing over his jaw.
His mother’s schemes were advancing faster than he had anticipated. Helena wasn’t just here for a visit. She was a message, a reminder that his mother had no intention of backing down.
He couldn’t sit here surrounded by walls that seemed to hum with his mother’s schemes. He needed air. Space and more than anything, he needed to clarify things.
Deciding that, Jake grabbed his suit jacket from the back of his chair and shrugged it on with sharp, precise movements.
When he opened the door, Bella looked up from her desk, her pen pausing mid-stroke. Her brows knit slightly when she saw him.
She’d been wondering what they’d talked about for ages and if they were pretty close since Helena had wasted some time inside and had stepped out with a smile.
But seeing his face now, she doubted what she’d seen.
Jake looked at her and didn’t need anyone to tell him she’d seen it; the tightness in his jaw, the rigid set of his shoulders, the tension straining through his frame and she was probably wondering what was going on.