Michael's POV
Sitting at the head of the conference table, I could feel the weight of everyone's attention aimed my way, but it barely registered. I was here in body, but my mind was far from the discussion around me. PowerPoint slides flashed on the screen in front of me, and the senior analysts were taking turns highlighting trends, statistics, and projections. I knew the stakes and the numbers inside out, but today none of it could hold my attention. Instead, my thoughts had drifted back to a certain encounter.
June Skylar. I remembered her from the bakery sign incident, but the memory of that first meeting—seeing her standing outside her mother's bakery, a fire in her eyes as we discussed something as trivial as a broken sign—had imprinted itself somewhere in my mind.
She wasn't the type to back down or take things at face value. She had opinions, confidence, and a fierce independence that intrigued me a little too much.
I remembered having a fierce opinion about the kind of person I was; it was amusing at best. She had audacity, too. I mean, the woman entered my private elevator, and her face turned sour when she saw me. No one had dared express their disdain for me so bluntly.
I let out a low chuckle, more to myself than anything, but it echoed in the silent room. It took me a second to realize everything had gone quiet; you could hear a pin drop. I glanced up to find all eyes on me, the room bathed in a strange silence. My employees had confusion, mixed with a little unease, written all over their faces. I must've looked like a madman, laughing in the middle of a budget presentation.
What was even up with me today?
I cleared my throat, straightening. "Carry on," I said with a dismissive wave, barely giving anyone time to react before I rose from my seat. "Excuse me," I added before heading out of the room, leaving them in silence. I was positive that they'd be able to manage one meeting without me.
The moment I was out of the conference room and stepped into the hallway, I reached for my phone and dialed my assistant. I wasn't even sure why, but I felt this itch to know more about her and what would bring her to my company.
"June Skylar," I said the moment she picked up. "Find out why she was here earlier and who she spoke to."
There was a brief shuffle of papers and the tap of keyboards on the other end. "She was here to meet with Mr. Don, sir. They were discussing security arrangements for her."
I mulled over that, silent for a moment as I digested the information. Security arrangements. I didn't like the implications. Sure, people requested protection from us all the time—it was what we did, after all—but the idea of June needing that level of protection gnawed at me. The woman looked like one who would burn her own hair rather than be subjected to 24-hour surveillance by a bodyguard.
"Thank you," I said and ended the call, sliding my phone back into my pocket as I strode down the hall to Don's office. If he was handling her case, he would know the details. And if June Skylar was under our protection, I simply needed to know why.
Reaching Don's office, I knocked lightly on the door before stepping inside. The room smelled of coffee and aged leather, a testament to the years Don and I had spent building this company. His presence commanded respect, but the glint in his eye as he looked up and saw me made it clear he wasn't surprised to see me.
"Michael," he greeted, his voice carrying a note of amusement. "Didn't expect you to swing by so soon."
I crossed my arms, leaning against the edge of the doorframe. "I hear you've been helping out a certain Ms. Skylar. Care to fill me in on why she's here?"
Don looked at me for a moment, as if weighing something, and then he nodded, leaning back in his chair. "June Skylar came in because she's been dealing with a rather unique situation," he began, his tone shifting to something more serious. "She's on the jury that recently sentenced Aiden Graham. He's now serving life in prison, but rumor has it his connections aren't exactly severed."
I felt my jaw clench. Graham. I knew the name all too well—his crimes, his network. He was a swine who had built his reputation on fear and manipulation, and he certainly didn't take losses lightly. I could see why June would be worried, but I had questions.
"And she's come to us for protection?" I asked, a hint of skepticism slipping into my tone. "June didn't exactly strike me as someone who'd… ask for help."
Don raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk forming. "No, she didn't ask, at least not directly. Her mother did. It took a lot of convincing to get her here. She's got a backbone, I'll give her that. But she's not foolish. She knows she's a target, whether she wants to admit it or not."
I found myself nodding, more to myself than to Don. Of course, she'd resist the idea. A part of me admired her stubbornness, though it was stupid.
"And you're assigning our team to her case?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even, though I felt a strange protectiveness bubbling up.
Don's gaze sharpened, and he nodded slowly. "It's still in the works. She'll have someone keeping an eye on her very soon; she has a lot of restrictions. Doesn't want anyone getting too close, doesn't want her routines interrupted."
I couldn't help but shake my head, amused. "Sounds like her."
Don tilted his head, studying me carefully. "Why so interested, Michael?"
I found myself at a loss for a moment. Why was I so interested? I barely knew her. She was just another case, wasn't she? But there was something about her, something that had stayed with me since that first meeting. Maybe it was the way she'd stood up to me over something as small as a school sign or the fierce independence that radiated off her. I wasn't used to people questioning me, and she had done it effortlessly.
"Just curious," I replied finally, shrugging as I met Don's gaze. "Wanted to know what we're dealing with."
Don let out a low chuckle, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it slide. "Well, you know now. She's in good hands."
I pushed off the doorframe, nodding. "Good," I said, more to myself than to him. But as I turned to leave, a thought nagged at me. June was fiercely independent, but she was smart, too. If she'd agreed to this, she must truly be worried, even if she didn't show it.
Back in my office, I found myself unable to shake the lingering thoughts of her. I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling as the pieces began to click into place. Her determination, her resilience—it wasn't just about self-preservation. It was about preserving the life she'd worked hard to build, a life she didn't want disrupted by fear or intimidation.
A soft knock at the door broke my thoughts, and my assistant poked her head in. "Everything alright, Mr. Stahom?"
I straightened, slipping back into the role I'd crafted over the years. "Yes. Thank you."
But as she left, I knew things weren't quite the same as before. I was going to do something drastic.