Chapter 5: Jealousy in a Three-Piece Suit

The photo hit the Sinclair Foundation newsletter by Monday morning.

Noah didn’t see it until his coworker Maya slid her tablet across his desk with wide eyes. “Since when does Mr. Sinclair take personal photos??”

There they were. Kairo in black tuxedo, perfect and cold. And Noah beside him, tie crooked, eyes wide, caught mid-breath. Shoulder to shoulder. Kairo’s hand still faintly visible on Noah’s wrist.

The caption read: Mr. Sinclair with his new executive assistant, Noah Reed. The future of Sinclair Foundation.

Noah’s stomach dropped. “I’m not— I’m just his secretary—”

“With his hand on you?” Maya wiggled her eyebrows. “Girl, the whole office is talking.”

Noah buried his face in his hands. He hadn’t told his mom about the gala. He hadn’t told anyone. And now his face was in every board member’s inbox.

The worst part? Kairo hadn’t said a word about it. All morning he was in meetings, voice clipped, door closed. Like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t whispered “Smile for me” into Noah’s ear.

By 2 PM, Noah was a mess. He messed up two coffee orders. He typed “Kairo” instead of “Q4” in a report. He was spiraling.

Then the door opened.

“Reed. Conference Room B. Now.”

Kairo didn’t wait for an answer. He just left.

Noah grabbed his notebook and followed. Conference Room B was empty except for Kairo and a man Noah didn’t recognize. Tall. Expensive suit. Smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Kairo, finally,” the man said. He looked Noah up and down. Slow. Appraising. “This the famous secretary? The one in the photo?”

Noah froze. Kairo’s jaw tightened.

“This is Noah Reed, my secretary,” Kairo said. Flat. Final. “Mr. Dorian, CEO of Vance Holdings. We have 15 minutes.”

Dorian laughed. “Right. The meeting. But first—” He stepped closer to Noah. Too close. Held out his hand. “Dorian Vance. I read about you. ‘The only one who didn’t quit.’ Impressive. Tell me, Noah, how do you keep a man like Kairo Sinclair happy?”

Noah’s skin crawled. He shook the hand quickly. “I just do my job, sir.”

“Just your job?” Dorian’s thumb brushed over Noah’s knuckles. Lingering. “I’m sure you do more than that. Kairo’s always been... demanding.”

The room temperature dropped 10 degrees.

Kairo moved. Fast. He stepped between them, breaking Dorian’s hold on Noah’s hand. Didn’t touch Dorian. Didn’t raise his voice. But his whole body went rigid. Dangerous.

“Dorian,” Kairo said. Low. Deadly quiet. “If you touch him again, I’ll pull Sinclair Foundation out of the merger. Today.”

Dorian blinked. “It was just a handshake—”

“It won’t be next time.” Kairo’s eyes were ice. “My secretary is not part of this deal. He’s not available for your ‘appraisal.’ He’s mine.”

The word hit Noah like a slap. Mine.

Not “employee.” Not “assistant.” Mine.

Noah couldn’t breathe. Dorian looked between them, finally catching the warning. He laughed nervously and backed off. “Right. Of course. Professional boundaries. Let’s talk Q3 projections.”

The meeting was 15 minutes of hell. Noah took notes with shaking hands, pretending not to notice how Kairo’s gaze kept flicking to him. Checking. Guarding. Like Dorian was a threat.

When Dorian left, the door barely closed before Kairo turned on Noah.

“Are you okay?” The question came out sharp. Like it hurt him to ask.

Noah nodded, throat dry. “I’m fine, sir. He was just—”

“He was being inappropriate,” Kairo cut him off. He paced to the window, hands in pockets. Tension rolling off him in waves. “I should’ve canceled the meeting. I should’ve known he’d—”

“Sir, you didn’t know,” Noah said quietly. He stood up too. “You stopped him. Thank you.”

Kairo turned. Looked at him like Noah was speaking another language. “Don’t thank me for doing the bare minimum.”

“You did more than that,” Noah whispered. “You said I’m yours. In front of him. In front of everyone.”

Silence.

Kairo’s mask cracked. Just a little. His shoulders dropped. He looked tired. Not CEO-tired. Human-tired.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Kairo admitted. Voice rough. “It wasn’t professional. It wasn’t calculated. I just... saw him look at you like that, and I—” He stopped. Swallowed. “I don’t like sharing things that matter.”

Noah’s heart hammered. “Sir, I’m not a thing.”

“No,” Kairo agreed immediately. Too fast. “You’re not. You’re a person. A stubborn, overworking, impossible person who makes terrible coffee but stays late anyway.” He took a step closer. Then another. “And I don’t share you, Noah. Not with Dorian. Not with the board. Not with anyone.”

Noah’s back hit the conference table. Kairo was close now. Not touching. But close enough that Noah could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes.

“Sir,” Noah breathed. “What are you saying?”

Kairo stared at his mouth for half a second too long. Then he stepped back, like he’d been burned. Like he remembered who he was.

“I’m saying,” Kairo said, voice back to CEO-cold, “that if anyone touches you again, they’ll answer to me. Understood?”

Noah nodded, dazed. “Understood, sir.”

Kairo walked to the door. Paused. Didn’t look back.

“And Noah? From now on, you don’t attend meetings with Dorian. Or any client I don’t trust. That’s an order.”

The door clicked shut.

Noah stood there for a full minute, legs shaking. Kairo Sinclair, the most ruthless man in the building, just declared war over a handshake.

He pressed his hand to his chest, right where Kairo had touched him at the gala. His pulse was racing.

Jealousy looked good on Kairo. Too good.

And Noah was starting to think he didn’t hate being claimed.